Rudolf thought he had never in his life seen people in a boat do so many queer and unnecessary things in so short a time as those two mice did.  They would stop rowing every few minutes and begin sweeping out the floor of their boat with a small broom, dusting seats, cushions, and oar-locks with a little feather duster tied with a pink ribbon.  Then, after a few, rapid, nervous strokes at the oars, one or the other of them would pull his blade out of the water and polish it anxiously with his handkerchief, as if the important thing was to keep it dry.  They would probably never have reached land that day if this had depended on their own efforts, but luckily the breeze was blowing them in the right direction.

All this time the False Hare had been waiting on the rock, and now as the boat was almost within reach, he began leaping up and down, clapping his paws and calling out in the heartiest tones:  “Go it, my dear old Salts!  Hurrah, my fine Jack Tars!  You’re a pair of swell old sea-dogs, you are.  Only don’t hurt yourselves, you know.  We wouldn’t like to see you work!”

It seemed as if the white mice knew the False Hare and the value of his remarks, for they made no attempt to answer him, but only looked more and more frightened and uncomfortable.  When their boat was at last beached, they jumped out of it, turned their backs to the rest of the party, and standing as close together as they could get, gazed anxiously out over the water.  Seen close by there was something familiar about the look of these mice to the three children, yes, even though they had grown a great deal, and had disguised themselves by the simple method of licking the chocolate off each other!  Rudolf and Ann hoped Peter would not notice it, but nothing of the sort ever escaped him.  He walked around in front of the two mice, who tried vainly not to meet his eye, looked at them long and earnestly, and said: 

“I say, Mr. Mouses, was you always white?”

The mice turned a pale greenish color in their embarrassment and looked nervously at each other, but answered never a word.

“I thought,” continued Peter, staring steadily at them, “that last time I saw you you was choc’late.  Did you wash it off—­on purpose?” he added sternly.

“Excuse me, sir, we don’t believe in washing,” muttered one of the poor things hastily.

Ann shook her head at Peter.  “Hush!” she whispered.  “You mustn’t be rude to them when they are going to lend us their boat so kindly.”  Then she asked in a loud voice, hoping to change the subject:  “Who is going to row?  Will you, Mr. False Hare?”

“Why certainly, dearie, I adore rowing,” said the False Hare sweetly.

“Then you will have to, Rudolf, and I will look after Peter.  ’He is always so apt to fall out of a boat.  I dare say the mice will be glad of a rest.”