"Hush!" put in Tim. "It's what did they _do?_ And who thought of it
first?"

The question last but one was chosen for solution.

"The rabbit," announced the figure recklessly. "The rabbit saved them;
and in saving them it saved the Island too. It founded Ingland, this
very Ingland on which we live to-day. In fact, it started the British
Empire by its action. The rabbit did it."

"How? How?"

"It heard the squirrel's whisper half-way down its hole. It forgot
about its front teeth, and the moment it forgot them they, of course,
stopped growing. It recovered all its courage. A grand idea had come
to it. It came bustling out of its hiding-place, stood on its hind
legs, poked its bright eyes over the window-ledge, and told them how
to escape. It said, 'I'll dig my hole deeper and we'll empty the sea
into it as it rises. We'll pour the water down my hole!'"

The figure paused and fixed his eyes upon each listener in turn,
challenging disapproval, yet eager for sympathy at the same time. In
place of criticism, however, he met only silence and breathless
admiration. Also--he heard that distant sound _they_ had forgotten,
and realised it had come much nearer. It had reached the second floor.
He made swift and desperate calculations. He decided that it was
_just_ possible ... with ordinary good luck ...

"So they all went out and began to deepen the rabbit's hole. They dug
and dug and dug. The man took off both his coats; the rabbit scraped