looks.'

The Mole was quiet for a minute or two. But he began to feel more and
more jealous of Rat, sculling so strongly and so easily along, and his
pride began to whisper that he could do it every bit as well. He
jumped up and seized the sculls, so suddenly, that the Rat, who was
gazing out over the water and saying more poetry-things to himself,
was taken by surprise and fell backwards off his seat with his legs in
the air for the second time, while the triumphant Mole took his place
and grabbed the sculls with entire confidence.

'Stop it, you SILLY ass!' cried the Rat, from the bottom of the boat.
'You can't do it! You'll have us over!'

The Mole flung his sculls back with a flourish, and made a great dig
at the water. He missed the surface altogether, his legs flew up
above his head, and he found himself lying on the top of the prostrate
Rat. Greatly alarmed, he made a grab at the side of the boat, and the
next moment--Sploosh!

Over went the boat, and he found himself struggling in the river.

O my, how cold the water was, and O, how VERY wet it felt. How it sang
in his ears as he went down, down, down! How bright and welcome the
sun looked as he rose to the surface coughing and spluttering! How
black was his despair when he felt himself sinking again! Then a firm
paw gripped him by the back of his neck. It was the Rat, and he was
evidently laughing--the Mole could FEEL him laughing, right down his
arm and through his paw, and so into his--the Mole's--neck.