Every now and then the larks flew over, uttering their call-note.

Behind a bunch of rushes a young rabbit crouched in the ditch on the earth thrown out from the hole hard by, doubtful in his mind whether to stay there or to enter the burrow.
It was so still and mild between the banks, where there was not the least current of air, that the curate grew quite warm with the exertion.

His boots adhered to the clay, in which they sank at every step; they came out with a 'sock, sock.' He now followed the marks of footsteps, planting his step where the weight of some carter or shepherd had pressed the mud down firm.

Where these failed he was attracted by a narrow grass-grown ridge, a few inches wide, between two sets of ruts.

In a minute he felt the ridge giving beneath him as the earth slipped into the watery ruts.