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Home
!
That
was
what
they
meant
,
those
caressing
appeals
,
those
soft
touches
wafted
through
the
air
,
those
invisible
little
hands
pulling
and
tugging
,
all
one
way
!
Why
,
it
must
be
quite
close
by
him
at
that
moment
,
his
old
home
that
he
had
hurriedly
forsaken
and
never
sought
again
,
that
day
when
he
first
found
the
River
!
And
now
it
was
sending
out
its
scouts
and
its
messengers
to
capture
him
and
bring
him
in
.
Since
his
escape
on
that
bright
morning
he
had
hardly
given
it
a
thought
,
so
absorbed
had
he
been
in
his
new
life
,
in
all
its
pleasures
,
its
surprises
,
its
fresh
and
captivating
experiences
.
Now
,
with
a
rush
of
old
memories
,
how
clearly
it
stood
up
before
him
,
in
the
darkness
!
Shabby
indeed
,
and
small
and
poorly
furnished
,
and
yet
his
,
the
home
he
had
made
for
himself
,
the
home
he
had
been
so
happy
to
get
back
to
after
his
day
's
work
.
And
the
home
had
been
happy
with
him
,
too
,
evidently
,
and
was
missing
him
,
and
wanted
him
back
,
and
was
telling
him
so
,
through
his
nose
,
sorrowfully
,
reproachfully
,
but
with
no
bitterness
or
anger
;
only
with
plaintive
reminder
that
it
was
there
,
and
wanted
him
.
The
call
was
clear
,
the
summons
was
plain
.
He
must
obey
it
instantly
,
and
go
.
"
Ratty
!
"
he
called
,
full
of
joyful
excitement
,
"
hold
on
!
Come
back
!
I
want
you
,
quick
!
"
"
Oh
,
come
along
,
Mole
,
do
!
"
replied
the
Rat
cheerfully
,
still
plodding
along
.
"
Please
stop
,
Ratty
!
"
pleaded
the
poor
Mole
,
in
anguish
of
heart
.
"
You
do
n't
understand
!
It
's
my
home
,
my
old
home
!
I
've
just
come
across
the
smell
of
it
,
and
it
's
close
by
here
,
really
quite
close
.
And
I
must
go
to
it
,
I
must
,
I
must
!
Oh
,
come
back
,
Ratty
!
Please
,
please
come
back
!
"
The
Rat
was
by
this
time
very
far
ahead
,
too
far
to
hear
clearly
what
the
Mole
was
calling
,
too
far
to
catch
the
sharp
note
of
painful
appeal
in
his
voice
.
And
he
was
much
taken
up
with
the
weather
,
for
he
too
,
could
smell
something
--
something
suspiciously
like
approaching
snow
.
"
Mole
,
we
must
n't
stop
now
,
really
!
"
he
called
back
.
"
We
'll
come
for
it
to-morrow
,
whatever
it
is
you
've
found
.
But
I
dare
n't
stop
now
--
it
's
late
,
and
the
snow
's
coming
on
again
,
and
I
'm
not
sure
of
the
way
!
And
I
want
your
nose
,
Mole
,
so
come
on
quick
,
there
's
a
good
fellow
!
"
And
the
Rat
pressed
forward
on
his
way
without
waiting
for
an
answer
.
Poor
Mole
stood
alone
in
the
road
,
his
heart
torn
asunder
,
and
a
big
sob
gathering
,
gathering
,
somewhere
low
down
inside
him
,
to
leap
up
to
the
surface
presently
,
he
knew
,
in
passionate
escape
.
But
even
under
such
a
test
as
this
his
loyalty
to
his
friend
stood
firm
.
Never
for
a
moment
did
he
dream
of
abandoning
him
.
Meanwhile
,
the
wafts
from
his
old
home
pleaded
,
whispered
,
conjured
,
and
finally
claimed
him
imperiously
.
He
dared
not
tarry
longer
within
their
magic
circle
.
With
a
wrench
that
tore
his
very
heart-strings
he
set
his
face
down
the
road
and
followed
submissively
in
the
track
of
the
Rat
,
while
faint
,
thin
little
smells
,
still
dogging
his
retreating
nose
,
reproached
him
for
his
new
friendship
and
his
callous
forgetfulness
.
With
an
effort
he
caught
up
to
the
unsuspecting
Rat
,
who
began
chattering
cheerfully
about
what
they
would
do
when
they
got
back
,
and
how
jolly
a
fire
of
logs
in
the
parlour
would
be
,
and
what
a
supper
he
meant
to
eat
;
never
noticing
his
companion
's
silence
and
distressful
state
of
mind
.
At
last
,
however
,
when
they
had
gone
some
considerable
way
further
,
and
were
passing
some
tree
stumps
at
the
edge
of
a
copse
that
bordered
the
road
,
he
stopped
and
said
kindly
,
"
Look
here
,
Mole
,
old
chap
,
you
seem
dead
tired
.
No
talk
left
in
you
,
and
your
feet
dragging
like
lead
.
We
'll
sit
down
here
for
a
minute
and
rest
.
The
snow
has
held
off
so
far
,
and
the
best
part
of
our
journey
is
over
.
"
