"Never mind him," said the Stoat, "he's silly." The broad grey back had swung about, and Badger's head was lifted. Slowly it swayed from side to side, slowly it nodded. "Where are his eyes?" whispered the Fox Cub. "In his head," chuckled the Stoat. "His head's a puzzle," said the Fox Cub--which, indeed, it was. Seen from above, and swinging to and fro, its clean-cut symmetries of black and white foreshortened in confusion. [Illustration] "Wait till he fronts you," said the Stoat, and presently this happened. The head stopped motionless. A broad white stripe divided it; on either side were triangles of black; beneath was white again, and white tricked out the outline of each ear. "He's black beneath," said the Stoat, "and grey behind--now you can see him." Badger had backed a pace or two and craned his neck to snuffle. Ebon-chested he was and ebon-footed. "Still I can't see his eyes," muttered the Fox Cub, but, even as he spoke, he saw them--steadfast, watchful, gimlet eyes, as black as their black setting. "And now we _all_ have seen you," said the Stoat. "Marten has seen you; Polecat has seen you; Weasel has seen you; I have seen you; and Badger has seen you. Fox Cub, you yet have much to learn in stealth. Go, make your peace with Badger." "What have I done?" said the Fox Cub. "You've come unasked," said the Stoat. "I was brought," said the Fox Cub. "That makes no difference," said the Stoat. "The wood belongs to US!" "US! US! us!" the hillside caught the echo of it, and filled with sibilant voices. [Illustration: "MY PLUMED TAIL! YOU WAIT TILL SQUIRREL GROWS." "NEVER MIND HIM," SAID THE STOAT, "HE'S SILLY"] "US-S-S-S-s-s!" it was the Stoat departing. "US-S!" screamed the Squirrel, boldly, from his branch. "_You?_" sneered the Fox Cub. "You simian rat! You fuzz-tailed, fish-eyed rabbit! Think of your teeth next time you wash your face." The Squirrel stamped and spat at him. "Wait till I grow," he spluttered. "Wait till my head's as big as yours. Wait till I give up nuts." "Oh, do be quiet," said the Cub. "I want to think." "It might be worth my while," he mused. "I _like_ this wood." [Illustration] Badger was grunting softly to himself. His head still swayed and nodded. Now and again he scratched the ground before him. The Fox Cub rose up cautiously, and sat back on his haunches. He saw the whole of Badger now, the iron-grey back, the magpie head, the stumpy tarbrush tail. He stole two stealthy paces down the slope, but checked as Badger squared himself. Two paces more--and Badger ducked his head, and charged full drive uphill at him. The Fox Cub bolted straightway, turned sharp upon the hill-crest, ran half the length of it, slid headlong down the sand-cliff (the stones rattling about him), followed the ride for fifty yards, swung sharply to the right, and so, by some strange instinct, reached the gorse-clump. [Illustration: MARTEN HAS SEEN YOU]