17

THE TALE OF MR. TOD

[For William Francis of Ulva--Someday!]





I have made many books about

well-behaved people. Now, for a

change, I am going to make a story

about two disagreeable people,

called Tommy Brock and Mr. Tod.



Nobody could call Mr. Tod

"nice." The rabbits could not bear

him; they could smell him half a

mile off. He was of a wandering

habit and he had foxy whiskers;

they never knew where he would be next.



One day he was living in a stick-

house in the coppice [grove], causing

terror to the family of old Mr.

Benjamin Bouncer. Next day he

moved into a pollard willow near

the lake, frightening the wild ducks

and the water rats.



In winter and early spring he

might generally be found in an

earth amongst the rocks at the top

of Bull Banks, under Oatmeal Crag.



He had half a dozen houses, but

he was seldom at home.



The houses were not always

empty when Mr. Tod moved OUT;

because sometimes Tommy Brock

moved IN; (without asking leave).



Tommy Brock was a short bristly

fat waddling person with a grin; he

grinned all over his face. He was

not nice in his habits. He ate wasp

nests and frogs and worms; and he

waddled about by moonlight, digging

things up.



His clothes were very dirty; and

as he slept in the daytime, he al-

ways went to bed in his boots. And

the bed which he went to bed in

was generally Mr. Tod's.



Now Tommy Brock did occasionally

eat rabbit pie; but it was only

very little young ones occasionally,

when other food was really scarce.

He was friendly with old Mr.

Bouncer; they agreed in disliking

the wicked otters and Mr. Tod; they

often talked over that painful subject.



Old Mr. Bouncer was stricken in

years. He sat in the spring sunshine

outside the burrow, in a muffler;

smoking a pipe of rabbit tobacco.



He lived with his son Benjamin

Bunny and his daughter-in-law

Flopsy, who had a young family.

Old Mr. Bouncer was in charge of

the family that afternoon, because

Benjamin and Flopsy had gone out.



The little rabbit babies were just

old enough to open their blue eyes

and kick. They lay in a fluffy bed of

rabbit wool and hay, in a shallow

burrow, separate from the main

rabbit hole. To tell the truth--old

Mr. Bouncer had forgotten them.



He sat in the sun, and conversed

cordially with Tommy Brock, who

was passing through the wood with

a sack and a little spud which he

used for digging, and some mole

traps. He complained bitterly

about the scarcity of pheasants'

eggs, and accused Mr. Tod of

poaching them. And the otters had

cleared off all the frogs while he

was asleep in winter--"I have not

had a good square meal for a fort-

night, I am living on pig-nuts. I

shall have to turn vegetarian and

eat my own tail!" said Tommy

Brock.



It was not much of a joke, but it

tickled old Mr. Bouncer; because

Tommy Brock was so fat and

stumpy and grinning.



So old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and

pressed Tommy Brock to come inside,

to taste a slice of seed cake

and "a glass of my daughter Flopsy's

cowslip wine." Tommy Brock

squeezed himself into the rabbit

hole with alacrity.



Then old Mr. Bouncer smoked

another pipe, and gave Tommy

Brock a cabbage leaf cigar which

was so very strong that it made

Tommy Brock grin more than ever;

and the smoke filled the burrow.

Old Mr. Bouncer coughed and

laughed; and Tommy Brock puffed

and grinned.



And Mr. Bouncer laughed and

coughed, and shut his eyes because

of the cabbage smoke ..........



When Flopsy and Benjamin came

back old Mr. Bouncer woke up.

Tommy Brock and all the young

rabbit babies had disappeared!



Mr. Bouncer would not confess

that he had admitted anybody into

the rabbit hole. But the smell of

badger was undeniable; and there

were round heavy footmarks in the

sand. He was in disgrace; Flopsy

wrung her ears, and slapped him.



Benjamin Bunny set off at once

after Tommy Brock.



There was not much difficulty in

tracking him; he had left his footmark

and gone slowly up the winding

footpath through the wood.

Here he had rooted up the moss

and wood sorrel. There he had dug

quite a deep hole for dog darnel;

and had set a mole trap. A little

stream crossed the way. Benjamin

skipped lightly over dry-foot; the

badger's heavy steps showed

plainly in the mud.



