Mr. Tod's stick house was before him and, for once, Mr. Tod was at
home. There was not only a foxey flavour 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—