WILD LIFE 79 



him out. I have, first and last, interviewed a good 

 many moles and know their disposition pretty well, 

 but the extreme excitability and violence of this mole 

 of the high downs fairly surprised me. Taking him 

 to a spot where there was a smooth, close, hard turf, I 

 released him, when, finding that he could not break 

 through the matted roots and bury himself in the soil, 

 he began to act in the maddest way, wriggling his 

 body and dashing himself on the ground, screaming 

 all the time as if some one was murdering him, although 

 I was not touching nor even standing very near him. 

 It was useless to interrogate so irrational a creature ; 

 and leaving him to make his way back to his own 

 subterraneous city, or Welbeck Abbey, I walked on still 

 occupied with my mole problem. I could not sup- 

 pose that want of water had made this individual mad, 

 seeing that he was sleek and well nourished and had 

 struggled powerfully when I had held him in my 

 hand. If I, so much bigger than a mole, had his 

 strength and shape I could move mountains. 



Walking on I met an intelligent-looking shepherd, 

 who was, I found, a good observer and something of a 

 naturalist ; and to him I put the question that occu- 

 pied me. He told me that he had been shepherding on 

 these hills above forty years, and the moles had always 

 been there where they had no water to drink. " They 

 must drink or die," said I : "it is down in the books, 

 and therefore it must be true." He shook his head 

 at the books and replied that the moles come out at 



