He was quite badly scared. His tongue lolled dripping from his mouth; his sides heaved painfully; he felt that, come what may, he must lie down. So he squirmed, eel-like, underneath the furze, twisted himself about, and, with his head thrust outwards, snuffed and listened. He had outdistanced Badger--of that he soon assured himself. Yet there was something watching him, something whose curious stare he felt. His eyes ranged anxiously from point to point, dwelt on each tuft and hummock in the grass, dwelt long upon a jerking patch of moss, which in due course revealed a white-legged mouse, and in the end cast upwards. [Illustration] Above him stretched a leafless branch of elm, and on its clean-cut, fretted edge a moving blur intruded--a blur which swelled and shrunk in steady rhythm, and twitched and wriggled forward in short jerks, so closely welded to the bark, so neatly matched in hue to it, that, but for movement, it had cheated sight. The Fox Cub watched it furtively, his yellow eyes upturned. It checked, and from the end of it dropped a soft feathery plume, and hung and dangled lightly. Its lines were unmistakable, it was a tail. Then, as the Fox Cub gazed, the head took shape--a flat-browed, taper-muzzled head, with shimmery velvet eyes, which seemed to look beyond as well as at him. Such was the Marten couched. Their eyes met, and he saw her rampant. She leapt from where she lay to where, six feet above, the branch forked double. Astride on this, her forefeet on the upper arm, her hind-feet on the lower, she faced about and screamed-- "Ai-_yah_-ai-ee! Ai-_yah_-ai-ee! A Fox! A Fox!" The scream dropped to a whine, then to a bleat--"_Huh-huh-huh-huh! Huh-huh-huh-huh-huh-huh-huh!_"--then swelled into a scream again. Out leapt the Fox Cub, impudent, and faced the music. "The last part again, Marten," he cried. "Oh, _please_, the last part again!" [Illustration] The Marten stared, mouth open "A cub!" she gasped; "not even a grown fox--a woolly, blunt-nosed cub." "Do you know where you are?" she added, shortly. "Yes, I do," said the Fox Cub. "The wood belongs to US. Marten and Polecat, Stoat and Weasel. Flesh-eaters All. All of one Brotherhood. Beasties Courageous. I hope I've got that right--and you all kow-tow to Badger." "And where do _you_ come in?" said the Marten grimly. His coolness took her fancy. "The first good roomy hole I find," said the Fox Cub. "I like this wood and in this wood I'll stop." "_Huh-huh-huh-huh-huh-huh-huh_," said the Marten. "Quite so," said the Fox Cub. The Marten snuggled down, her eyes a-twinkle. "I know exactly the kind of hole you'd like," she said. "Where's that?" said the Fox Cub. "Listen to me carefully," said the Marten, "and you can't miss it. You know where the holm oak is--of course you don't. Look here. Get back on to the ride and follow that. It leads you to a hollow." "It leads two ways," said the Fox Cub.