Master Meadow Mouse peeped out of the end of his tunnel and gave a faint squeak. As he watched, he saw Peter Mink's head, on its long neck, flash out from beneath the overhanging bank of the brook.
"What are you doing up there?" Master Meadow Mouse called.
"Fishing!" said Peter Mink promptly.
"Aren't you a long way from the water?" Master Meadow Mouse inquired.
"With a pole, one doesn't need to stand right at the water's edge," said Peter Mink.
"But you haven't a pole," Master Meadow Mouse pointed out. "At least, I can't see that you have one."
Peter was greatly surprised—or seemed to be.
"I declare!" he said. "I forgot to bring my pole with me. And if you hadn't reminded me of it I shouldn't have known what was the trouble. I was wondering why I didn't get any bites." As he spoke he slid down the lower part of the bank and stretched himself like a cat. But all the time he was looking at Master Meadow Mouse out of the corner of his eye. "What are you doing here?" Peter Mink asked pleasantly.
"I came to take a swim," Master Meadow Mouse explained.