In a moment or two Master Weasel tucked the egg under his chin and was off once more.
“What a dear little thing, to be sure!” said Dolly. “How quaint to carry an egg in that way!”
“It looks pretty, that is certain,” said Uncle George, “but it is a dreadful foe to the smaller animals of the field. There are other foes, too, and I hope we may see some of them before we return.”
The boys were glad to hear their uncle say this, and they asked him to take them, now they were rested, a little farther up the stream.
All of them made a start.
By and by they came to a place where the stream made a kind of pool. The pool was bounded on each side by high rocks. At the top end the water came down with a rush from a great height.
It was a very lonely spot indeed; and, except for the noise of the water, nothing could be heard.
On and on they went.
Uncle George told them of the stoat, the polecat, and the marten, all of which, he said, were foes of the smaller animals.
Tom kept a sharp look out, and hoped he would see at least one of these.