When Nance crept along the little run made by many generations of
rabbits, she found that it led finally into a dark crack in the rock,
and, squeezing through that, she was in a small dark chamber which smelt
strongly of her friends.

As soon as her eyes recovered from the sudden change from blazing
sunlight to almost pitch darkness, she perceived a small black opening
at the far end, and looking through it she saw a lightening of the
darkness still farther in which tempted her on.

It was a tough scramble even for her, and the closeness of the rocks and
the loneliness weighed upon her somewhat. But there was that glimmer of
light ahead and she must know what it was, and so she climbed and
wriggled over and under the huge splintered rocks till she came to the
light, like a tiny slit of a window far above her head, and still there
were passages leading on.

Next day, with Bernel and a tiny crasset lamp for company, she explored
the burrow to its utmost limits and adopted it at once as their refuge
and stronghold. And thereafter they spent much time there, especially in
the end chamber where a tiny slit gave on to Port Gorey, and they could
lie and watch all that went on down below.

There they solemnly concocted plans for brother Tom's discomfiture, and
thither they retreated after defeat or victory, while he hunted high
and low for them and never could make out where they had got to.

Then Tom went off to sea, and life, for those at home, became a joy
without a flaw--except the thought that he would sometime come