As we crawled out a bark hailed us from above, and there was Cob sitting out on a low branch over our heads.
‘I say, you fellows,’ he cried, ‘this is jolly, isn’t it?
‘Ripping!’ I answered. ‘Have you had a feed?’
‘Yes, I’ve had some mast; but we haven’t much, so I thought of going over to the fir-trees and looking for some cones.’
‘Right you are. We’ll come too. I’m still hungry enough to eat the most turpentiny cone in the coppice.’
So the three of us scuttled off across the crisp surface, and after satisfying ourselves with pine-kernels and a little of the inner bark from the branch tips by way of dessert, proceeded to rouse the wood with a thorough good scamper. We had the whole place quite to ourselves except for the birds. The wood-pigeons seemed as cheerful as usual, and the tits were busy pecking along the branches. But I must say I felt sorry for the robins, the thrushes, and blackbirds, and most of the other feathered creatures. The poor things seemed to have no life left in them. They sat huddled up in the sunshine with their feathers all fluffed out, till they looked twice as big as usual, but evidently they were all pretty hungry. Birds, you know, do not suffer much from cold directly, but when there is hard frost, and especially when frozen snow covers the ground, they have to go on very short commons. Those that feed on the grubs that live in tree trunks do well enough, and, of course, the sparrows and finches visit the rick and farm yards, and so provide for themselves. It is the berry and worm-eating birds who are worst off in weather of this kind. The hips and haws do not last long, and in really severe frost the holly berries also disappear, leaving only such untempting food as the hard dark ivy berries. Worse than all is the lack of water, and I fancy as many birds perish from thirst during a long frost as from all other causes put together.
When the low sun began to drop towards the west the cold increased, and we three hurried home and went to sleep again. But a day or two later the same brilliant sun called us again, and this time we resolved to pay our promised visit to the hedge by the hazel bushes, where we had buried the first of our nuts. At our special request Cob accompanied us. He, good fellow, as I discovered, was half-starving himself, in order to keep a supply for his sister and father, in case they woke up, so I consulted Rusty, and we agreed that we would take him with us and stand him a good feed out of our nut-store.
When we reached the place, we found, much to our disgust, that the ditch was quite full of snow, which had drifted in from the field. There was nothing for it but to begin a regular quarrying job, and very hard work we found it. Cob worked like a mole, and but for his useful assistance we should hardly have succeeded in reaching the treasure stored beneath the old thorn stump. As it was, we must have been digging fully two hours before we at last hit upon the right spot, and what with the keen air and the hard work we were pretty sharp-set by the time the plump brown beauties were unearthed.
‘Great water rats!’ exclaimed Rusty, driving his strong front teeth through the glossy shell of his first nut, and jerking away the pieces with quick, hungry tugs. ‘This is fine! All the sun and none of the wind. Just the place for a good feed and a rest.’