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—
"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!"