d him into a furzebush, and held him there. People said that
his own bare arms had been pricked to the very shoulder from pressing
the drover down into that uncompromising shrub, and the man's howls had
pierced the very heavens. The postman, to this day, would tell how the
mere recollection of seeing it still made him sore all over. Of the
words assigned to Tod on this occasion, the mildest and probably most
true were: "By the Lord God, if you treat a beast like that again, I'll
cut your liver out, you hell-hearted sweep!"

The incident, which had produced a somewhat marked effect in regard to
the treatment of animals all round that neighborhood, had never
been forgotten, nor in a sense forgiven. In conjunction with the
extraordinary peace and mildness of his general behavior, it had endowed
Tod with mystery; and people, especially simple folk, cannot bring
themselves to feel quite at home with mystery. Children only--to whom
everything is so mysterious that nothing can be--treated him as he
treated them, giving him their hands with confidence. But children, even
his own, as they grew up, began to have a little of the village feeling
toward Tod; his world was not theirs, and what exactly his world was
they could not grasp. Possibly it was the sense that they partook of his
interest and affection too much on a level with any other kind of
living thing that might happen to be about, which discomfited their
understanding. They held him, however, in a certain reverence.

That early morning he had already done a good two hours' work in
connection with broad beans, of which he grew, perhaps, the best in the
whole county, and had knocked off for a moment, to examine a spider's
web. This marvellous creation, which the dew had visited and clustered
over, as stars over the firmament, was hung on the gate of the vegetable
garden, and the spider, a large and active one, was regarding Tod
with the misgiving natural to its species. Intensely still Tod stood,
absorbed in contemplation of that bright and dusty miracle. Then, taking
up his hoe again, he went back to the weeds that threatened his broad
beans. Now and again he stopped to listen, or to look at the sky, as is
the way of husbandmen, thinking of nothing, enjoying the peace of his
muscles.

"Please, sir, father's got into a fit again."

Two little girls were standing in the lane below. The elder, who had
spoken in that small, anxious voice, had a pale little face with point