Weeks went by; and still Nimble's mother said no more about visiting Farmer Green's carrot patch. Nimble himself did not dare to mention carrots now. It was his own fault that the excursion had been postponed¹. And much as he still wanted a taste of carrots the whole affair was something he didn't care to talk about.  
Anyhow, it was lucky that he liked water lilies. For his mother took him to the lake behind Blue Mountain every night, almost. And there they splashed in the shallows and ate all they wanted.
 
Most of those nights were much alike. But there was one that Nimble remembered for many a day afterward².
 
It was not a dark night; neither was it a light one. It was a half-and-half sort of night. There was a moon. But it was far from full. And it was not high in the sky. The light from it came slanting³ down upon the lake, throwing the shadows of the trees far out upon the water.
 
Where those shadows reached out darkly Nimble and his mother stood with the water lapping their sleek⁴ bodies. And they were eating so busily that neither of them noticed a blurred⁵ shape that glided⁶ slowly nearer and nearer to them, without making the slightest sound.
 
All at once a shaft⁷ of dazzling light swept along the shore. Nimble was so surprised and puzzled that he stopped eating to stand still and gaze at it.
 
But only for a moment! Instantly his mother flung her tail upward, so that the under side of it gleamed white even in the half light. And that—as Nimble knew right well—that was the danger signal.
 
Almost before Nimble knew what was happening his mother made for the shore. As she plunged⁸ through the water her tail, still aloft like a flag, twitched⁹ from side to side.
 
Nimble needed no urging to follow it. Soon they scrambled¹⁰, dripping, out of the lake to dive headlong into the cover of the overhanging willows¹¹.
 
In those few seconds the light darted¹² swiftly towards them. But it was not quite quick enough. Only the ripples¹³ told where they had been standing¹⁴. Only the gently waving branches of the willows showed where Nimble and his mother had vanished.
 
A noise like a thunder-clap crashed upon Nimble's ears and rolled and tumbled in the distance, tossed from the mountain to the hills across the lake, and back again. It frightened Nimble much more than did the odd whistle that whined¹⁵ just above his head a moment before the thunder peal¹⁶.
 
Never had he run so fast before. Never had his mother set such a pace for him. Usually, when startled, she stopped after going a short distance and looked back to try to get a glimpse of whoever or whatever had alarmed her. To be sure, she always stopped in a good place, like the edge of Cedar¹⁷ Swamp, where she could duck out of sight if need be.
 
But this time Nimble's mother ran on and on without pausing.
 
"Haven't you forgotten something?" her son gasped¹⁸ after a while.
 
"Forgotten something? What do you mean?" she asked.
 
"Haven't you forgotten to stop?" Nimble inquired.
 
A queer look came over her face.
 
"I declare," she said, "I do believe I'd Have run all night if you hadn't reminded me." She fell into a walk. And neither of them said another word until they reached the swamp, which was one of his mother's favorite hiding places. Then Nimble spoke¹⁹ again.
 
"I waved my flag too," he said proudly.