"You go downhill to the hollow," said the Marten, gently. "Right at the bottom you will find an oak-stump, and if you look inside it (which I don't advise), you will find a family of Polecats." [Illustration: "AND PERHAPS YOU WILL BE GOOD ENOUGH TO GET HIGHER UP THE TREE, WHILE I COME UNDERNEATH"] "Polecats?" said the Fox Cub. "Yes, Polecats," said the Marten. "Turn up to the left at the stump, and make for the silver birch at the top of the rise. The hole is close by that." "Much obliged," said the Fox Cub, "and perhaps you will be good enough to get higher up the tree, while I come underneath." "Certainly," said the Marten. From twig to twig she sprang, so daintily, so airily, that a mere flutter signalled her ascent. "Will this do?" cried she from the topmost branch. Her forefeet hung on its extremity; her hind-feet curved and dangled; her tail twitched underneath her. "That will do," said the Fox Cub. Before the words were spoken he was past the tree; before the Marten reached the ground he gained his stride, which was good going. The Marten checked at twenty yards. "I've done my share," she said, and sauntered up the tree again. [Illustration] The Fox Cub quickly hit the ride, noted its slope, and keeping close in touch with it, slunk velvet-footed through the abutting cover. His pads dropped soft as thistle-down, he scarcely stirred a leaf, and yet the weasel, nosing in the brambles, got wind of him and squeaked. She was a five-inch weasel, too small to check his progress, yet large enough for mischief. Should she be silenced? He swung about--the scent of her still lingered--and in a moment he was on her trail. Three bounds and he had sighted her. She shot beneath a bramble-patch, issued where he had least foreseen, and tricked him in a maze of straggling roots. He worked back, sulky-faced, towards the ride, but checked ten paces from the oak-stump. Its tenant sat upon it--the purple, snaking, whiplash thing which had perplexed him earlier. Now he saw head to tail of it. The white-rimmed ears, the ochre-banded forehead, the bold eyes, spectacled with brown, the coarse brown-purple body-fur flecked here and there with streaks of shimmery buff--all these he took quiet note of, and presently saw many aspects of them. [Illustration] The Marten had been right. The Polecat's mate came sneaking from the hollow, and close behind her squirmed four red-brown cubs, loose-jointed yet, but muscular, whimpering pettishly, mauling each other as they ran.