We crossed the road again, and resolved that though the distance was considerably greater, we would stick to the hedge all the way, and not trust ourselves again to the open grass. Fortunately for our peace of mind, the road along the side of which we were forced to travel was quite deserted, and, keeping as much as possible in the centre of the hedge, we slipped along at best pace. Of course, it was not by any means easy travelling, for in places the quickset was so thick and close that we were forced to take to the ground for short distances. Ground near a hedge is always most dangerous, for an old hedgerow, especially one with high banks either of earth or stone, is the chosen home of the stoat and the weasel, and both these bloodthirsty little terrors are quite as much at home among the branches of a thick hedge as even a squirrel. More than half of our journey was covered in safety, and when we reached and crossed the brook we began to feel as though we were almost home. But we were not to escape without further adventure. A little way past the brook, just as we were nearing the timber which I have mentioned as running in an irregular row along the inside of this part of the hedge, there came a piece of holly so thick and close-cropped as to be quite impenetrable except very close to the ground. It would really have been wiser to have cut out across the field to the nearest of the trees, but we had had such a scare that we shirked the open. Rusty, leading as before, had got half-way through the holly, when I saw him stop short, and then, with a little warning cry, make a quick bound upwards into the thickest heart of the holly. At the same moment the tangled ivy which covered the bank below became alive with little beady eyes and snake-like, sinuous forms. We had run right into a whole pack of weasels hunting together, as is their custom on autumn afternoons. I was after him like a flash, but the brutes had seen us, and came swarming up the close-set stems, hard at our heels. Under ordinary circumstances we could have cleared them in half a dozen bounds, but here we were at a shocking disadvantage. Above our heads the holly was like a wall, and it was all we could do to force our way through the stiff, glistening, dark-green leaves. I remember plunging along desperately, almost mad with fright, my eyes half-shut to protect them from the sharp prickles, and my nostrils full of the horrible, musky odour of our eager pursuers.