gs on?"

Toad, who was on the sofa by this time, with his legs up, rolled over
on his face, shaken by sobs of contrition.

"There, there!" went on the Badger, more kindly. "Never mind. Stop
crying. We're going to let bygones be bygones, and try and turn over a
new leaf. But what the Mole says is quite true. The stoats are on
guard, at every point, and they make the best sentinels in the world.
It's quite useless to think of attacking the place. They're too strong
for us."

"Then it's all over," sobbed the Toad, crying into the sofa cushions.
"I shall go and enlist for a soldier, and never see my dear Toad Hall
any more!"

"Come, cheer up, Toady!" said the Badger. "There are more ways of
getting back a place than taking it by storm. I haven't said my last
word yet. Now I'm going to tell you a great secret."

Toad sat up slowly and dried his eyes. Secrets had an immense
attraction for him, because he never could keep one, and he enjoyed
the sort of unhallowed thrill he experienced when he went and told
another animal, after having faithfully promised not to.

"There--is--an--underground--passage," said the Badger, impressively,
"that leads from the river-bank, quite near here, right up into the
middle of Toad Hall."

"O, nonsense! Badger," said Toad, rather airily. "You've been
listening to some of the yarns they spin in the public-houses about
here. I know every inch of Toad Hall, inside and out. Nothing of the
sort, I do assure you!"

"My young friend," said the Badger, with great severity, "your father,
who was a worthy animal--a lot worthier than some others I know--was a
particular friend of mine, and told me a great deal he wouldn't have
dreamt of telling you. He discovered that passage--he didn't make it,
of course; that was done hundreds of years before he ever came to live
there--and he repaired it and cleaned it out, because he thought it
might come in useful some day, in case of trouble or danger; and he
showed it to me. 'Don't let my son know about it,' he said. 'He's a
good boy, but very light and volatile in character, and simply cannot
hold his tongue. If he's ever in a real fix, and it would be of use to
him, you may tell him about the secret passage; but not before.'"

The other animals looked hard at Toad to see how he would take it.
Toad was inclined to be sulky at first; but he brightened up
immediately, like the good fellow he was.

"Well, well," he said; "perhaps I am a bit of a talker.