MISCHIEVOUS IMAGINATIONS 



97 



running along the track. There would be no smell 

 to guide him if the man had known his business, 

 and had rubbed his hands well in the mud — no 

 smell of iron, no smell of bait. So he would just 

 come trotting along quite happily, dreaming of 

 nothing but the pond ahead of him and of the 

 delicious drink awaiting him there, his head would 

 go through the noose, the two notches would be 

 pulled apart — the least little jerk would do it if 

 the trap was well set — the hazel wand would 

 spring upwards, jerking the noose tight round his 

 neck, and up he would fly into the air, leaving 

 the way absolutely clear for the next rat to come 

 along the same track. There would be nothing to 

 tell him of the tragedy which had just happened, 

 and the same fate would overtake him a yard 

 further on, and the path to death would again be 

 clear. As I have said, I believe honestly that if 

 that man had taken the trouble to set a hundred 

 traps he would have cleared out the greater part of 

 our merry colony. 



Luckily he was idle, and was content with sixteen, 

 one of which failed, because, 1 suppose, most of the 

 rats went along the other tracks. But I remem- 

 bered the hideous sight of those fifteen corpses 

 dangling in the wind for at least a day, which is 



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