The mole's uneasy, crimson-pointed muzzle came from a hole right on the water's edge. He was feeling for the water. Last night the swollen river had forced its way a yard into his run, and he had blundered headlong into it. Swimming is easy to the mole, but swimming in an inch-wide tube is risky. So, to-night, he was cautious. It might have been fine all day, or it might have been wet, for all he knew. The grass-snake seemed to come up from the river bottom. His head suddenly parted the water beneath the old pollard, and he swam slowly across the stream, craning his neck before him. The pollard was inwardly rotten to the core--a snug retreat for snakes, to which the only entrance was a water-way. The dormouse came from halfway up the hazel, and the wood-mouse came from its roots. They, too, had been three days weather bound; but they were not hungry. Each had its winter store to draw upon. The moths and caterpillars and beetles, came from everywhere--crannies in the brickwork, joints in the palings, crevices in the bark, from neat-rolled envelope of leaf, from hollowed shelter of reed-stem, from pigmy burrows in the ground. * * * * * It was the hedgehog who started it. The hedgehog has a keen sense of humour, and, for that reason, he loves an argument. "I will back my spines," said he, "against any means of defence in the country." He curled himself into a forbidding spiky ball, and rolled slowly down the bank towards the water. On the very brink he stopped and uncurled himself. "Or any means of offence," he added. This was too much. "Spines!" sneered the stoat. "Spines might be some use if you had any pace behind them. Where would they come in against a hare?" [Illustration: IT WAS THE HEDGEHOG WHO STARTED IT.] "Spines would be awkward in the shallows," murmured the water-rat, as she swam quietly over to the far shore, keeping half an eye on the stoat, who was also something of a swimmer. "Spines!" squeaked the noctule from the safe height of a hundred feet. "Why load yourself with spines? Why not fly like me?" "Spines!" shouted the squirrel. "A pretty mess you'd make of it with spines up here. Do you think every one spends their life grubbing after ground beetles?" "Spines!" purred the moths. "We gave up spines at quite an early stage. Haven't you finished moulting, hedgehog?" "Spines!" snapped the trout. "Give me a good set of fins." Now this was exactly what the hedgehog had foreseen. As I have said before, he had a keen sense of humour. "I am willing to hear you all," said he. So, because of his pleistocene lineage, and because of his popularity (the comedian is always the more popular candidate), and because he had started the discussion, he was voted to the chair. [Illustration: THE NOCTULE SPOKE FIRST; HE OPENED HIS MOUTH AS THOUGH HE WOULD EAT THE WORLD.]