e-boat. It's all the same, whatever he takes up; he gets tired of
it, and starts on something fresh.'

'Such a good fellow, too,' remarked the Otter reflectively: 'But no
stability--especially in a boat!'

From where they sat they could get a glimpse of the main stream across
the island that separated them; and just then a wager-boat flashed into
view, the rower--a short, stout figure--splashing badly and rolling a
good deal, but working his hardest. The Rat stood up and hailed him, but
Toad--for it was he--shook his head and settled sternly to his work.

'He'll be out of the boat in a minute if he rolls like that,' said the
Rat, sitting down again.

'Of course he will,' chuckled the Otter. 'Did I ever tell you that good
story about Toad and the lock-keeper? It happened this way. Toad....'

An errant May-fly swerved unsteadily athwart the current in the
intoxicated fashion affected by young bloods of May-flies seeing life. A
swirl of water and a 'cloop!' and the May-fly was visible no more.

Neither was the Otter.

The Mole looked down. The voice was still in his ears, but the turf
whereon he had sprawled was clearly vacant. Not an Otter to be seen, as
far as the distant horizon.

But again there was a streak of bubbles on the surface of the river.

The Rat hummed a tune, and the Mole recollected that animal-etiquette
forbade any sort of comment on the sudden disappearance of one's friends
at any moment, for any reason or no reason whatever.

'Well, well,' said the Rat, 'I suppose we ought to be moving. I wonder
which of us had better pack the luncheon-basket?' He did not speak as if
he was frightfully eager for the treat.

'O, please let me,' said the Mole. So, of course, the Rat let him.

Packing the basket was not quite such pleasant work as unpacking' the
basket. It never is. But the Mole was bent on enjoying everything, and
although just when he had got the basket packed and strapped up tightly
he saw a plate staring up at him from the grass, and when the job had
been done again the Rat pointed out a fork which anybody ought to
have seen, and last of all, behold! the mustard pot, which he had been
sitting on without knowing it--still, somehow, the thing got finished at
last, without much loss of temper.

The afternoon sun was getting low as the Rat sculled gently homewards in
a dreamy mood, murmuring poetry-things over to himself, and not paying
much attention to Mole. But the Mole was very full of lu