in, and pockets to put it in, I will send the engine-driver enough
to pay for quite a quantity of washing, and that will be the same
thing, or better."

The guard waved his welcome flag, the engine-driver whistled in
cheerful response, and the train moved out of the station. As the
speed increased, and the Toad could see on either side of him real
fields, and trees, and hedges, and cows, and horses, all flying past
him, and as he thought how every minute was bringing him nearer to
Toad Hall, and sympathetic friends, and money to chink in his pocket,
and a soft bed to sleep in, and good things to eat, and praise and
admiration at the recital of his adventures and his surpassing
cleverness, he began to skip up and down and shout and sing snatches
of song, to the great astonishment of the engine-driver, who had come
across washerwomen before, at long intervals, but never one at all
like this.

They had covered many and many a mile, and Toad was already considering
what he would have for supper as soon as he got home, when he noticed
that the engine-driver, with a puzzled expression on his face, was
leaning over the side of the engine and listening hard. Then he saw him
climb on to the coals and gaze out over the top of the train; then he
returned and said to Toad: "It's very strange; we're the last train
running in this direction to-night, yet I could be sworn that I heard
another following us!"

Toad ceased his frivolous antics at once. He became grave and depressed,
and a dull pain in the lower part of his spine, communicating itself to
his legs, made him want to sit down and try desperately not to think of
all the possibilities.

By this time the moon was shining brightly, and the engine-driver,
steadying himself on the coal, could command a view of the line behind
them for a long distance.

Presently he called out, "I can see it clearly now! It is an engine,
on our rails, coming along at a great pace! It looks as if we were
being pursued!"

The miserable Toad, crouching in the coal-dust, tried hard to think of
something to do, with dismal want of success.

"They are gaining on us fast!" cried the engine-driver. "And the
engine is crowded with the queerest lot of people! Men like ancient
warders, waving halberds; policemen in their helmets, waving
truncheons; and shabbily dressed men in pot-hats, obvious and
unmistakable plain-clothes detectives even at this distance, waving
revolvers and walking-sticks; all w