The path led to a part of the

thicket where the trees had been

cleared; there were leafy oak

stumps, and a sea of blue hyacinths

--but the smell that made Benjamin

stop was NOT the smell of flowers!



Mr. Tod's stick house was before

him; and, for once, Mr. Tod was at

home. There was not only a foxy

flavor in proof of it--there was

smoke coming out of the broken

pail that served as a chimney.



Benjamin Bunny sat up, staring,

his whiskers twitched. Inside the

stick house somebody dropped a

plate, and said something. Benjamin

stamped his foot, and bolted.



He never stopped till he came to

the other side of the wood. Apparently

Tommy Brock had turned the

same way. Upon the top of the wall

there were again the marks of

badger; and some ravellings of a

sack had caught on a briar.



Benjamin climbed over the wall,

into a meadow. He found another

mole trap newly set; he was still

upon the track of Tommy Brock. It

was getting late in the afternoon.

Other rabbits were coming out to

enjoy the evening air. One of them

in a blue coat, by himself, was busily

hunting for dandelions.--

"Cousin Peter! Peter Rabbit, Peter

Rabbit!" shouted Benjamin Bunny.



The blue coated rabbit sat up

with pricked ears--"Whatever is

the matter, Cousin Benjamin? Is it

a cat? or John Stoat Ferret?"



"No, no, no! He's bagged my

family--Tommy Brock--in a sack

--have you seen him?"



"Tommy Brock? how many,

Cousin Benjamin?"



"Seven, Cousin Peter, and all of

them twins! Did he come this way?

Please tell me quick!"



"Yes, yes; not ten minutes since

.... he said they were CATERPILLARS;

I did think they were kicking rather

hard, for caterpillars."



"Which way? which way has he

gone, Cousin Peter?"



"He had a sack with something

'live in it; I watched him set a mole

trap. Let me use my mind, Cousin

Benjamin; tell me from the beginning,"

Benjamin did so.



"My Uncle Bouncer has displayed

a lamentable want of discretion for

his years;" said Peter reflectively,

"but there are two hopeful

circumstances. Your family is alive and

kicking; and Tommy Brock has had

refreshments. He will probably go

to sleep, and keep them for breakfast."

"Which way?" "Cousin Benjamin,

compose yourself. I know

very well which way. Because Mr.

Tod was at home in the stick house

he has gone to Mr. Tod's other

house, at the top of Bull Banks. I

partly know, because he offered to

leave any message at Sister Cottontail's;

he said he would be passing."

(Cottontail had married a black

rabbit, and gone to live on the hill.)



Peter hid his dandelions, and

accompanied the afflicted parent,

who was all of atwitter. They

crossed several fields and began to

climb the hill; the tracks of Tommy

Brock were plainly to be seen. He

seemed to have put down the sack

every dozen yards, to rest.



"He must be very puffed; we are

close behind him, by the scent.

What a nasty person!" said Peter.



The sunshine was still warm and

slanting on the hill pastures. Half

way up, Cottontail was sitting in

her doorway, with four or five half-

grown little rabbits playing about

her; one black and the others brown.



Cottontail had seen Tommy

Brock passing in the distance.

Asked whether her husband was at

home she replied that Tommy

Brock had rested twice while she

watched him.



He had nodded, and pointed to

the sack, and seemed doubled up

with laughing.--"Come away,



Peter; he will be cooking them;

come quicker!" said Benjamin Bunny.



They climbed up and up;--"He

was at home; I saw his black ears

peeping out of the hole." "They live

too near the rocks to quarrel with

their neighbors. Come on, Cousin Benjamin!"



When they came near the wood

at the top of Bull Banks, they went

cautiously. The trees grew amongst

heaped up rocks; and there,

beneath a crag, Mr. Tod had made

one of his homes. It was at the top

of a steep bank; the rocks and

bushes overhung it. The rabbits

crept up carefully, listening and

peeping.



This house was something between

a cave, a prison, and a tumbledown

pigsty. There was a strong

door, which was shut and locked.



The setting sun made the window

panes glow like red flame; but

the kitchen fire was not alight. It

was neatly laid with dry sticks, as

the rabbits could see, when they

peeped through the window.



Benjamin sighed with relief.



But there were preparations

upon the kitchen table which made

him shudder. There was an immense

empty pie dish of blue willow pattern,

and a large carving knife and fork,

and a chopper.



