The Mole had wanted for a long time to meet the Badger. He often spoke about his wish to the Water Rat, but the Rat didn't seem to want to do anything about it.

"It's all right," the Rat always said. "Badger will come past one day, and then I'll introduce you."

"Couldn't you invite him to dinner or something?" asked the Mole.

"He wouldn't come," said the Rat. "He hates crowds, and parties, and dinners, and all that kind of thing."

"You said you would tell me about the Wild Woo," said the Mole, "but you never did. Aren't they -- aren't they very nice people in there?"

"Well then, shall we go and visit him?"

"Oh, no!," the Rat said. "He's very shy, and he wouldn't like that at all. I know him very well, but I've never visited his home. And it's not really possible to go there, because he lives right in the middle of the Wild Wood."

"But who could give trouble?" asked the Mole.

"Well," said the Rat, "the squirrels are all right, and the rabbits -- most of them. And Badger, of course. He likes living there. And nobody gives him any trouble."

"There are, well, others," the Rat went on slowly. "Weasels…stoats…ferrets, and so on. They're all right in a way. Most of the time. But, well, you wouldn't want to turn your back to them in the dark, and that's a fact. Don't worry about Badger. He'll come along one day."

But the summer passed and the Badger never came along.

It was a cold afternoon, with a hard grey sky. The Mole hurried along, enjoying the quietness of the winter day, and after a time he saw in front of him the black shape of the Wild Wood.

Soon the days grew shorter, and the cold weather kept the animals inside their comfortable houses. The Rat slept a lot in the winter, going to bed early and getting up late. During his short day, he wrote songs and did small jobs in the house. And, of course, there were always animals calling in for a comfort able talk round the fire, telling stories and remembering the good times and the adventures of the past summer.

One afternoon, while the Rat was sleeping peacefully in front of the fire, the Mole decided to go out by himself and take a walk in the Wild Wood. "Perhaps," he thought, "I'll meet Mr Badger, and then I can introduce myself."

He was not at all frightened at first. It was a strange, dark place, but the Mole found that exciting. He went deeper and deeper into the wood, where the light was less and the trees grew close together. Everything was very still now, and the darkness seemed to come down quickly, shutting the Mole off from the outside world.

He hurried on, telling himself not to be silly. He passed an other hole, and another, and -- yes! Eyes were looking at him, then disappearing again into the darkness. Soon, every hole had a face, which watched him with eyes full of hate.

Then the faces began.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Mole thought that he saw a face looking at him from a hole a little narrow face, with hard unfriendly eyes. When he turned to look straight at it, the thing had disappeared.

It was soft, and far behind him, when he first heard it. Then it seemed to come from in front of him, more loudly. The Mole stopped and listened, then went on again. He was trying hard to stay calm, but his heart was beating very fast. He was alone, and far from help, and the night was coming down quickly.

The Mole felt he had to get away from these faces. He turned off the path and hurried into the thickest part of the wood.

Then the whistling began.

Then the pattering began.

At first he thought it was only falling leaves, but then the noise grew louder and nearer, and the Mole knew what it was. It was the sound of little feet running -- behind him, in front of him, on all sides of him. All the wood seemed to be alive, running, following, chasing something -- or somebody. The frightened Mole began to run too, but he did not know where. He ran into trees and bushes, he fell over things and into things, he picked himself up and ran on. At last he found a deep dark hole in the bottom of an old tree and fell into it, too tired to run another step. He lay there, shaking with fear, and listened to the whistlings and the patterings outside. Now he understood why the Rat did not want to talk about it, and why other small animals from the fields and the river bank never came here. Be cause now, the Mole had felt it himself-the Terror of the Wild Wood.

All this time the Rat, warm and comfortable, was sleeping in front of his fire. When he woke up, he looked round for his friend, but the Mole was not there. He called out 'Moly! 'several times, and when he heard no answer, he got up and went out into the hall.

The Rat left the house and looked around. The ground was soft from rain, and he could see clearly which way the Mole had gone -- straight towards the Wild wood.

The Rat stood thinking for a moment, looking very serious. Then he went back into the house, took a gun and a thick heavy stick, and hurried away across the fields.

Inside the wood it was nearly dark, and the whistling and the pattering began almost at once. But when the faces in the holes saw the Rat's gun and his thick heavy stick, they disappeared immediately, and everything became still and quiet. Patiently, the Rat began to search the wood from end to end, calling all the time, "Moly, Moly! Where are you? It's me -- it's old Rat!"

The Mole's hat was missing, and so were his boots.

"Oh, Ratty!" cried the Mole. "I'm so pleased to see you! I've been so frightened, I can't tell you!"

At last, to his great happiness, he heard a little answering cry, and soon he found the Mole in his hiding-place in the tree.

"I can understand that," said the Rat kindly. "You see, Mole, it's really not a good idea to come here alone. We river bankers always come in twos or threes, if we have to come here. Of course, if you're Badger or Otter, then there's no problem."

The Mole felt a little happier when he heard this, but he was still too tired to start the journey home. So he lay down to sleep under some dry leaves, while the Rat sat next to him, patiently waiting.

"Old Toad?" said the Rat, laughing loudly. "He doesn't put his nose inside the Wild Wood -- much too frightened!"

"Surely the brave Mr Toad is happy to come here alone, isn't he?" asked the Mole.

The Mole woke up feeling much better, and ready to leave. The Rat put his head out of the entrance of the hole, and then the Mole heard him say, "Oh dear, oh dear!"

"What's the matter, Ratty?" asked the Mole.

"Snow," replied the Rat. "It's snowing hard. But we can't stay here all night -- it's too cold, and too dangerous. We'll just have to start walking, and hope. The trouble is, I don't really know where we are, and in the snow everything looks so different."

It did indeed. The white blanket of snow covered everything, hiding the paths, changing the shapes of the trees and bushes. An hour later, they were wet, cold, aching with tiredness, and had no idea where they were.

"Let's have a look," said the Rat, sitting down beside him.

"Look at this, Mole!" he shouted. "Just look at this!"

"That's a very deep cut," he said, surprised. "I wonder what…" Suddenly, he got up and began to dig in the snow.

"Oh, dear, oh dear!" cried the Rat. "Just stop arguing, and dig! Or do you want to spend all night in the snow?"

"Don't you understand, you silly animal?" cried the Rat.

The Rat just went on digging. Then he found something, and immediately began to dance round it excitedly.

They sat down for a rest and were moving on again when the Mole gave a sudden cry and fell forward on his face.

"Oh, my leg!" he cried. "I've hit my leg on something really hard."

"What are you doing, Ratty?" said the Mole.

The Mole did what he was told, although he thought his friend was going crazy. The two animals dug and dug, and after ten minutes' hard work they were successful.

The Mole looked. Then he looked at his fried. "It's a doors-craper. Why get excited about a door-scraper?"

"I understand that somebody's been very careless, leaving a door-scraper lying in the middle of the Wild Wood, for other people to fall over. And when I get home --"

MR BADGER

The Mole fell backwards on the snow in surprise. "Oh, Rat!" he cried. "How clever you are! And how stupid I am!"

"Never mind all that," said the Rat. "Just get up and pull on that bell, while I knock on the door."

The Rat banged on the door with his stick, and the Mole pulled. And from somewhere far under the ground they could just hear the sound of a deep, slow bell.

The Mole had thought that they were digging into a snow bank, but now he saw that there was a door under the snow. A green door, with a long bell -- pull beside it, and a name on it in big letters which said: