m, you see. They're not so bad really; and
we must all live and let live. But I'll pass the word around
to-morrow, and I think you'll have no further trouble. Any friend of
_mine_ walks where he likes in this country, or I'll know the reason
why!"

When they got back to the kitchen again, they found the Rat walking up
and down, very restless. The underground atmosphere was oppressing him
and getting on his nerves, and he seemed really to be afraid that the
river would run away if he wasn't there to look after it. So he had
his overcoat on, and his pistols thrust into his belt again. "Come
along, Mole," he said anxiously, as soon as he caught sight of them.
"We must get off while it's daylight. Don't want to spend another
night in the Wild Wood again."

"It'll be all right, my fine fellow," said the Otter. "I'm coming
along with you, and I know every path blindfold; and if there's a
head that needs to be punched, you can confidently rely upon me to
punch it."

"You really needn't fret, Ratty," added the Badger placidly. "My
passages run further than you think, and I've bolt-holes to the edge
of the wood in several directions, though I don't care for everybody
to know about them. When you really have to go, you shall leave by one
of my short cuts. Meantime, make yourself easy, and sit down again."

The Rat was nevertheless still anxious to be off and attend to his
river, so the Badger, taking up his lantern again, led the way along a
damp and airless tunnel that wound and dipped, part vaulted, part hewn
through solid rock, for a weary distance that seemed to be miles. At
last daylight began to show itself confusedly through tangled growth
overhanging the mouth of the passage; and the Badger, bidding them a
hasty good-bye, pushed them hurriedly through the opening, made
everything look as natural as possible again, with creepers,
brushwood, and dead leaves, and retreated.

They found themselves standing on the very edge of the Wild Wood. Rocks
and brambles and tree-roots behind them, confusedly heaped and tangled;
in front, a great space of quiet fields, hemmed by lines of hedges black
on the snow, and, far ahead, a glint of the familiar old river, while
the wintry sun hung red and low on the horizon. The Otter, as knowing
all the paths, took charge of the party, and they trailed out on a
bee-line for a distant stile. Pausing there a moment and looking back,
they saw the whole mass of the Wild Wood, dense, menacing,