re was still the danger that he might
attempt to move, and so find out too soon the trick that had been played
upon him. To avert this, directly the Rabbit came back again he lost no
time in remarking to the Sentry:

"Yes, I acknowledge you have won the bet. But you have only just managed
to do so; you are looking quite tired out. Another five minutes or less,
and you would have been unable to stand still a moment longer."

"Double or quits!" cried the Sentry. "For another gold piece, I'll
engage to keep still for the time you mention. If I fail to do so, of
course you don't pay me anything."

"Agreed," said the Rabbit.

"Oh, friends," exclaimed the Mouse, shaking his head, "do not give way
to this habit! It is, indeed, a sad, bad one."

This he merely said to impress the Owl (on whom he had not counted as a
spectator) with a sense of his moral worth. He hoped by this means to
counteract any after suspicions that might arise in the good bird's
mind.

"As to that," said the Sentry, who was generally rude whether he was
addressing friend or foe, "it is my own concern whether I bet or not.
You had better not trouble yourself with my affairs, but if you really
mean to give me one of your performances you would do well to begin."

"Just as you will," the Mouse said. "But I can't help taking an
interest in the welfare of those with whom I have to do." Then
addressing the Rabbit: "Dear friend," he said smoothly, "will you open
with your famous _reverie_, 'Dreamings of a Drum,' whilst I perform my
_pas de quatre_, 'Twirlings of the Toes?'"

"Very good," agreed the Rabbit.

And the two performers began. But in a few moments the Rabbit stopped.

"I cannot continue," he said. "I am suffering from cramp in the muscles
of my drum-legs."

"Dear! What a pity!" exclaimed the Mouse. "Come for a walk and brace
yourself up."

"All right!" answered the Rabbit. "We'll go and fetch the gold pieces
which I must give this fellow."

"Can't you give me something at once?" asked the Sentry, who did not, in
his greed of gold, wish to lose the chance of getting all he could.

"I've nothing with me," replied the Rabbit. And so saying he followed
the Mouse, who with his back towards the Sentry had already moved away.

They had hardly gone more than half a dozen steps when the Mouse said
suddenly and loudly: "That Sentry friend of ours is a smart chap; _he_
knows how to handle the bayonet."

"You are right," answered the Rabbit, an