One winter's day in Cornwall we were strolling up a road from the sea that ran between farm buildings, when our attention was attracted to the peculiar movements of some object on the road about a quarter of a mile ahead. Screaming cries came from the rolling mass, and soon we got near enough to see that a struggle was going on between two creatures who were mixed intimately; and finally saw that a large, well-fed Rat had been taken in charge by a lithe little Weasel. Spots of blood on the road and the redness of the rodent's neck-fur showed that the bite that rendered the Rat powerless had been given already. So intent was the Weasel upon the work in hand that for a moment he appeared ignorant of our presence within a few feet. Then he paused, stood upright on his haunches, and looked up with a fierce gleam in his bright black eyes that seemed to say, "Don't interfere, there's a good fellow. I've tackled him fairly--let me finish the job." That slight pause gave the Rat a chance--a very poor one, but he tumbled in a stupid, drunken kind of way towards the hedge, to which the Weasel had been trying to drag him. [Illustration: _Pl. 46._ _F 70._ *Wild Cat.* Felis silvestris.] [Illustration: _Pl. 47._ _F 71._ *Weasel.* Mustela nivalis.] On the other side of the hedge was a "cave" of mangolds upon which the Rats had been committing fearful ravages, as is their wont, and this particular thief had waxed fat upon such fare. The Weasel had evidently caught him in the act of committing larceny, but the Rat had given the little policeman a run through the hedge and across the road before the Weasel had leaped upon the culprit's back and inflicted the deadly bite. So much was told with tolerable certainty by the drops of blood and the footprints on the soft road. Now, getting somewhat alarmed at our presence, the Weasel ran into the hedge; but immediately rallying his pluck came out of his corner again, seeking his quarry who was at the hedge-foot, dreamily looking for the hole that in ordinary health he would have darted to straight. He floundered hopelessly under the herbage; but in a second or two the Weasel had him again by the skin of the back, and was trying to haul him up the bank to get him through the hedge. Then, realising the impossibility of his task--for the Rat was probably six times the Weasel's weight--and finding we had taken up an attitude of benevolent neutrality, not loving Rats, he got on the Rat and finished the business. A few spasmodic movements of the extended limbs showed that the Rat was dead, so we left the Weasel to enjoy his feast of brains in the solitude he desired. [Illustration: *Skeleton of Weasel.*]