Chapter 6 Rescued Meanwhile, the rat, warm and comfortable, dozed by his fireside.
Then a coal slipped.
The fire crackled and sent up a spurt of flame, and he woke with a start.
He looked around for the mole, but the mole was not there.
He listened for a time.
The house seemed very quiet.
Then he called, Holy! several times.
When he received no answers, he got up and went out into the hall.
The mole's cap was missing from its usual peg.
His boots, which always lay by the umbrella stand, were also gone.
The rat left the house and carefully examined the muddy ground outside, hoping to find the mole's tracks.
There they were, sure enough. the imprint of the boots in the mud led directly to the wild wood.
The rat stood in deep thought for a minute or two and then set off for the wild wood.
It was already toward dusk when he reached the first fringe of trees and he plunged in without hesitation.
Here and there, wicked little faces popped out of the holes.
He made his way fearlessly through the forest, looking around and calling out cheerfully Molly Molly Molly, where are you?
It's me, it's old rat.
He had hunted through the wood for an hour or more when he heard a little cry answering him.
Following the sound, he made his way through the gathering darkness to the foot of an old beech tree with a hole in it.
And from out of the hole came a feeble voice, saying, Ratty, is that really you?
The rat crept into the hollow, and there he found the mole, tired and still trembling.
Oh, rat, he cried, I've been so scared.
You can't think.
I quite understand, said the rat soothingly.
You shouldn't really have gone and done it, Mole.
I did my best to keep you from it.
We river bankers hardly ever come here by ourselves.
The Mole was greatly cheered by the sound of the rat's voice and he stopped shivering and began to feel bolder and more himself again.
Now then, said the rat presently, really must pull ourselves together and make a start for home while there's still light left.
It will never do just spend the night here, you understand.
For one thing it will be too cold, dear ratty, said the poor mole, i'm dreadfully sorry, but i'm so tired.
You must let me rest here a while longer and get my strength back.
Oh, all right, said the good-natured rat.
It's pretty nearly pitch dark now, anyhow, and there will be a bit of moon later.
So the mole stretched himself out and soon dropped off into sleep, though it was a broken and troubled sort of sleep.
Rat covered himself up, too, as best as he could for warmth, and lay patiently.
When at last the mole woke up, the rat said Now then I'll just take a look outside, and if everything's quiet, then we really must be off.
He went to the entrance and put his head out.
What's up, Ratty? asked the mole.
Snow is up, replied the rat briefly.
Or rather, down.
It's snowing hard.
Well, he continued, We must take our chances, I suppose.
The worst of it is I don't know exactly where we are.
And now this snow makes everything look so different.
It did, indeed.
The mole came and crouched beside the rat and saw the wood that had been so dreadful to him was now quite changed.
All the scary holes, hollows and pools had vanished and a gleaming white carpet had sprung up everywhere.
The mole would not have known it was the same wood.
However, they set out bravely and took the route that seemed most promising.
An hour or two later, they had lost all count of time.
They sat down on a fallen tree trunk to recover their breath.
They were aching with fatigue and bruised with tumbles.
They had fallen into several holes and were wet through, and the snow was getting so deep that they could hardly drag their little legs through it.
There seemed to be no way out.
We can't sit here very long, said the rat.
The cold is too awful for anything, and the snow is getting deep.
We'll make our way down into that dell and find some sort of shelter, a cave or a hole with a dry floor to it.
We'll have a good rest before we try again.
So they struggled down into the dell, where they hunted about for dry shelter.
Suddenly the mole tripped and fell forward on his face with a squeal.
My leg, he cried.
Oh, my poor shin.
And he sat up on the snow and nursed his leg in both of his front paws.
I must have tripped over a hidden branch or a stump, said the mole miserably.
Oh, my.
Oh, my.
It's a very clean cut, said the rat, examining Mole's leg.
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 a while and examined the humps and slopes that surrounded them.
He scratched and shoveled and explored all four legs, working busily while the mole waited impatiently muttering Oh, come on rat.
Suddenly the rat cried, Hooray!
Ray, oh, ray, ray, oh, ray, and did a silly dance in the snow.
"'What have you found, Ratty?' asked the mole, still nursing his leg.
"'Come and see,' said the delighted rat as he danced on.
The mole hobbled up to the spot and had a good look.
"'Well,' he said at last, slowly.
I see it right enough.
A door scraper.
So.
But don't you see what it means, you, you dull-witted animal, cried the rat impatiently.
Of course I see what it means, replied the mole.
Some very careless and forgetful person has left his door scraper lying about in the middle of the wild wood, just where it's sure to trip everybody up.
Very thoughtless of him.
Oh, dear, oh, dear, cried the rat in despair.
Here, stop arguing and come and scrape.
And he set to work again and made the snow fly on all directions around him.
The rat attacked a snowbake beside them, digging with fury, and the mole scraped busily too, more to oblige the rat than for any other reason, for his opinion was that his friend was getting lightheaded.
After ten minutes of work, Rat struck something that sounded hollow.
He worked harder till he could get a paw through and feel, then he called Mole to come and help him.
The two animals dug hard till at last.
The result of their labor stood in full view of the astonished mole.
In the side of what had seemed to be a snowbank stood a solid-looking little door painted a dark green.
An iron bell-pole hung by the side and below it on a small brass plate, neatly engraved in square capital letters.
They could read by the aid of the moonlight.
Mr. Badger.
The mole fell backward on the snow from sheer surprise and delight.
Rat, he cried, you're a wonder.
You figured it out, step by step, in that wise head of yours.
From that very moment I fell and cut my shin.
If only I had your head, Ratty.
But as you haven't interrupted the rat, rather unkindly, I suppose you're going to sit on the snow all night and talk.
Get up at once and hang on to that bell-bull there and ring as hard as you can while I hammer.
While the rat attacked the door with a stick, the mole sprang up at the bell pole, clutched it and swung there, both his feet well off the ground.
From quite a long way off, they could faintly hear a deep, toned bell respond.