At the other end of the table was

a partly unfolded tablecloth, a

plate, a tumbler, a knife and fork,

salt cellar, mustard and a chair--

in short, preparations for one

person's supper.



No person was to be seen, and

no young rabbits. The kitchen was

empty and silent; the clock had run

down. Peter and Benjamin flattened

their noses against the window,

and stared into the dusk.



Then they scrambled round the

rocks to the other side of the house.

It was damp and smelly, and over-

grown with thorns and briars.



The rabbits shivered in their shoes.



"Oh my poor rabbit babies!

What a dreadful place; I shall never

see them again!" sighed Benjamin.



They crept up to the bedroom

window. It was closed and bolted

like the kitchen. But there were

signs that this window had been

recently open; the cobwebs were

disturbed, and there were fresh dirty

footmarks upon the windowsill.



The room inside was so dark that

at first they could make out nothing;

but they could hear a noise--a

slow deep regular snoring grunt.

And as their eyes became accustomed

to the darkness, they perceived

that somebody was asleep

on Mr. Tod's bed, curled up under

the blanket.--"He has gone to bed

in his boots," whispered Peter.



Benjamin, who was all of atwitter,

pulled Peter off the windowsill.





Tommy Brock's snores continued,

grunty and regular from Mr. Tod's bed.

Nothing could be seen of the young family.



The sun had set; an owl began to

hoot in the wood. There were many

unpleasant things lying about that

had much better have been buried;

rabbit bones and skulls, and chickens'

legs and other horrors. It was

a shocking place, and very dark.



They went back to the front of

the house, and tried in every way to

move the bolt of the kitchen window.

They tried to push up a rusty

nail between the window sashes;

but it was of no use, especially

without a light.



They sat side by side outside the

window, whispering and listening.



In half an hour the moon rose

over the wood. It shone full and

clear and cold, upon the house,

amongst the rocks, and in at the

kitchen window. But alas, no little

rabbit babies were to be seen! The

moonbeams twinkled on the carving

knife and the pie dish, and

made a path of brightness across

the dirty floor.



The light showed a little door in

a wall beside the kitchen fireplace

--a little iron door belonging to a

brick oven of that old-fashioned

sort that used to be heated with

faggots of wood.



And presently at the same moment

Peter and Benjamin noticed

that whenever they shook the window

the little door opposite shook

in answer. The young family were

alive; shut up in the oven!



Benjamin was so excited that it

was a mercy he did not awake

Tommy Brock, whose snores continued

solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.



But there really was not very

much comfort in the discovery.

They could not open the window;

and although the young family was

alive the little rabbits were quite in-

capable of letting themselves out;

they were not old enough to crawl.



After much whispering, Peter

and Benjamin decided to dig a tunnel.

They began to burrow a yard

or two lower down the bank. They

hoped that they might be able to

work between the large stones

under the house; the kitchen floor

was so dirty that it was impossible

to say whether it was made of earth

or flags.



They dug and dug for hours.

They could not tunnel straight on

account of stones; but by the end of

the night they were under the

kitchen floor. Benjamin was on his

back scratching upwards. Peter's

claws were worn down; he was

outside the tunnel, shuffling sand

away. He called out that it was

morning--sunrise; and that the

jays were making a noise down

below in the woods.



Benjamin Bunny came out of the

dark tunnel shaking the sand from

his ears; he cleaned his face with

his paws. Every minute the sun

shone warmer on the top of the

hill. In the valley there was a sea of

white mist, with golden tops of

trees showing through.



Again from the fields down

below in the mist there came the

angry cry of a jay, followed by the

sharp yelping bark of a fox!



Then those two rabbits lost their

heads completely. They did the

most foolish thing that they could

have done. They rushed into their

short new tunnel, and hid themselves

at the top end of it, under

Mr. Tod's kitchen floor.



Mr. Tod was coming up Bull

Banks, and he was in the very worst

of tempers. First he had been upset

by breaking the plate. It was his

own fault; but it was a china plate,



the last of the dinner service that

had belonged to his grandmother,

old Vixen Tod. Then the midges

had been very bad. And he had

failed to catch a hen pheasant on

her nest; and it had contained only

five eggs, two of them addled. Mr.

Tod had had an unsatisfactory night.



