It was already getting towards dusk when he reached the first fringe of trees and plunged without hesitation into the wood, looking anxiously on either side for any sign of his friend. Here and there wicked little faces popped out of holes, but vanished immediately at sight of the valorous animal, his pistols, and the great ugly cudgel in his grasp; and the whistling and pattering, which he had heard quite plainly on his first entry, died away and ceased, and all was very still. He made his way manfully through the length of the wood, to its furthest edge; then, forsaking all paths, he set himself to traverse it, laboriously working over the whole ground, and all the time calling out cheerfully, `Moly, Moly, Moly! Where are you? It's me--it's old Rat!'
He had patiently hunted through the wood for an hour or more, when at last to his joy he heard a little answering cry. Guiding himself by the sound, he made his way through the gathering darkness to the foot of an old beech tree, with a hole in it, and from out of the hole came a feeble voice, saying `Ratty! Is that really you?'
The Rat crept into the hollow, and there he found the Mole, exhausted and still trembling. `O Rat!' he cried, `I've been so frightened, you can't think!'
`O, I quite understand,' said the Rat soothingly. `You shouldn't really have gone and done it, Mole. I did my best to keep you from it. We river- bankers, we hardly ever come here by ourselves. If we have to come, we come in couples, at least; then we're generally all right. Besides, there are a hundred things one has to know, which we understand all about and you don't, as yet. I mean passwords, and signs, and sayings which have powerand effect, and plants you carry in your pocket, and verses you repeat, and dodges and tricks you practise; all ****** enough when you know them, but they've got to be known if you're small, or you'll find yourself in trouble. Of course if you were Badger or Otter, it would be quite another matter.'
`Surely the brave Mr. Toad wouldn't mind coming here by himself, would he?' inquired the Mole.
`Old Toad?' said the Rat, laughing heartily. `He wouldn't show his face here alone, not for a whole hatful of golden guineas, Toad wouldn't.'
The Mole was greatly cheered by the sound of the Rat's careless laughter, as well as by the sight of his stick and his gleaming pistols, and he stopped shivering and began to feel bolder and more himself again.
`Now then,' said the Rat presently, `we really must pull ourselves together and make a start for home while there's still a little light left. It will never do to spend the night here, you understand. Too cold, for one thing.'
`Dear Ratty,' said the poor Mole, `I'm dreadfully sorry, but I'm simply dead beat and that's a solid fact. You MUST let me rest here a while longer, and get my strength back, if I'm to get home at all.'
`O, all right,' said the good-natured Rat, `rest away. It's pretty nearly pitch dark now, anyhow; and there ought to be a bit of a moon later.'
So the Mole got well into the dry leaves and stretched himself out, and presently dropped off into sleep, though of a broken and troubled sort; while the Rat covered himself up, too, as best he might, for warmth, and lay patiently waiting, with a pistol in his paw.
When at last the Mole woke up, much refreshed and in his usual spirits, the Rat said, `Now then! I'll just take a look outside and see if everything's quiet, and then we really must be off.'
He went to the entrance of their retreat and put his head out. Then the Mole heard him saying quietly to himself, `Hullo! hullo! here-- is--a--go!'
`What's up, Ratty?' asked the Mole.
`SNOW is up,' replied the Rat briefly; `or rather, DOWN. It's snowing hard.'
The Mole came and crouched beside him, and, looking out, saw thewood that had been so dreadful to him in quite a changed aspect. Holes, hollows, pools, pitfalls, and other black menaces to the wayfarer were vanishing fast, and a gleaming carpet of faery was springing up everywhere, that looked too delicate to be trodden upon by rough feet. A fine powder filled the air and caressed the cheek with a tingle in its touch, and the black boles of the trees showed up in a light that seemed to come from below.
`Well, well, it can't be helped,' said the Rat, after pondering. `We must make a start, and take our chance, I suppose. The worst of it is, I don't exactly know where we are. And now this snow makes everything look so very different.'
It did indeed. The Mole would not have known that it was the same wood. However, they set out bravely, and took the line that seemed most promising, holding on to each other and pretending with invincible cheerfulness that they recognized an old friend in every fresh tree that grimly and silently greeted them, or saw openings, gaps, or paths with a familiar turn in them, in the monotony of white space and black tree- trunks that refused to vary.
An hour or two later--they had lost all count of time--they pulled up, dispirited, weary, and hopelessly at sea, and sat down on a fallen tree- trunk to recover their breath and consider what was to be done. They were aching with fatigue and bruised with tumbles; they had fallen into several holes and got wet through; the snow was getting so deep that they could hardly drag their little legs through it, and the trees were thicker and more like each other than ever. There seemed to be no end to this wood, and no beginning, and no difference in it, and, worst of all, no way out.
