I passed the large house down the valley, and beyond it the river broadened, but still ran with almost unabated speed. Soon I had cleared the wood, and was driving along between pastures which sloped steeply upwards from bluff-like banks. Once I saw a drowned sheep caught in the brambles under a curve, and shuddered to think how soon the same fate might befall me. Field after field flew by, and once more the river plunged into the shadow of thick trees, and then a new and terrifying sound came to my ears. It was the deep, sullen roar of falling water. Sweeping round a wide curve, I became aware of a long weir in front penning the brimming river which foamed along its top, while through the open sluice-gates the main stream plunged in a mass of yellow foam. Now, indeed, I gave myself up for lost, for I saw that I could not hope to survive the passage down that fierce fall. On like an arrow sped the plank, straight for the centre of the opening, and all hope that it might drift against the weir was gone, when, suddenly, with a jar that almost flung me from my insecure perch, the front end of the plank struck something hidden below the muddy water, probably a sunken stake, and instantly was swung side on, jamming across the very mouth of the gates. Gathering all my few remaining energies, I made a feeble leap, and more by good luck than good management reached the top of the weir. Even then my troubles were not over, for the weir was old and broken, and in places the flood was actually foaming over its top. But after waiting a little to recover my strength, I succeeded in jumping these gaps, and at last struggled safely ashore once more. I was soaked as I had never been in my life before, chilled to the bone, so exhausted that I could hardly move, and yet intensely grateful to be once more on firm ground. Luckily for me, the sun was still shining, and the air mild and warm for the time of year; so I crawled up into a small tree, and lying out on a branch on the sunny side, waited for my dripping fur to dry a little. My position was far from an enviable one. Here I was, in a strange wood, far away from our winter-quarters, and separated from Walnut, without food, friends, or a home. However, Walnut was luckily well able to look after himself, and there was no doubt about finding food of some sort, so I consoled myself with the thought that I would start as soon as possible and make my way back to the river wood. While I sat there sunning myself I was surprised and pleased to hear a familiar gnawing sound in a neighbouring beech-tree, and suddenly there came into view another squirrel, a handsome fellow with an uncommonly light coat. I called to him, and he came across in a most friendly way. He remarked on my dripping coat civilly, and I told him the story of my misfortunes. ‘Ugh!’ he shuddered, with a glance at the foaming river, ‘I wouldn’t take a swim in that—not for a coppice full of cob-nuts!’