Benjamin Bunny set off at once after Tommy Brock.

There was not much difficulty in tracking him; he had left his foot-mark and gone slowly up the winding footpath through the wood.  Here he had rooted up the moss and wood sorrel.  There he had dug quite a deep hole for dog darnel; and had set a mole trap.  A little stream crossed the way.  Benjamin skipped lightly over dry-foot; the badger’s heavy steps showed plainly in the mud.

The path led to a part of the thicket where the trees had been cleared; there were leafy oak stumps, and a sea of blue hyacinths —­but the smell that made Benjamin stop was not the smell of flowers!

Mr. Tod’s stick house was before him; and, for once, Mr. Tod was at home.  There was not only a foxy flavor in proof of it—­there was smoke coming out of the broken pail that served as a chimney.

Benjamin Bunny sat up, staring, his whiskers twitched.  Inside the stick house somebody dropped a plate, and said something.  Benjamin stamped his foot, and bolted.

He never stopped till he came to the other side of the wood.  Apparently Tommy Brock had turned the same way.  Upon the top of the wall there were again the marks of

badger; and some ravellings of a sack had caught on a briar.

Benjamin climbed over the wall, into a meadow.  He found another mole trap newly set; he was still upon the track of Tommy Brock.  It was getting late in the afternoon.  Other rabbits were coming out to enjoy the evening air.  One of them in a blue coat, by himself, was busily hunting for dandelions.—­ “Cousin Peter!  Peter Rabbit, Peter Rabbit!” shouted Benjamin Bunny.

The blue coated rabbit sat up with pricked ears—­“Whatever is the matter, Cousin Benjamin?  Is it a cat? or John Stoat Ferret?”

“No, no, no!  He’s bagged my family—­Tommy Brock—­in a sack —­have you seen him?”

“Tommy Brock? how many,
Cousin Benjamin?”

“Seven, Cousin Peter, and all of them twins!  Did he come this way?  Please tell me quick!”

“Yes, yes; not ten minutes since ... he said they were caterpillars; I did think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars.”

“Which way? which way has he gone, Cousin Peter?”

“He had a sack with something live in it; I watched him set a mole trap.  Let me use my mind, Cousin Benjamin; tell me from the beginning,” Benjamin did so.

“My Uncle Bouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his years;” said Peter reflectively, “but there are two hopeful circumstances.  Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had refreshments.  He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast.”  “Which way?” “Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself.  I know very well which way.  Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick house he has gone to Mr. Tod’s other house, at the top of Bull Banks.  I partly know, because he offered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail’s; he said he would be passing.”  (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on the hill.)