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"Now it seems that we are getting to business," said Jeffrey Stokes, as, lying his hand upon the knife at his girdle, he slipped between the monk and the door. "That's it, Jeffrey," cried Sir John. "Stop the rat's hole. Look you, Spaniard, I have a sword.
The scurrying of many little feet among the household implements told that the grey rat's friends were numerous though unseen, and the angry grunting of pigs proved that other slumbers had been broken. Of course the whole party were thoroughly awakened by this incident, but they took it good-humouredly, and, after replenishing the fire, lay down again, and resolutely shut their eyes and ears.
Frightened beyond measure, the weasel hastened back to the rat's hole, but could not get in because of the stone. Not knowing what to do, he ran round the cart-house, where there was some grass under the wall, with the man coming close behind him. Now it was just there that the bailiff had set the gin for the rat, near the mouth of the drain, but the rat knew all about it, and used the other hole.
When Shan More and the rest of the "big blackguards" began to wake, the morning after the abduction, and gave a turn or two under their heather coverlid, and rubbed their eyes as the sun peeped through the "curtains of the east" for these were the only bed-curtains Shan More and his companions ever had they stretched themselves and yawned, and felt very thirsty, for they had all been blind drunk the night before, be it remembered; and Shan More, to use his own expressive and poetic imagery, swore that his tongue was "as rough as a rat's back," while his companions went no further than saying theirs were as "dry as a lime-burner's wig."
I had my finger on the trigger of the revolver, and as I jumped it went off, right through the door. Some one outside swore roundly, and for the first time I could hear what was said. "Only a scratch. . . . Men are at the other end of the house. . . . Have the whole rat's nest on us." And a lot of profanity which I won't write down.
By this time I was again hungry, and very soon had the rat's flesh between my teeth. To those who have not suffered as I had, my proceeding must appear very disgusting, but I would only advise any fellow who thinks so to try what he would do after going without food for three or four days. I certainly, during that time, had had nothing but two buns and unlimited draught of cold water.
And yet, stare as one would upon the absolutely bare grass, dotted only here and there with a stone, or a rat's skull, or a daisy all looking alike in their whiteness from a distance not a living, breathing thing was to be seen. And yet there was a living, breathing thing there. Indeed, there were several.
For instance, one's natural hair with its vagaries of rat's tails, duck's tails, errant curls, and baldness, gave place to an orderly wig, or was at least decently powdered. The hoop remedied the deficiencies of the feminine form, and the gardener clipped his yews into respectability.
"They have seen it now," said Marco, in a low voice from his bed. Then there was a long silence, though it was not quite silence because The Rat's breathing was so quick and hard. "He must have been at that coronation!" he said at last. "The King what will the King do to repay him?" Marco did not answer. His breathing could be heard also.
So he seized some bottles of soy from the kitchen shelf and then jumped into the big bottom drawer of a ladies' cabinet, and pulled it shut. "Who has been here? It looks like a rat's picnic." However, the workmen soon came and set everything to rights. Then they packed up the pretty things.
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