When all was quite ready, the Badger took a dark lantern in one paw, grasped his great stick with the other, and said, ‘Now then, follow me! Mole first, ’cos I’m very pleased with him; Rat next; Toad last. And look here, Toady! Don’t you chatter so much as usual, or you’ll be sent back, as sure as fate!’

The Toad was so anxious not to be left out that he took up the inferior position assigned to him without a murmur, and the animals set off. The Badger led them along by the river for a little way, and then suddenly swung himself over the edge into a hole in the river bank, a little above the water. The Mole and the Rat followed silently, swinging themselves successfully into the hole as they had seen the Badger do; but when it came to Toad’s turn, of course he managed to slip and fall into the water with a loud splash and a squeal of alarm. He was hauled out by his friends, rubbed down and wrung out hastily, comforted, and set on his legs; but the Badger was seriously angry, and told him that the very next time he made a fool of himself he would most certainly be left behind.

So at last they were in the secret passage, and the cutting-out expedition had really begun!

It was cold, and dark, and damp, and low, and narrow, and poor Toad began to shiver, partly from dread of what might be before him, partly because he was wet through. The lantern was far ahead, and he could not help lagging behind a little in the darkness. Then he heard the Rat call out warningly, ‘Come on, Toad!’ and a terror seized him of being left behind, alone in the darkness, and he ‘came on’ with such a rush that he upset the Rat into the Mole and the Mole into the Badger, and for a moment all was confusion. The Badger thought they were being attacked from behind, and, as there was no room to use a stick or a cutlass, drew a pistol, and was on the point of putting a bullet into Toad. When he found out what had really happened he was very angry indeed, and said, ‘Now this time that tiresome Toad shall be left behind!’

But Toad whimpered, and the other two promised that they would be answerable for his good conduct, and at last the Badger was pacified, and the procession moved on; only this time the Rat brought up the rear, with a firm grip on the shoulder of Toad.

So they groped and shuffled along, with their ears pricked up and their paws on their pistols, till at last the Badger said, ‘We ought by now to be pretty nearly under the Hall.’

Then suddenly they heard, far away as it might be, and yet apparently nearly over their heads, a confused murmur of sound, as if people were shouting and cheering and stamping on the floor and hammering on tables. The Toad’s nervous terrors all returned, but the Badger only remarked placidly, ‘They are going it, the weasels!’

The passage now began to slope upwards; they groped onward a little further, and then the noise broke out again, quite distinct this time, and very close above them. ‘Ooo-ray-oo-ray-oo-ray-ooray!’ they heard, and the stamping of little feet on the floor, and the clinking of glasses as little fists pounded on the table. ‘What a time they’re having!’ said the Badger. ‘Come on!’ They hurried along the passage till it came to a full stop, and they found themselves standing under the trap-door that led up into the butler’s pantry.

Such a tremendous noise was going on in the banqueting-hall that there was little danger of their being overheard. The Badger said, ‘Now, boys, all together!’ and the four of them put their shoulders to the trap-door and heaved it back. Hoisting each other up, they found themselves standing in the pantry, with only a door between them and the banqueting-hall, where their unconscious enemies were carousing.

The noise, as they emerged from the passage, was simply deafening. At last, as the cheering and hammering slowly subsided, a voice could be made out saying, ‘Well, I do not propose to detain you much longer’—(great applause)—‘but before I resume my seat’—(renewed cheering)—‘I should like to say one word about our kind host, Mr. Toad. We all know Toad!’—(great laughter)—‘Good Toad, modest Toad, honest Toad!’—(shrieks of merriment).

‘Only just let me get at him!’ muttered Toad, grinding his teeth.

‘Hold hard a minute!’ said the Badger, restraining him with difficulty. ‘Get ready, all of you!’

‘—Let me sing you a little song,’ went on the voice, ‘which I have composed on the subject of Toad’—(prolonged applause).

Then the Chief Weasel—for it was he—began in a high, squeaky voice:

What a squealing and a squeaking and a screeching filled the air!

Well might the terrified weasels dive under the tables and spring madly up at the windows! Well might the ferrets rush wildly for the fireplace and get hopelessly jammed in the chimney! Well might tables and chairs be upset, and glass and china be sent crashing on the floor, in the panic of that terrible moment when the four Heroes strode wrathfully into the room! The mighty Badger, his whiskers bristling, his great cudgel whistling through the air; Mole, black and grim, brandishing his stick and shouting his awful war-cry, ‘A Mole! A Mole!’ Rat, desperate and determined, his belt bulging with weapons of every age and every variety; Toad, frenzied with excitement and injured pride, swollen to twice his ordinary size, leaping into the air and emitting Toad-whoops that chilled them to the marrow! ‘Toad he went a-pleasuring!’ he yelled. ‘I’ll pleasure ’em!’ and he went straight for the Chief Weasel. They were but four in all, but to the panic-stricken weasels the hall seemed full of monstrous animals, grey, black, brown, and yellow, whooping and flourishing enormous cudgels; and they broke and fled with squeals of terror and dismay, this way and that, through the windows, up the chimney, anywhere to get out of reach of those terrible sticks.