As usual, when out of humor, he

determined to move house. First he

tried the pollard willow, but it was

damp; and the otters had left a

dead fish near it. Mr. Tod likes

nobody's leavings but his own.



He made his way up the hill; his

temper was not improved by noticing

unmistakable marks of badger.

No one else grubs up the moss so

wantonly as Tommy Brock.



Mr. Tod slapped his stick upon

the earth and fumed; he guessed

where Tommy Brock had gone to.

He was further annoyed by the jay

bird which followed him persistently.

It flew from tree to tree and

scolded, warning every rabbit

within hearing that either a cat or

a fox was coming up the plantation.

Once when it flew screaming

over his head Mr. Tod snapped at

it, and barked.



He approached his house very

carefully, with a large rusty key. He

sniffed and his whiskers bristled.



The house was locked up, but Mr.

Tod had his doubts whether it was

empty. He turned the rusty key in

the lock; the rabbits below could

hear it. Mr. Tod opened the door

cautiously and went in.



The sight that met Mr. Tod's eyes

in Mr. Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod

furious. There was Mr. Tod's chair,

and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his

knife and fork and mustard and

salt cellar, and his tablecloth, that

he had left folded up in the dresser

--all set out for supper (or breakfast)

--without doubt for that odious Tommy Brock.



There was a smell of fresh earth

and dirty badger, which fortunately

overpowered all smell of rabbit.



But what absorbed Mr. Tod's

attention was a noise, a deep slow

regular snoring grunting noise,

coming from his own bed.



He peeped through the hinges of

the half-open bedroom door. Then

he turned and came out of the

house in a hurry. His whiskers bristled

and his coat collar stood on end with rage.



For the next twenty minutes Mr.

Tod kept creeping cautiously into

the house, and retreating hurriedly

out again. By degrees he ventured

further in--right into the bed-

room. When he was outside the

house, he scratched up the earth

with fury. But when he was inside

--he did not like the look of

Tommy Brock's teeth.



He was lying on his back with his

mouth open, grinning from ear to

ear. He snored peacefully and

regularly; but one eye was not

perfectly shut.



Mr. Tod came in and out of the

bedroom. Twice he brought in his

walking stick, and once he brought

in the coal scuttle. But he thought

better of it, and took them away.



When he came back after removing

the coal scuttle, Tommy Brock

was lying a little more sideways;

but he seemed even sounder asleep.

He was an incurably indolent person;

he was not in the least afraid

of Mr. Tod; he was simply too lazy

and comfortable to move.



Mr. Tod came back yet again

into the bedroom with a clothes

line. He stood a minute watching

Tommy Brock and listening attentively

to the snores. They were very

loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.



Mr. Tod turned his back towards

the bed, and undid the window. It

creaked; he turned round with a

jump. Tommy Brock, who had

opened one eye--shut it hastily.

The snores continued.



Mr. Tod's proceedings were

peculiar, and rather difficult (because

the bed was between the window

and the door of the bedroom). He

opened the window a little way,

and pushed out the greater part of

the clothes line on to the window-

sill. The rest of the line, with a hook

at the end, remained in his hand.



Tommy Brock snored conscientiously.

Mr. Tod stood and looked at him

for a minute; then he left the room again.



Tommy Brock opened both eyes,

and looked at the rope and grinned.

There was a noise outside the window.

Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.



Mr. Tod had gone out at the

front door, and round to the back

of the house. On the way, he stumbled

over the rabbit burrow. If he

had had any idea who was inside it

he would have pulled them out quickly.



His foot went through the tunnel

nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit

and Benjamin; but, fortunately, he

thought that it was some more of

Tommy Brock's work.



He took up the coil of line from

the sill, listened for a moment, and

then tied the rope to a tree.



Tommy Brock watched him with

one eye, through the window. He

was puzzled.



Mr. Tod fetched a large heavy

pailful of water from the spring,

and staggered with it through the

kitchen into his bedroom.



Tommy Brock snored industriously,

with rather a snort.



Mr. Tod put down the pail beside

the bed, took up the end of rope

with the hook--hesitated, and

looked at Tommy Brock. The

snores were almost apoplectic; but

the grin was not quite so big.



Mr. Tod gingerly mounted a

chair by the head of the bedstead.

His legs were dangerously near to

Tommy Brock's teeth.



