There was food also. He found a rabbit's leg at once, then a stiff mummied frog, then half a snake. He made a closer search, and found more rabbit. Each find he sampled. Most of them he gulped, but some he buried carefully for seasoning, scraping small hollows to receive them, and plastering earth upon them with his nose. This done, he coiled himself up tight, and for five minutes dozed with wakeful ears. Thirst brought him to his feet again; thirst and a sense of danger. Clearly this was the Badger's hole--he owed that Marten something. The hole had a main entrance. From this a single shaft led fifteen yards, but then it split, and smaller tunnels joined it, tunnels which might end blind. Badgers no doubt were most benevolent, but Badgers seem to charge at sight, and tunnels were poor places to be charged in. The last reflection scared him back to sense. He would be cornered hopelessly, would not know which of twenty turns to take. That settled it. To wait for them was madness. He must go. [Illustration: IT WAS ANOTHER BADGER] He reached the entrance without accident, and dropped soft-footed down the slope. A puddle on the ride was in his mind--a puddle just beyond the Polecat's stump. He reached this safely also, stooped down his head, and lapped his fill. The wood was oddly silent. Dark clouds had massed low in the sky and streamed to either side, outflanking it. Beneath their dreary shadow the green and russet of the trees faded to lifeless grey. The grass-blades stood up stiffly; the leaves hung stiffly downwards. All that was weatherwise was taking cover. Down from the summit of the ride came the two Badgers, bumping. They travelled leisurely. First He would root an arum up (a flick with one fore-paw), and She would place her paw where his had been. Then He would stretch tiptoe against an oak, and She would do the same. Then He would wheel sharp right or left, and She would follow like a truck. [Illustration: SHE CAME OUT FULL CHARGE] The Cub had time to entrench himself securely. He chose the summit of the Polecat's stump, and from it watched the pair of them bump past. They quickened as they faced the rise, and grunted to each other; then, with their heads down, sped in line uphill. And with their going came the rain. It spattered in large warning drops, then swished in sheets. Even before the thunder-peals, and rattle of fierce hail, the stump became untenable. The Fox Cub scrambled down from it, headed a dozen different ways, and, in the end, grown desperate, pursued the retreating Badgers. He caught them as they reached the hole, and saw them topple down it. He gave them half a minute's grace and toppled after. [Illustration: AND IN DUE COURSE OF TIME, HIS WIFE] What happened next? That I can only guess at. Perhaps there was a Fox Cub course for dinner; perhaps (and this, I think, is likeliest) the Badgers took small notice of his entry. They may have even welcomed him, and, in due course of time, his wife.