they saw a small cloud of dust, with a dark centre of energy,
advancing on them at incredible speed, while from out the dust a faint
'Poop-poop!' wailed like an uneasy animal in pain. Hardly regarding
it, they turned to resume their conversation, when in an instant (as
it seemed) the peaceful scene was changed, and with a blast of wind
and a whirl of sound that made them jump for the nearest ditch, It was
on them! The 'Poop-poop' rang with a brazen shout in their ears, they
had a moment's glimpse of an interior of glittering plate-glass and
rich morocco, and the magnificent motor-car, immense,
breath-snatching, passionate, with its pilot tense and hugging his
wheel, possessed all earth and air for the fraction of a second, flung
an enveloping cloud of dust that blinded and enwrapped them utterly,
and then dwindled to a speck in the far distance, changed back into a
droning bee once more.

The old grey horse, dreaming, as he plodded along, of his quiet
paddock, in a new raw situation such as this simply abandoned himself
to his natural emotions. Rearing, plunging, backing steadily, in
spite of all the Mole's efforts at his head, and all the Mole's lively
language directed at his better feelings, he drove the cart backwards
towards the deep ditch at the side of the road. It wavered an
instant--then there was a heartrending crash--and the canary-coloured
cart, their pride and their joy, lay on its side in the ditch, an
irredeemable wreck.

The Rat danced up and down in the road, simply transported with
passion. 'You villains!' he shouted, shaking both fists, 'You
scoundrels, you highwaymen, you--you--roadhogs!--I'll have the law of
you! I'll report you! I'll take you through all the Courts!' His
home-sickness had quite slipped away from him, and for the moment he