THE TUNNEL RUNNERS 213 



the refugees returned to their old haunts 

 among the " broad-leaf." But the brown 

 mouse elected to remain in his burrow beside 

 the rose-thicket. His taste had turned to 

 the clover and timothy stalks, and the 

 meadow was alive with brown crickets and 

 toothsome, big green grasshoppers. More- 

 over, in the heat of late July, he loved to 

 swim in the bland waters of the stream, 

 keeping close along shore, under the shadow 

 of the long grass and the overhanging roses, 

 and avoiding the dense patches of weed 

 which might give shelter to the darting 

 pickerel. His burrow was roomy and gave 

 accommodation to a silken-furred brown 

 mate, who set herself without delay to the 

 duty of replenishing the diminished population 

 of the marsh-mice. 



In spite of foraging hawks, foxes, weasels, 

 and minks, in spite of calamities, swift and fre- 

 quent, overtaking this, that, and another of the 

 innumerable kindred of the mice, the summer 

 hours passed benignly over the burrow by 

 the rose-thicket. Then, one sultry scented 

 morning, there came a change. The deep 

 quiet of the meadow went to pieces in blatant 

 clamour. Loud-voiced men and snorting, 

 trampling, clanking horses came to the edge 

 of the grass, and with them two strange 



