TOO FLUFF-BUTTON THE RABBIT 
knew that her presence would only add to their 
danger. When she looked back to judge of the 
success of her stratagem, the three brown babies 
were invisible in the grass, but the white one could 
be seen all over the field. Nevertheless, because 
of the rulings of the law of the Fur Folk, Brownie 
went her way, and left her litter to shift for them- 
selves during the day. 
The rain had ceased at sunrise, and, although 
grey vapours curled before the clearing lift, the 
hillside was a very pleasant place. There were 
rosy clover clubs, and the yellow bird's foot trefoil 
beloved of blue butterflies, daisies, and the dainty 
milkweed, all growing so close together that the 
grass was almost crowded out. The fluting of the 
blackbirds in Knockdane only seemed the more 
mellow for the rain, and skylarks mounted up in 
rapturous jubilee. 
The sun had climbed quite high before the 
sparrow-hawk came swinging round the wood. He 
spied the tell-tale white ears a hundred yards away, 
and turned towards them. He slanted down at 
fifty miles an hour, glanced aside six feet from 
the rush-tuft, and switch-backed upwards again 
rabbit verily, but doubtful uncanny white. 
Again he stooped and hovered. This stillness, this 
whiteness transcended his experience. It was too 
