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It
did
indeed
.
The
Mole
would
not
have
known
that
it
was
the
same
wood
.
However
,
they
set
out
bravely
,
and
took
the
line
that
seemed
most
promising
,
holding
on
to
each
other
and
pretending
with
invincible
cheerfulness
that
they
recognised
an
old
friend
in
every
fresh
tree
that
grimly
and
silently
greeted
them
,
or
saw
openings
,
gaps
,
or
paths
with
a
familiar
turn
in
them
,
in
the
monotony
of
white
space
and
black
tree-trunks
that
refused
to
vary
.
An
hour
or
two
later
--
they
had
lost
all
count
of
time
--
they
pulled
up
,
dispirited
,
weary
,
and
hopelessly
at
sea
,
and
sat
down
on
a
fallen
tree-trunk
to
recover
their
breath
and
consider
what
was
to
be
done
.
They
were
aching
with
fatigue
and
bruised
with
tumbles
;
they
had
fallen
into
several
holes
and
got
wet
through
;
the
snow
was
getting
so
deep
that
they
could
hardly
drag
their
little
legs
through
it
,
and
the
trees
were
thicker
and
more
like
each
other
than
ever
.
There
seemed
to
be
no
end
to
this
wood
,
and
no
beginning
,
and
no
difference
in
it
,
and
,
worst
of
all
,
no
way
out
.
"
We
ca
n't
sit
here
very
long
,
"
said
the
Rat
.
"
We
shall
have
to
make
another
push
for
it
,
and
do
something
or
other
.
The
cold
is
too
awful
for
anything
,
and
the
snow
will
soon
be
too
deep
for
us
to
wade
through
.
"
He
peered
about
him
and
considered
.
"
Look
here
,
"
he
went
on
,
"
this
is
what
occurs
to
me
.
There
's
a
sort
of
dell
down
here
in
front
of
us
,
where
the
ground
seems
all
hilly
and
humpy
and
hummocky
.
We
'll
make
our
way
down
into
that
,
and
try
and
find
some
sort
of
shelter
,
a
cave
or
hole
with
a
dry
floor
to
it
,
out
of
the
snow
and
the
wind
,
and
there
we
'll
have
a
good
rest
before
we
try
again
,
for
we
're
both
of
us
pretty
dead
beat
.
Besides
,
the
snow
may
leave
off
,
or
something
may
turn
up
.
"
So
once
more
they
got
on
their
feet
,
and
struggled
down
into
the
dell
,
where
they
hunted
about
for
a
cave
or
some
corner
that
was
dry
and
a
protection
from
the
keen
wind
and
the
whirling
snow
.
They
were
investigating
one
of
the
hummocky
bits
the
Rat
had
spoken
of
,
when
suddenly
the
Mole
tripped
up
and
fell
forward
on
his
face
with
a
squeal
.
"
O
my
leg
!
"
he
cried
.
"
O
my
poor
shin
!
"
and
he
sat
up
on
the
snow
and
nursed
his
leg
in
both
his
front
paws
.
"
Poor
old
Mole
!
"
said
the
Rat
kindly
.
"
You
do
n't
seem
to
be
having
much
luck
to-day
,
do
you
?
Let
's
have
a
look
at
the
leg
.
Yes
,
"
he
went
on
,
going
down
on
his
knees
to
look
,
"
you
've
cut
your
shin
,
sure
enough
.
Wait
till
I
get
at
my
handkerchief
,
and
I
'll
tie
it
up
for
you
.
"
"
I
must
have
tripped
over
a
hidden
branch
or
a
stump
,
"
said
the
Mole
miserably
.
"
O
,
my
!
O
,
my
!
"
"
It
's
a
very
clean
cut
,
"
said
the
Rat
,
examining
it
again
attentively
.
"
That
was
never
done
by
a
branch
or
a
stump
.
Looks
as
if
it
was
made
by
a
sharp
edge
of
something
in
metal
.
Funny
!
"
He
pondered
awhile
,
and
examined
the
humps
and
slopes
that
surrounded
them
.