The affair was soon over. Up and down, the whole length of the hall, strode the four Friends, whacking with their sticks at every head that showed itself; and in five minutes the room was cleared. Through the broken windows the shrieks of terrified weasels escaping across the lawn were borne faintly to their ears; on the floor lay prostrate some dozen or so of the enemy, on whom the Mole was busily engaged in fitting handcuffs. The Badger, resting from his labours, leant on his stick and wiped his honest brow.

‘Mole,’ he said, ‘you’re the best of fellows! Just cut along outside and look after those stoat-sentries of yours, and see what they’re doing. I’ve an idea that, thanks to you, we shan’t have much trouble from them tonight!’

The Mole vanished promptly through a window; and the Badger bade the other two set a table on its legs again, pick up knives and forks and plates and glasses from the debris on the floor, and see if they could find materials for a supper. ‘I want some grub, I do,’ he said, in that rather common way he had of speaking. ‘Stir your stumps, Toad, and look lively! We’ve got your house back for you, and you don’t offer us so much as a sandwich.’

Toad felt rather hurt that the Badger didn’t say pleasant things to him, as he had to the Mole, and tell him what a fine fellow he was, and how splendidly he had fought; for he was rather particularly pleased with himself and the way he had gone for the Chief Weasel and sent him flying across the table with one blow of his stick. But he bustled about, and so did the Rat, and soon they found some guava jelly in a glass dish, and a cold chicken, a tongue that had hardly been touched, some trifle, and quite a lot of lobster salad; and in the pantry they came upon a basketful of French rolls and any quantity of cheese, butter, and celery. They were just about to sit down when the Mole clambered in through the window, chuckling, with an armful of rifles.

‘It’s all over,’ he reported. ‘From what I can make out, as soon as the stoats, who were very nervous and jumpy already, heard the shrieks and the yells and the uproar inside the hall, some of them threw down their rifles and fled. The others stood fast for a bit, but when the weasels came rushing out upon them they thought they were betrayed; and the stoats grappled with the weasels, and the weasels fought to get away, and they wrestled and wriggled and punched each other, and rolled over and over, till most of ’em rolled into the river! They’ve all disappeared by now, one way or another; and I’ve got their rifles. So that’s all right!’

‘Excellent and deserving animal!’ said the Badger, his mouth full of chicken and trifle.^cf ‘Now, there’s just one more thing I want you to do, Mole, before you sit down to your supper along of us; and I wouldn’t trouble you only I know I can trust you to see a thing done, and I wish I could say the same of every one I know. I’d send Rat, if he wasn’t a poet. I want you to take those fellows on the floor there upstairs with you, and have some bedrooms cleaned out and tidied up and made really comfortable. See that they sweep under the beds, and put clean sheets and pillowcases on, and turn down one corner of the bedclothes, just as you know it ought to be done; and have a can of hot water, and clean towels, and fresh cakes of soap, put in each room. And then you can give them a licking apiece, if it’s any satisfaction to you, and put them out by the back door, and we shan’t see any more of them, I fancy. And then come along and have some of this cold tongue. It’s first-rate. I’m very pleased with you, Mole!’

The good-natured Mole picked up a stick, formed his prisoners up in a line on the floor, gave them the order ‘Quick march!’ and led his squad off to the upper floor. After a time, he appeared again, smiling, and said that every room was ready, and as clean as a new pin. ‘And I didn’t have to lick them, either,’ he added. ‘I thought, on the whole, they had had licking enough for one night, and the weasels, when I put the point to them, quite agreed with me, and said they wouldn’t think of troubling me. They were very penitent, and said they were extremely sorry for what they had done, but it was all the fault of the Chief Weasel and the stoats, and if ever they could do anything for us at any time to make up, we had only got to mention it. So I gave them a roll apiece, and let them out at the back, and off they ran, as hard as they could!’

Then the Mole pulled his chair up to the table, and pitched into the cold tongue; and Toad, like the gentleman he was, put all his jealousy from him, and said heartily, ‘Thank you kindly, dear Mole, for all your pains and trouble tonight, and especially for your cleverness this morning!’ The Badger was pleased at that, and said, ‘There spoke my brave Toad!’ So they finished their supper in great joy and contentment, and presently retired to rest between clean sheets, safe in Toad’s ancestral home, won back by matchless valour, consummate strategy, and a proper handling of sticks.

