ard
behind, for they avoided our bank-vole like the plague, and dived up
one or other of the thousand and one side-tunnels, which opened on to
the main one, too quickly for the viper to catch them.

Then the poor, little, panting bank-vole found himself once more in the
open. His beady eyes shone like microscopic stars as lie paused in a
copper bar of setting sunlight and looked about for a refuge. It
seemed, by the piston-like throb of the whole body, that his heart
would burst and slay him out of hand before the hated snake could, if
he did not jolly soon find one.

Then a hedge caught his eye, and he climbed it, being a good acrobat in
his spare time. Beyond, however, bringing down upon himself the pecks
of several birds, he did no good, for it seemed that, whithersoever he
could go, the snake could follow, and--help!--the flat, terrible head
was not a yard from him now.

Worse was to follow, though. He dropped to earth again, already a
beaten beast; and, to complete the catastrophe, by a miracle he had
landed where there was not a mouse or mole or vole hole, or any other
cover, within reach. Only one big clod of earth there was, and round
that he flung himself, with that stub, scaly snout weaving at his very
tail, and rolled over and over and over--done, too utterly spent even
to squeak.

Then Fate lifted her finger, and things happened. All that had gone
before didn't count, it seemed.

The little bank-vole was dimly aware of rolling under a big, warm, live
shape. He was also aware of a funny little fussy grunt in his ear, and
that a set of very white and business-like teeth flashed for an instant
in the sun, as they chopped surprisedly at him going under them, and
missed. Thereafter the shape sat down, nearly stifling him; and in the
same instant the whole air seemed to fill with the sudden, long-drawn,
venomous, terrifying hiss of the viper close at hand. Evidently the
limbless death had come round the corner too quickly, and had all but
rammed the shape that grunted.

I can give you my word, though, that the vole was not happy one bit.
He appeared to be between the Devil and the deep sea. He had no
confidence in the deep sea, or any other thing that he could think of
in his world. Moreover, the deep sea, besides keeping all the air off,
was most horribly bristly, even on the belly. Wherefore that vole made
haste to quit station, so to speak. But in a second, it seemed, before
he could clear