“It’s Billy Mink!” gasped Peter. “If he follows you, don’t run into a hole in the ground, or into a hollow log, whatever you do! Keep going! He’ll get tired after a while. There he is--run!” Peter bounded off one way and Tommy another. After a few jumps, Tommy squatted to make sure whether or not he was being followed. He saw a slim, dark form slipping through the brambles, and he knew that Billy Mink was following Peter. Tommy couldn’t help a tiny sigh of relief. He was sorry for Peter; but Peter knew every path and twist and turn, while he didn’t. It was a great deal better that Peter should be the one to try to fool Billy Mink. So Tommy sat perfectly still and watched. He saw Peter twist and turn, run in a circle, criss-cross, run back on his own trail, and make a break by leaping far to one side. He saw Billy Mink follow every twist and turn, his nose in Peter’s tracks. When he reached the place where Peter had broken the trail, he ran in ever widening circles until he picked it up again, and once more Peter was on the run. Tommy felt little cold shivers chase up and down his back as he watched how surely and persistently Billy Mink followed. And then--he hardly knew how it happened--Peter had jumped right over him, and there was Billy Mink coming! There was nothing to do but run, and Tommy ran. He doubled and twisted and played all the tricks he had seen Peter play, and then at last, when he was beginning to get quite tired, he played the same trick on Peter that had seemed so dreadful when Peter played it on him; he led Billy Mink straight to where Peter was sitting, and once more Peter was the hunted. But Billy Mink was getting tired. After a little, he gave up and went in quest of something more easily caught. Peter came back to where Tommy was sitting. “Billy Mink’s a tough customer to get rid of alone, but, with some one to change off with, it is no trick at all!” said he. “It wouldn’t work so well with his cousin, Shadow the Weasel. He’s the one I _am_ afraid of. I think we should be safer if we had some new paths; what do you think?” Tommy confessed that he thought so too. It would have been very much easier to have dodged Billy Mink if there had been a few more cross paths. “We better make them before we need them more than we did this time,” said Peter; and, as this was just plain, sound, rabbit common sense, Tommy was forced to agree. And so it was that he learned that a rabbit must work if he would live long and be happy. He didn’t think of it in just this way as he patiently cut paths through the brambles and tangles of bush and vine. It was fear, just plain fear, that was driving him. And even this drove him to work only by spells. Between times, when he wasn’t eating, he sat squatting under a bush just lazily dreaming, but always ready to run for his life.