Then suddenly I was out of the darkness and on the top of the hedge, scratched, breathless, my wounded ear bleeding again. But where was Rusty? I could not see him, and a horrible fear almost numbed me. Just in front the branches were shaking, but it was too thick to see what was happening below. Anxiety overcoming terror, I made a dive forward into the tangle from which I had just escaped with much difficulty, and almost as I did so there came Rusty’s head out of the thicket. His eyes were bright with fright, and he dragged himself forward slowly, as if something were pulling him back. Instantly I saw that a weasel had him by the tail, its sharp teeth buried in the thick, long hairs. Without thinking twice, I plunged down and snapped with all my might at the fierce brute’s head. My long front teeth sank deep into the back of his neck, and I felt them grate on his skull. His jaws opened and he fell backwards, knocking over the next of the pack in his fall. Relieved of the weight, Rusty shot upwards, and with half a dozen tremendous bounds was out of danger. As I followed him, a third weasel gained the top of the hedge, and, throwing its long body high into the air, like a snake in the act of striking, tried its best to seize me. I heard its needle-like, white teeth snap and caught a glimpse of its red eyes gleaming fiercely; but I was too quick for it, and, as it fell back disappointed, I was off in Rusty’s wake at a speed that defied pursuit. Regardless of concealment, we tore along the top of the hedge until level with the trees, then, turning off to the left, reached the timber, and so from tree to tree towards the coppice. The sun was just setting when two worn-out, scratched, frightened, and very disreputable-looking squirrels reached the old beech and made humble confession to their mother of all that had happened to them during that adventurous day, and, after a thorough good scolding, were at last forgiven and permitted to sup on beech-mast and curl up with the rest of their family snug in the heart of the great beech trunk. After this day I found that Rusty treated me with far more consideration than he had ever shown before. He dropped his jeers about ‘tame’ squirrels, and showed in his silent way that he was pleased to have my company in his wanderings abroad. I forgot to say that, though his brush looked a little lopsided for a time, the hair soon grew again, while my wound healed rapidly; but I still have a small hole through the left ear where the shot passed, to remind me of my narrow escape.