Late in the evening, tired and happy and miles from home, they drew up
on a remote common far from habitations, turned the horse loose to
graze, and ate their simple supper sitting on the grass by the side of
the cart. Toad talked big about all he was going to do in the days to
come, while stars grew fuller and larger all around them, and a yellow
moon, appearing suddenly and silently from nowhere in particular, came
to keep them company and listen to their talk. At last they turned in
to their little bunks in the cart; and Toad, kicking out his legs,
sleepily said, 'Well, good night, you fellows! This is the real life
for a gentleman! Talk about your old river!'

'I DON'T talk about my river,' replied the patient Rat. 'You KNOW I
don't, Toad. But I THINK about it,' he added pathetically, in a lower
tone: 'I think about it--all the time!'

The Mole reached out from under his blanket, felt for the Rat's paw in
the darkness, and gave it a squeeze. 'I'll do whatever you like,
Ratty,' he whispered. 'Shall we run away to-morrow morning, quite
early--VERY early--and go back to our dear old hole on the river?'

'No, no, we'll see it out,' whispered back the Rat. 'Thanks awfully,
but I ought to stick by Toad till this trip is ended. It wouldn't be
safe for him to be left to himself. It won't take very long. His
fads never do. Good night!'

The end was indeed nearer than even the Rat suspected.

After so much open air and excitement the Toad slept very soundly, and
no amount of shaking could rouse him out of bed next morning. So the