He reached up and put the end

of rope, with the hook, over the

head of the tester bed, where the

curtains ought to hang.



(Mr. Tod's curtains were folded

up, and put away, owing to the

house being unoccupied. So was

the counterpane. Tommy Brock

was covered with a blanket only.)

Mr. Tod standing on the unsteady

chair looked down upon him attentively;

he really was a first prize sound sleeper!



It seemed as though nothing

would waken him--not even the

flapping rope across the bed.



Mr. Tod descended safely from

the chair, and endeavored to get up

again with the pail of water. He

intended to hang it from the hook,

dangling over the head of Tommy

Brock, in order to make a sort of

shower-bath, worked by a string,

through the window.



But, naturally, being a thin-

legged person (though vindictive

and sandy whiskered)--he was

quite unable to lift the heavy

weight to the level of the hook and

rope. He very nearly overbalanced

himself.



The snores became more and

more apoplectic. One of Tommy

Brock's hind legs twitched under

the blanket, but still he slept on

peacefully.



Mr. Tod and the pail descended

from the chair without accident.

After considerable thought, he

emptied the water into a wash

basin and jug. The empty pail was

not too heavy for him; he slung it

up wobbling over the head of

Tommy Brock.



Surely there never was such a

sleeper! Mr. Tod got up and down,

down and up on the chair.



As he could not lift the whole

pailful of water at once he fetched

a milk jug and ladled quarts of

water into the pail by degrees. The

pail got fuller and fuller, and

swung like a pendulum. Occasionally

a drop splashed over; but still

Tommy Brock snored regularly and

never moved,--except in one eye.




At last Mr. Tod's preparations

were complete. The pail was full of

water; the rope was tightly strained

over the top of the bed, and across

the windowsill to the tree outside.



"It will make a great mess in my

bedroom; but I could never sleep in

that bed again without a spring

cleaning of some sort," said Mr. Tod.





Mr. Tod took a last look at the

badger and softly left the room. He

went out of the house, shutting the

front door. The rabbits heard his

footsteps over the tunnel.



He ran round behind the house,

intending to undo the rope in order

to let fall the pailful of water upon

Tommy Brock--



"I will wake him up with an

unpleasant surprise," said Mr. Tod.



The moment he had gone,

Tommy Brock got up in a hurry; he

rolled Mr. Tod's dressing-gown into

a bundle, put it into the bed beneath

the pail of water instead of

himself, and left the room also--

grinning immensely.



He went into the kitchen, lighted

the fire and boiled the kettle; for

the moment he did not trouble

himself to cook the baby rabbits.





When Mr. Tod got to the tree, he

found that the weight and strain

had dragged the knot so tight that

it was past untying. He was obliged

to gnaw it with his teeth. He

chewed and gnawed for more than

twenty minutes. At last the rope

gave way with such a sudden jerk

that it nearly pulled his teeth out,

and quite knocked him over backwards.



Inside the house there was a

great crash and splash, and the

noise of a pail rolling over and over.



But no screams. Mr. Tod was

mystified; he sat quite still, and

listened attentively. Then he peeped

in at the window. The water was

dripping from the bed, the pail had

rolled into a corner.



In the middle of the bed, under

the blanket, was a wet SOMETHING

--much flattened in the middle,

where the pail had caught it (as it

were across the tummy). Its head

was covered by the wet blanket,

and it was NOT SNORING ANY LONGER.



There was nothing stirring, and

no sound except the drip, drop,

drop, drip, of water trickling from

the mattress.





Mr. Tod watched it for half an

hour; his eyes glistened.



Then he cut a caper, and became

so bold that he even tapped at the

window; but the bundle never moved.



Yes--there was no doubt about

it--it had turned out even better

than he had planned; the pail had

hit poor old Tommy Brock, and

killed him dead!



"I will bury that nasty person in

the hole which he has dug. I will

bring my bedding out, and dry it in

the sun," said Mr. Tod.



"I will wash the tablecloth and

spread it on the grass in the sun to

bleach. And the blanket must be

hung up in the wind; and the bed

must be thoroughly disinfected,

and aired with a warming-pan;

and warmed with a hot water bottle."



"I will get soft soap, and monkey

soap, and all sorts of soap; and

soda and scrubbing brushes; and

persian powder; and carbolic to

remove the smell. I must have a

disinfecting. Perhaps I may have to

burn sulphur."



