ent of the bird was borne down by the water, and
the vole caught it as it passed beneath the bank. But he showed no trace
of terror; the heron was not near enough to give him any real cause for
alarm. The rabbits stole down through the woods, the undergrowth
crackled slightly as they passed, and one old buck "drummed" a danger
signal. Instantly the vole dived again, for he interpreted the sound to
mean that a weasel was on the prowl; and, as he vanished, the first
notes of a blackbird's rattling cry came to his ears.

Brighteye stayed awhile in his burrow before climbing once more to the
upper entrance. Then cautiously he advanced through the passage, and
gained his lookout station. Not the slightest taint of a weasel was
noticeable on the bank; so, regaining confidence, he sat on his
haunches, brushed his long, bristly whiskers with his fore-feet, and
licked his russet body clean with his warm, red tongue. Then he dropped
once more into the pool, and swam across to a reed-bed on the further
margin. There he found several of his neighbours feeding on roots of
riverside plants. He, too, was hungry, so he bit off a juicy flag at the
spot marking the junction of the tender stalk with the tough, fibrous
stem; then, sitting upright, he took it in his fore-paws, and with his
incisor teeth--shaped perfectly like an adze for such a
purpose--stripped it of its outer covering, beginning at the severed
edge, and laying bare the white pith, on which he greedily fed.

While thus engaged, he, as usual, watched and listened. The spot was
dangerous for him because of its distance from the stream, and because
the water immediately beyond was so shallow that he could not, by
diving, readily escape from determined pursuit.

His meal was often interrupted for a few moments by some trifling
incident that caused alarm. A moorhen splattered out from the
willow-roots, and Brighteye crouched motionless, till he recognised that
the noise made by the clumsy bird was almost as familiar to him as the
rustle of the reeds in a breeze. The blue heron rose heavily from the
backwater, and winged his slow flight high above the trees. Here,
indeed, seemed reason for fear; but the great bird was not in the humour
for killing voles, and soon passed out of view. Now a kingfisher, then a
dipper, sped like an arrow past the near corner of the pool; and the
whiz of swift wings--unheard by all except little creatures living in
frequent danger, and listening wi