200 STUBBS THE BADGER 
creeping underground, knocked at the closed doors 
of the badgers' brains, and told them that the frost 
was gone and the night was warm. Stubbs woke 
first, and groped his way out. The air was mild and 
damp, and the roar of the river was borne to him 
as, rain-laden, it plunged over the weir. The dead 
leaves were moist and limp, and overhead a foggy 
moon peered through the bare trees. He trotted 
stiffly down the woods and visited his old haunts, 
but, go where he would, he could find nothing to eat 
but a few sodden mushrooms. An hour later he 
returned, wet and chilled, and lay down in his dor- 
mitory to suck his paws meditatively, until sleep 
overtook him again. His head dropped on his fore- 
pads, and, with a sigh, he fell into a slumber which 
lasted, with few waking hours, until the Spring 
Longing came to the woods, and roused him with 
the rest of the Fur Folk. 
Spring nights are stormy with driving rain- 
showers, but under the trees the Fur Folk are 
sheltered from the blustering winds, and come and 
go from dusk to dawn ; for the day on which the 
first throstle sings is the beginning of the new year 
in the woods. 
The badgers came out with the rest, but they 
were lean with long fasting, and their toes were 
tender with much drowsy sucking. Stubbs went 
