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Updated: June 18, 2025
"But perhaps the rat-catcher or the new cat has caught her?" "No," said the house-mouse. "She escaped; and so did most of her children. And they have multiplied in such a way that you simply can't turn for rats, Jens says." "Then, you'll see, they will forget you all right," said the wood-mouse, "if only you are careful and discreet." "Jens will forget me, perhaps," said the house-mouse, sadly.
Presently, beside me came creeping the lithe Mohican, and lay down prone, smooth and golden, and shining like a sleek panther in the sun. "Is all well guarded, brother?" I whispered. "Not even a wood-mouse could creep from the swamp unless our warriors see it." "And when dark comes?"
But they do so for this reason, that they behave themselves in such a way that we have to suffer for it. And, as far as relationship is concerned, they are your relations as well as mine." "But who are they, cousin?" asked the house-mouse. "Tell me, quickly. I have no notion of whom you're thinking." "I'm thinking of the field-mouse," said the wood-mouse, with a deep sigh.
He learned the sweets of a bee-tree, and how a bear must go to work to attain them. Moving through the shadows more quietly, he now had glimpses of rabbits and chipmunks, and even caught sight of a wood-mouse whisking into his hole under a root.
"Sleep and being very small indeed, and never coming out except after sundown, and having great big eyes, so that you can see things like stoats long before they see you. Offence I know nothing of, unless it's eating beetles." After him the wood-mouse. "Give me a good burrow underground," said he.
To judge by what I have heard them talk about since, the young mistress stood up for me as long as she could, but the forester and his man both said that, with mice and rats, it was six of one and half-a-dozen of the other." "Yes, that's the worst of it," said the wood-mouse. "It's just as with me and the field-mouse. We have to suffer for our relations' misdeeds.
"I believe she was afraid of you, which surprises me, for you look so good and kind." "Thank you," said the brown rat. "I always appreciate a friendly word. I'm as hungry as the dickens. Have you something or other you can treat me to? I don't care what: I eat anything." "Very sorry," said the wood-mouse.
"She was particularly friendly when we had the packing-case: indeed, she even asked me down to see her rooms. But she warned me not to come over there otherwise. She said that I might run the risk of her eating me. She and some other brown rats once ate a kitten, she said. And I could see by the look on her face that it was true." "Oh dear, oh dear!" said the wood-mouse.
He encountered a second beetle, and killed it. He killed his first wood-mouse. Swiftly there were developing in him the instincts of Soominitik, his scrap-loving old father, who lived three or four valleys to the north of their own, and who never missed an opportunity to get into a fight.
The harvest mouse sat on the top of a cornstalk and nibbled his supper. His first summer had been most successful. So much had been crowded into it that he could only dimly remember the oat-stack in which he was born. Even the hedgerow seemed difficult to recall. He had lived in that two months, next door to the wood-mouse, and from him he may have learnt something of the art of nest-building.
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