Yes, there he was.

So she had to take refuge once more on the hated and treacherous scarecrow.
But no sooner had she done so, alighting with open beak and half-spread, quivering wings, than the rat came darting up the leg of the scarecrow's ragged trousers and pounced at her.

She _just_ escaped, and that was all, leaping into the air with a squawk of terror and flapping there violently at the end of those six feet of free cord.
"It was a horrifying position for her, let me tell you--" "I guess _so_!" muttered the Babe in spite of himself, wagging his head sympathetically.

He did not like rats.
"She was too frightened to save her strength, of course, and so kept flapping with all her might, as if she thought to fly away with scarecrow and all.

The rat, however, was impatient.