is father's friends, who had played with him so often in past
days. In a moment, however, his face grew blank, and he fell to hunting
round in a circle with pleading whine. As a child that has fallen
happily asleep in its nurse's arms, and wakes to find itself alone and
laid in a strange place, and searches corners and cupboards, and runs
from room to room, despair growing silently in its heart, even so Portly
searched the island and searched, dogged and unwearying, till at last
the black moment came for giving it up, and sitting down and crying
bitterly.

The Mole ran quickly to comfort the little animal; but Rat, lingering,
looked long and doubtfully at certain hoof-marks deep in the sward.

'Some--great--animal--has been here,' he murmured slowly and
thoughtfully; and stood musing, musing; his mind strangely stirred.

'Come along, Rat!' called the Mole. 'Think of poor Otter, waiting up
there by the ford!'

Portly had soon been comforted by the promise of a treat--a jaunt on the
river in Mr. Rat's real boat; and the two animals conducted him to the
water's side, placed him securely between them in the bottom of the
boat, and paddled off down the backwater. The sun was fully up by now,
and hot on them, birds sang lustily and without restraint, and flowers
smiled and nodded from either bank, but somehow--so thought the
animals--with less of richness and blaze of colour than they seemed to
remember seeing quite recently somewhere--they wondered where.

The main river reached again, they turned the boat's head upstream,
towards the point where they knew their friend was keeping his lonely
vigil. As they drew near the familiar ford, the Mole took the boat in
to the bank, and they lifted Portly out and set him on his legs on the
tow-path, gave him his marching orders and a friendly farewell pat on
the back, and shoved out into mid-stream. They watched the little animal
as he waddled along the path contentedly and with importance; watched
him till they saw his muzzle suddenly lift and his waddle break into a
clumsy amble as he quickened his pace with shrill whines and wriggles of
recognition. Looking up the river, they could see Otter start up, tense
and rigid, from out of the shallows where he crouched in dumb patience,
and could hear his amazed and joyous bark as he bounded up through the
osiers on to the path. Then the Mole, with a strong pull on one oar,
swung the boat round and let the full stream bear them down aga