He hurried round the house to

get a shovel from the kitchen--

"First I will arrange the hole--then

I will drag out that person in the

blanket. . . ."



He opened the door. . . .



Tommy Brock was sitting at Mr.

Tod's kitchen table, pouring out tea

from Mr. Tod's teapot into Mr.

Tod's teacup. He was quite dry

himself and grinning; and he threw

the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.



Then Mr. Tod rushed upon

Tommy Brock, and Tommy Brock

grappled with Mr. Tod amongst

the broken crockery, and there

was a terrific battle all over the

kitchen. To the rabbits underneath

it sounded as if the floor would give

way at each crash of falling furniture.



They crept out of their tunnel,

and hung about amongst the rocks

and bushes, listening anxiously.



Inside the house the racket was

fearful. The rabbit babies in the

oven woke up trembling; perhaps it

was fortunate they were shut up inside.



Everything was upset except the

kitchen table.



And everything was broken,

except the mantelpiece and the

kitchen fender. The crockery was

smashed to atoms.



The chairs were broken, and the

window, and the clock fell with a

crash, and there were handfuls of

Mr. Tod's sandy whiskers.



The vases fell off the mantelpiece,

the cannisters fell off the

shelf; the kettle fell off the hob.

Tommy Brock put his foot in a jar

of raspberry jam.





And the boiling water out of the

kettle fell upon the tail of Mr. Tod.



When the kettle fell, Tommy

Brock, who was still grinning,

happened to be uppermost; and he

rolled Mr. Tod over and over like a

log, out at the door.



Then the snarling and worrying

went on outside; and they rolled

over the bank, and down hill,

bumping over the rocks. There will

never be any love lost between

Tommy Brock and Mr. Tod.



As soon as the coast was clear,

Peter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny

came out of the bushes.



"Now for it! Run in, Cousin

Benjamin! Run in and get them! while

I watch the door."



But Benjamin was frightened--



"Oh; oh! they are coming back!"



"No they are not."



"Yes they are!"



"What dreadful bad language! I

think they have fallen down the

stone quarry."



Still Benjamin hesitated, and

Peter kept pushing him--



"Be quick, it's all right. Shut the

oven door, Cousin Benjamin, so

that he won't miss them."



Decidedly there were lively

doings in Mr. Tod's kitchen!



At home in the rabbit hole,

things had not been quite comfortable.



After quarreling at supper,

Flopsy and old Mr. Bouncer had

passed a sleepless night, and

quarrelled again at breakfast. Old Mr.

Bouncer could no longer deny that

he had invited company into the

rabbit hole; but he refused to reply

to the questions and reproaches of

Flopsy. The day passed heavily.



Old Mr. Bouncer, very sulky, was

huddled up in a corner, barricaded

with a chair. Flopsy had taken



away his pipe and hidden the tobacco.

She had been having a complete

turn out and spring cleaning,

to relieve her feelings. She had just

finished. Old Mr. Bouncer, behind

his chair, was wondering anxiously

what she would do next.



In Mr. Tod's kitchen, amidst the

wreckage, Benjamin Bunny picked

his way to the oven nervously,

through a thick cloud of dust. He

opened the oven door, felt inside,

and found something warm and

wriggling. He lifted it out carefully,

and rejoined Peter Rabbit.



"I've got them! Can we get away?

Shall we hide, Cousin Peter?"



Peter pricked his ears; distant

sounds of fighting still echoed in

the wood.



Five minutes afterwards two

breathless rabbits came scuttering

away down Bull Banks, half carrying,

half dragging a sack between

them, bumpetty bump over the

grass. They reached home safely,

and burst into the rabbit hole.



Great was old Mr. Bouncer's relief

and Flopsy's joy when Peter and

Benjamin arrived in triumph with

the young family. The rabbit babies

were rather tumbled and very hungry;

they were fed and put to bed.

They soon recovered.



A new long pipe and a fresh supply

of rabbit tobacco was presented

to Mr. Bouncer. He was rather

upon his dignity; but he accepted.



Old Mr. Bouncer was forgiven,

and they all had dinner. Then Peter

and Benjamin told their story--but

they had not waited long enough to

be able to tell the end of the battle

between Tommy Brock and Mr. Tod.

****

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