now stopping, now advancing
with a creeping, evil motion. It was the weasel. When he stole away from
the wood-pile, after escaping from the trap, he made up the field
towards the copse, but upon reflection he determined to abandon his lair
in the hollow elm, for he had so abused Bevis's good-nature that he
doubted whether Bevis might not attack him even there despite the
squirrel. He did not know exactly where to go, knowing that every
creature was in secret his enemy, and in his wounded state, unable to
move quickly or properly defend himself, he dreaded to trust himself
near them. After a while he remembered the old dead oak, which was also
hollow within, and which was so far from the copse it was not probable
Bevis would find it.

Thither he bent his painful steps, for his broken rib hurt him very
much, and after many pauses to rest, presently, in the afternoon, he
came near. Lifting his head above the grass he saw the dead dog, and the
sleeping keeper; he watched them a long time, and seeing that neither of
them moved he advanced closer. As he approached he saw the dead hawk,
and recognised one of Ki Ki's retainers; then coming to the dog, the
blood from the shot wounds excited his terrible thirst. But it had
ceased to flow; he sniffed at it and then went towards the man.

The crow, envious, but afraid to join the venture, watched him from the
ash. Every few inches the weasel stayed, lifted his head; looked, and
listened. Then he advanced again, paused, and again approached. In five
minutes he had reached the keeper's feet; two minutes more and he was by
his waist. He listened again; he sniffed, he knew it was dangerous, but
he could not check the resistless prompting of his appetite.

He crept up on the keeper's chest; the crow fidgeted on the ash. He
crept up to the necktie; the crow came down on a lower bough. He moved
yet another inch to the collar; the crow flew out ten yards and settled
on the ground. The collar was stiff, and partly covered that part of the
neck which fascinated the weasel's gaze. He put his foot softly on the
collar; the crow hopped thrice towards them. He brought up his other
foot, he sniffed--the breath came warm from the man's half-open lips--he
adventured the risk, and placed his paw on the keeper's neck.

Instantly--as if he had received an electric shock--the keeper started
to his knees, shuddering; the weasel dropped from his neck upon the
ground, the crow hastened back to the ash.