Truly rabbits have no speech as we understand it, but they have a
way of conveying ideas by a system of sounds, signs, scents,
whisker-touches, movements, and example that answers the
purpose of speech; and it must be remembered that though in
telling this story I freely translate from rabbit into English, I repeat
nothing that they did not say.

I

The rank swamp grass bent over and concealed the snug nest
where Raggylug's mother had hidden him. She had partly covered
him with some of the bedding, and, as always, her last warning
was to lie low and say nothing, whatever happens. Though tucked
in bed, he was wide awake and his bright eyes were taking in that
part of his little green world that was straight above. A bluejay and
a red-squirrel, two notorious thieves, were loudly berating each
other for stealing, and at one time Rag's home bush was the centre
of their fight; a yellow warbler caught a blue butterfly but six
inches from his nose, and a scarlet and black ladybug, serenely
waving her knobbed feelers, took a long walk up one grassblade,
down another, and across the nest and over Rag's face-- and yet he
never moved nor even winked.

After a while he heard a strange rustling of the leaves in the near
thicket. It was an odd, continuous sound, and though it went this
way and that way and came ever nearer, there was no patter of feet
with it. Rag had lived his whole life in the Swamp (he was three
weeks old) and yet had never heard anything like this. Of course
his curiosity was greatly aroused. His mother had cautioned him to
lie low, but that was understood to be in case of danger, and this