The following morning, Toad, who had overslept himself as usual, came down to breakfast disgracefully late, and found on the table a certain quantity of egg-shells, some fragments of cold and leathery toast, a coffee-pot three-fourths empty, and really very little else; which did not tend to improve his temper, considering that, after all, it was his own house. Through the French windows of the breakfast-room he could see the Mole and the Water Rat sitting in wicker chairs out on the lawn, evidently telling each other stories; roaring with laughter and kicking their short legs up in the air. The Badger, who was in an armchair and deep in the morning paper, merely looked up and nodded when Toad entered the room. But Toad knew his man, so he sat down and made the best breakfast he could, merely observing to himself that he would get square with the others sooner or later. When he had nearly finished, the Badger looked up and remarked rather shortly: ‘I’m sorry, Toad, but I’m afraid there’s a heavy morning’s work in front of you. You see, we really ought to have a Banquet at once, to celebrate this affair. It’s expected of you—in fact, it’s the rule.’

‘O, all right!’ said the Toad readily. ‘Anything to oblige. Though why on earth you should want to have a Banquet in the morning I cannot understand. But you know I do not live to please myself, but merely to find out what my friends want, and then try and arrange it for ’em, you dear old Badger!’

‘Don’t pretend to be stupider than you really are,’ replied the Badger crossly; ‘and don’t chuckle and splutter in your coffee while you’re talking; it’s not manners. What I mean is, the Banquet will be at night, of course, but the invitations will have to be written and got off at once, and you’ve got to write ’em. Now, sit down at the table—there’s stacks of letter-paper on it, with “Toad Hall” at the top in blue and gold—and write invitations to all our friends, and if you stick to it we shall get them out before luncheon. And I’ll bear a hand, too, and take my share of the burden. I’ll order the Banquet.’

‘What!’ cried Toad, dismayed. ‘Me stop indoors and write a lot of rotten letters on a jolly morning like this, when I want to go around my property, and set everything and everybody to rights, and swagger about and enjoy myself! Certainly not! I’ll be—I’ll see you—Stop a minute, though! Why, of course, dear Badger! What is my pleasure or convenience compared with that of others! You wish it done, and it shall be done. Go, Badger, order the Banquet, order what you like; then join our young friends outside in their innocent mirth, oblivious of me and my cares and tolls. I sacrifice this fair morning on the altar of duty and friendship!’

The Badger looked at him very suspiciously, but Toad’s frank, open countenance made it difficult to suggest any unworthy motive in this change of attitude. He quitted the room, accordingly, in the direction of the kitchen, and as soon as the door had closed behind him, Toad hurried to the writing-table. A fine idea had occurred to him while he was talking. He would write the invitations; and he would take care to mention the leading part he had taken in the fight, and how he had laid the Chief Weasel flat; and he would hint at his adventures, and what a career of triumph he had to tell about; and on the fly-leaf he would give a sort of programme of entertainment for the evening—something like this, as he sketched it out in his head:

When the other animals came back to luncheon, very boisterous and breezy after a morning on the river, the Mole, whose conscience had been pricking him, looked doubtfully at Toad, expecting to find him sulky or depressed. Instead, he was so uppish and inflated that the Mole began to suspect something; while the Rat and the Badger exchanged significant glances.

As soon as the meal was over, Toad thrust his paws deep into his trouser-pockets, remarked casually, ‘Well, look after yourselves, you fellows! Ask for anything you want!’ and was swaggering off in the direction of the garden where he wanted to think out an idea or two for his coming speeches, when the Rat caught him by the arm.

Toad rather suspected what he was after, and did his best to get away; but when the Badger took him firmly by the other arm he began to see that the game was up. The two animals conducted him between them into the small smoking-room that opened out of the entrance-hall, shut the door, and put him into a chair. Then they both stood in front of him, while Toad sat silent and regarded them with much suspicion and ill-humour.

‘Now, look here, Toad,’ said the Rat. ‘It’s about this Banquet, and very sorry I am to have to speak to you like this. But we want you to understand clearly once and for all, that there are going to be no speeches and no songs. Try and grasp the fact that on this occasion we’re not arguing with you; we’re just telling you.’

Toad saw that he was trapped. They understood him, they saw through him, they had got ahead of him. His pleasant dream was shattered.

‘Mayn’t I sing them just one little song?’ he pleaded piteously.

