Tod of poaching them. And the otters had cleared off all the frogs while he was asleep
in winter — “I have not had a good square meal for a fortnight, I am living on pig-nuts. I shall have to
turn vegetarian and eat my own tail!” said Tommy Brock.
It was not much of a joke, but it tickled old Mr. Bouncer; because Tommy Brock was so
fat and stumpy and grinning.
So old Mr. Bouncer laughed; and pressed Tommy Brock to come inside, to taste a slice
of seed-cake and “a glass of my daughter Flopsy’s cowslip wine”. Tommy Brock squeezed himself into the
rabbit-hole with alacrity.
Then old Mr. Bouncer smoked another pipe, and gave Tommy Brock a cabbage leaf cigar
which was so very strong that it made Tommy Brock grin more than ever; and the smoke filled the burrow. Old
Mr. Bouncer coughed and laughed; and Tommy Brock puffed and grinned.
And Mr. Bouncer laughed and coughed, and shut his eyes because of the cabbage
smoke…
When Flopsy and Benjamin came back — old Mr. Bouncer woke up. Tommy Brock and all the
young rabbit babies had disappeared!
Mr. Bouncer would not confess that he had admitted anybody into the rabbit-hole. But
the smell of badger was undeniable; and there were round heavy footmarks in the sand. He was in disgrace;
Flopsy wrung her ears, and slapped him.
Benjamin Bunny set off at once after Tommy Brock.
There was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his footmark and gone
slowly up the winding footpath through the wood. Here he had rooted up the moss and wood sorrel. There he
had dug quite a deep hole for dog darnel; and had set a mole trap. A little stream crossed the way. Benjamin
skipped lightly over dry-foot; the badger’s heavy steps showed plainly in the mud.
The path led to a part of the thicket where the trees had been cleared; there were
leafy oak stumps, and a sea of blue hyacinths — but the smell that made Benjamin stop, was not the smell of
flowers!
Mr. Tod’s stick house was before him; and, for once, Mr. Tod was at home. There was
not only a foxy flavour in proof of it — there was smoke coming out of the broken pail that served as a
chimney.
Benjamin Bunny sat up, staring; his whiskers twitched. Inside the stick house somebody
dropped a plate, and said something. Benjamin stamped his foot, and bolted.
He never stopped till he came to the other side of the wood. Apparently Tommy Brock
had turned the same way. Upon the top of the wall, there were again the marks of badger; and some ravellings
of a sack had caught on a briar.
Benjamin climbed over the wall, into a meadow. He found another mole trap newly set;
he was still upon the track of Tommy Brock. It was getting late in the afternoon. Other rabbits were coming
out to enjoy the evening air. One of them in a blue coat by himself, was busily hunting for dandelions —
“Cousin Peter! Peter Rabbit, Peter Rabbit!” shouted Benjamin Bunny.
The blue-coated rabbit sat up with pricked ears —
“Whatever is the matter, Cousin Benjamin? Is it a cat? or John Stoat Ferret?”
“No, no, no! He’s bagged my family — Tommy Brock — in a sack — have you seen
him?”
“Tommy Brock? How many, Cousin Benjamin?”
“Seven, Cousin Peter, and all of them twins! Did he come this way? Please tell me
quick!”
“Yes, yes; not ten minutes since… he said they were caterpillars; I did think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.”
“Which way? which way has he gone, Cousin Peter?”
“He had a sack with something ’live in it; I watched him set a mole trap.
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