mother saw and knew it was a sign, like the changing of a boy's
voice, that her little one was no longer a baby but would soon be a
grown-up Cottontail.

V

There is magic in running water. Who does not know it and feel it?
The railroad builder fearlessly throws his bank across the wide bog
or lake, or the sea itself, but the tiniest nil of running water he
treats with great respect, studies its wish and its way and gives it
all it seems to ask. The thirst-parched traveller in the poisonous
alkali deserts holds back in deadly fear from the sedgy ponds till
he finds one down whose centre is a thin, clear line, and a faint
flow, the sign of running, living water, and joyfully he drinks.

There is magic in running water, no evil spell can cross it. Tam
O'Shanter proved its potency in time of sorest need. The
wild-wood creature with its deadly foe following tireless on the
trail scent, realizes its nearing doom and feels an awful spell. Its
strength is spent, its -- every trick is tried in vain till the good
Angel leads it to the water, the running, living water, and dashing
in it follows the cooling stream, and then with force renewed--
takes to the woods again.

There is magic in running water. The hounds come to the very spot
and halt and cast about; and halt and cast in vain. Their spell is
broken by the merry stream, and the wild thing lives its life.

And this was one of the great secrets that Raggylug learned from
his mother--"after the Brierrose, the Water is your friend."