ly, for bounding
away towards the door-way, she said to her son, "Come along, my boy! my
nose tells me that they are nothing but little miserable harvest-mice.
Let us try if we cannot meet with some of the great fat field-mice in
the wheat-field, they are six times as large as these little wretches.
For my part I am not at all hungry, but 'tis glorious fun hunting them
to death."

But there was another animal close at hand, who was also very fond of
hunting, and for the same reason; because he thought it was "_glorious
fun_." This was the little terrier dog "Pepper," whose master, Farmer
Winter, had come into the meadow that morning, to see how his sheep
were getting on. Now it so happened that "Pep" took it into his random
head to visit the stable, and he entered exactly as Mistress and Master
W. were going out. Of course our situation prevented us from witnessing
this interesting meeting, but we heard a scuffle, and two loud squeaks,
which our protector, who saw the whole affair from the mouth of his
den, informed us were the last sounds ever uttered by the long-backed
mother and son. But though Pepper had kindly shaken our enemies to
death, we did not like to trust ourselves in his power, thinking that
he would most likely serve us in the same manner; so we remained
quietly in the hole, till our kind friend had seen that the coast was
clear, and then, having thanked him for his protection, we ran home as
fast as possible.

We passed by the dead bodies of the weasels, and found that they were
much handsomer animals than we had supposed, for though their backs
were ridiculously long, their colours were very pretty; a beautiful
reddish brown on the upper parts, but underneath they were as white as
snow, or as your frock, my dear mistress. The hermit informed us
afterwards, that they are the boldest animals for their size in the
world, and that they will sometimes kill even young rabbits and hares.
He said, that when a weasel attacks an animal so much larger than
himself, he sticks fast to his neck, and though the poor creature runs
away, he cannot get rid of his tormentor, but is soon exhausted and
killed. Toady said, he once saw a weasel seized by a kite, and carried
up into the air. After a little while, however, the bird began to fly
very oddly, as if in pain, and at last fell down quite dead, close to
the spot where the hermit was sitting. While he was in the air the
weasel had killed the kite by gnawing a great h