Great Cross Country Race Frog Rock Quarry

Rat: What else can it be?

It’s hard like a rock

Rat: Please,—you’ll be saying that this stubby bit is a tail next!

And there’s something here that could be a head—if it had ears—which it hasn’t.

Hedgehog: It would be an even odder animal.

Of course, there are some very odd animals. Far be it from me to be personal, Sooner, but you yourself—prickles instead of fur.

Badger: Yes, Mrs. Warren, it was your suggestion. Now, who’s for Grass Eating?

Not me, for one. Nuts, yes: grass no.

Rook: Climbing’s for morons. I soar.

Well, really!

Badger: A most novel idea from Mr. Spiney—a Curling in a Ball and Rolling Down Hill Race.

Most undignified.

Badger: At least we have two competitors for that—Mr. Reynard and Fleet.

Reynard won’t be entering, Mr. Feet. He asked me to say he was sorry but he sprained a paw yesterday on a hunt.

Badger: Not badly I trust!

Nothing, really. But he’s resting up today. Apparently there’s another hunt at the week-end which he doesn’t want to miss. The Horses and Hounds do look forward to it so, and he hates to disappoint them.

Badger: Something will have delayed him.

Food most probably.

Rabbit: I can do half a field quite quickly, but I’m afraid a Cross Country run would be far too much for me. I’d get dizzy.

Include a few trees as obstacles and I’d have a crack. But not Cross Country against a Hare. Oh no!

Dog: They are with me. Or they think they are

Slipped your lead again, eh?

Dog: Four—when you can see them.

Tail? (Sort Of) Head? (Sometimes) Eyes?

Dog: That’s him. See what I mean?

But it’s not alive is it?

Dog: So he should’ve—he left last night.

Run away from the humans has he?

Tortoise: I find it convenient. It saves going home every night.

Ah, you’re a relative of the Snails, I take it.

Tortoise: One pines for a friendly chat now and then.

I thought the humans were forever talking to the Garden Animals.

Badger: Delighted to have you just whenever.

By all means. You must visit my Tree one evening: we’ll have a bit of a crack.

Hare: This great lump of whatever it is!

Shell. You know Fleet—like snails, only bigger. Terrapins and Turtles—same idea. Carry your house with you.

Hare: Where’s Reynard?

Not coming. Laid up with a bit of a sprained paw.

Tortoise: Then I would be the winner. Mr. Fleet beaten at last.

That would be a tid-bit of news throughout the Woodlands.

Hedgehog: And you cant win if you don’t run.

Mr. Fleet refuses a challenge from a stranger!

Dog: They are calling me.

Oughtn’t you go?

Hare: They run like beetles

I don’t mind if I’m in my tree. They’ve no idea of climbing.

Hare: Then we can start this Cross Country Race.

At last.

Hedgehog: You won’t beat him standing here.

He’s just pacing himself. You see, he’ll come strong at the end.

Rabbit: Go on Mr. Sloe—go on!

Run up old fellow!

Good-Good Earthworks, he’s coming back!

Keep, going Fleet!

Hare: I can be. I always am.

Hardly the time for a meal, I would have thought.

Mr. Brush—your Tree.

Roger.

Badger. Well that’s that off you go.

I’ll report here as soon as they’ve passed me