During the hours I lay listening, before falling asleep again, my mind was busy with one particular thought--that was, how I should manage in case the rat should return? How was I to destroy--or, at all events, get rid of--this most unwelcome intruder? I would at that moment have given a year of my life for the loan of a steel trap, or any trap that would take rats; but since the loan of a trap was out of the question, I set my brains to work to invent some contrivance that would enable me to rid myself of my unpleasant neighbour: neighbour I might call him, for I knew that his house was not far off--perhaps at that moment he had his den not three feet from my face--likely enough, under the biscuit-box or the cask of brandy. Cudgel my brains as I might I could hit upon no plan to get hold of him--at least, no plan to trap him with safety. I felt pretty sure I could lay my hands upon him, provided he came near enough, just as I had done already; but I was in no humour to repeat that performance. I knew the crevice by which he had retreated. It was the aperture between the two great barrels--the brandy-cask and the water-butt. I fancied he would return the same way, if he came back at all; and it occurred to me that if I were to stop up all the other apertures except that one--which I could easily do with pieces of cloth--let him come in, and then suddenly cut off his retreat by caulking that one also, I should have him in the trap. But this would be placing myself in an awkward situation. I should be in the trap as well as he, and he no nearer destruction than ever, unless I finished him by a hand-to-hand tussle. Of course, I knew I could conquer and kill the rat. My superior strength would enable me to squeeze him to death between my hands, but not without getting a good many severe bites, and the one I had got already hindered me from having any relish for another encounter of the kind. How, then, was I to manage without a trap? That was the thought that occupied me as I lay sleepless and in dread of the rat returning. But I cogitated to no purpose. It was well-nigh morning, when, worn with watching and planning, I fell off into the half-dozing half-dreaming State--of which I have already spoken--and still no feasible plan had offered itself for entrapping the "vermin" that was causing me so much annoyance and alarm. CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT. OH! FOR A STEEL TRAP!