‘No, not one little song,’ replied the Rat firmly, though his heart bled as he noticed the trembling lip of the poor disappointed Toad. ‘It’s no good, Toady; you know well that your songs are all conceit and boasting and vanity; and your speeches are all self-praise and—and—well, and gross exaggeration and—and—’

‘And gas,’ put in the Badger, in his common way.

‘It’s for your own good, Toady,’ went on the Rat. ‘You know you must turn over a new leaf sooner or later, and now seems a splendid time to begin; a sort of turning-point in your career. Please don’t think that saying all this doesn’t hurt me more that it hurts you.’

Toad remained a long while plunged in thought. At last he raised his head, and the traces of strong emotion were visible on his features. ‘You have conquered, my friends,’ he said in broken accents. ‘It was, to be sure, but a small thing that I asked—merely leave to blossom and expand for yet one more evening, to let myself go and hear the tumultuous applause that always seems to me—somehow—to bring out my best qualities. However, you are right, I know, and I am wrong. Henceforth I will be a very different Toad. My friends, you shall never have occasion to blush for me again. But, O dear, O dear, this is a hard world!’

And, pressing his handkerchief to his face, he left the room with faltering footsteps.

‘Badger,’ said the Rat, ‘I feel like a brute; I wonder what you feel like?’

‘O, I know, I know,’ said the Badger gloomily. ‘But the thing had to be done. This good fellow has got to live here, and hold his own, and be respected. Would you have him a common laughing-stock, mocked and jeered at by stoats and weasels?’

‘Of course not,’ said the Rat. ‘And, talking of weasels, it’s lucky we came upon that little weasel, just as he was setting out with Toad’s invitations. I suspected something from what you told me, and had a look at one or two; they were simply disgraceful. I confiscated the lot, and the good Mole is now sitting in the blue boudoir,^cg filling up plain, simple invitation cards.’

Then he heaved a deep sigh; a long, long, long sigh.

Then he dipped his hairbrush in the water-jug, parted his hair in the middle, and plastered it down very straight and sleek on each side of his face; and, unlocking the door, went quietly down the stairs to greet his guests, who he knew must be assembling in the drawing-room.

All the animals cheered when he entered, and crowded round to congratulate him and say nice things about his courage, and his cleverness, and his fighting qualities; but Toad only smiled faintly and murmured, ‘Not at all!’ Or, sometimes, for a change, ‘On the contrary!’ Otter, who was standing on the hearth-rug, describing to an admiring circle of friends exactly how he would have managed things had he been there, came forward with a shout, threw his arm round Toad’s neck, and tried to take him round the room in triumphal progress; but Toad, in a mild way, was rather snubby to him, remarking gently, as he disengaged himself, ‘Badger’s was the mastermind; the Mole and Water Rat bore the brunt of the fighting; I merely served in the ranks and did little or nothing.’ The animals were evidently puzzled and taken aback by this unexpected attitude of his; and Toad felt, as he moved from one guest to the other, making his modest responses, that he was an object of absorbing interest to every one.

The Badger had ordered everything of the best, and the banquet was a great success. There was much talking and laughter and chaff among the animals, but through it all Toad, who of course was in the chair, looked down his nose and murmured pleasant nothings to the animals on either side of him. At intervals he stole a glance at the Badger and the Rat, and always when he looked they were staring at each other with their mouths open; and this gave him the greatest satisfaction. Some of the younger and livelier animals, as the evening wore on, got whispering to each other that things were not so amusing as they used to be in the good old days; and there were some knockings on the table and cries of ‘Toad! Speech! Speech from Toad! Song! Mr. Toad’s Song!’ But Toad only shook his head gently, raised one paw in mild protest, and, by pressing delicacies on his guests, by topical small-talk, and by earnest inquiries after members of their families not yet old enough to appear at social functions, managed to convey to them that this dinner was being run on strictly conventional lines.

He was indeed an altered Toad!

Sometimes, in the course of long summer evenings, the friends would take a stroll together in the Wild Wood, now successfully tamed so far as they were concerned; and it was pleasing to see how respectfully they were greeted by the inhabitants, and how the mother-weasels would bring their young ones to the mouths of their holes, and say, pointing, ‘Look, baby! There goes the great Mr. Toad! And that’s the gallant Water Rat, a terrible fighter, walking along o’ him! And yonder comes the famous Mr. Mole, of whom you so often have heard your father tell!’ But when their infants were fractious and quite beyond control, they would quiet them by telling how, if they didn’t hush them and not fret them, the terrible grey Badger would up and get them. This was a base libel^ci on Badger, who, though he cared little about Society, was rather fond of children; but it never failed to have its full effect.