always stops to sniff at everything he passes, he had been some
distance behind. When he came to the pile of brush under which
Peter was hiding he had sniffed at that, and of course he had
smelled Peter right away.

Now when Peter jumped out so suddenly, he had landed right at one
end of the dam. The second roar of Bowser's great voice
frightened him still more, and he jumped right up on the dam.
There was nothing for him to do now but go across, and it wasn't
the best of going. No, indeed, it wasn't the best of going. You
see, it was mostly a tangle of sticks. Happy Jack Squirrel or
Chatterer the Red Squirrel or Striped Chipmunk would have skipped
across it without the least trouble. But Peter Rabbit has no
sharp little claws with which to cling to logs and sticks, and
right away he was in a peck of trouble. He slipped down between
the sticks, scrambled out, slipped again, and then, trying to
make a long jump, he lost his balance and--tumbled heels over
head into the water.

Poor Peter Rabbit! He gave himself up for lost this time. He
could swim, but at best he is a poor swimmer and doesn't like the
water. He couldn't dive and keep out of sight like Jerry Muskrat
or Billy Mink. All he could do was to paddle as fast as his legs
would go. The water had gone up his nose and down his throat so
that he choked, and all the time he felt sure that Bowser the
Hound would plunge in after him and catch him. And if he
shouldn't why Farmer Brown's boy would simply wait for him to
come ashore and then catch him.

But Farmer Brown's boy didn't do anything of the kind. No, Sir,