The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wind in the Willows, by Kenneth Grahame

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Title: The Wind in the Willows

Author: Kenneth Grahame

Posting Date: July 12, 2008 [EBook #289]

Release Date: July, 1995

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS ***

Produced by Mike Lough

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

By Kenneth Grahame

Author Of "The Golden Age," "Dream Days," Etc.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER
I. THE RIVER BANK
II. THE OPEN ROAD
III. THE WILD WOOD
IV. MR. BADGER
V. DULCE DOMUM
VI. MR. TOAD
VII. THE PIPER AT THE GATES OF DAWN
VIII. TOAD’S ADVENTURES
IX. WAYFARERS ALL
X. THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF TOAD
XI. "LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS CAME HIS TEARS"
XII. THE RETURN OF ULYSSES

I. THE RIVER BANK

The Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring-cleaning his
little home. First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders and
steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash; till he had dust
in his throat and eyes, and splashes of whitewash all over his black
fur, and an aching back and weary arms. Spring was moving in the air
above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark
and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing.
It was small wonder, then, that he suddenly flung down his brush on the
floor, said ’Bother!’ and ’O blow!’ and also ’Hang spring-cleaning!’
and bolted out of the house without even waiting to put on his coat.
Something up above was calling him imperiously, and he made for
the steep little tunnel which answered in his case to the gaveled
carriage-drive owned by animals whose residences are nearer to the sun
and air. So he scraped and scratched and scrabbled and scrooged and
then he scrooged again and scrabbled and scratched and scraped, working
busily with his little paws and muttering to himself, ’Up we go! Up we
go!’ till at last, pop! his snout came out into the sunlight, and he
found himself rolling in the warm grass of a great meadow.

’This is fine!’ he said to himself. ’This is better than whitewashing!’

The sunshine struck hot on his fur, soft breezes caressed his heated
brow, and after the seclusion of the cellarage he had lived in so long
the carol of happy birds fell on his dulled hearing almost like a shout.
Jumping off all his four legs at once, in the joy of living and the
delight of spring without its cleaning, he pursued his way across the
meadow till he reached the hedge on the further side.

’Hold up!’ said an elderly rabbit at the gap. ’Sixpence for the
privilege of passing by the private road!’ He was bowled over in an
instant by the impatient and contemptuous Mole, who trotted along the
side of the hedge chaffing the other rabbits as they peeped hurriedly
from their holes to see what the row was about. ’Onion-sauce!
Onion-sauce!’ he remarked jeeringly, and was gone before they could
think of a thoroughly satisfactory reply. Then they all started
grumbling at each other. ’How STUPID you are! Why didn’t you tell
him----’ ’Well, why didn’t YOU say----’ ’You might have reminded
him----’ and so on, in the usual way; but, of course, it was then much
too late, as is always the case.

It all seemed too good to be true. Hither and thither through the
meadows he rambled busily, along the hedgerows, across the
copses, finding everywhere birds building, flowers budding, leaves
thrusting--everything happy, and progressive, and occupied. And instead
of having an uneasy conscience pricking him and whispering ’whitewash!’
he somehow could only feel how jolly it was to be the only idle dog
among all these busy citizens. After all, the best part of a holiday
is perhaps not so much to be resting yourself, as to see all the other
fellows busy working.

He thought his happiness was complete when, as he meandered aimlessly

along, suddenly he stood by the edge of a full-fed river. Never in
his life had he seen a river before--this sleek, sinuous, full-bodied
animal, chasing and chuckling, gripping things with a gurgle and
leaving them with a laugh, to fling itself on fresh playmates that shook
themselves free, and were caught and held again. All was a-shake and
a-shiver--glints and gleams and sparkles, rustle and swirl, chatter and
bubble. The Mole was bewitched, entranced, fascinated. By the side of
the river he trotted as one trots, when very small, by the side of a man
who holds one spell-bound by exciting stories; and when tired at
last, he sat on the bank, while the river still chattered on to him,
a babbling procession of the best stories in the world, sent from the
heart of the earth to be told at last to the insatiable sea.

As he sat on the grass and looked across the river, a dark hole in the
bank opposite, just above the water’s edge, caught his eye, and dreamily
he fell to considering what a nice snug dwelling-place it would make for
an animal with few wants and fond of a bijou riverside residence, above
flood level and remote from noise and dust. As he gazed, something
bright and small seemed to twinkle down in the heart of it, vanished,
then twinkled once more like a tiny star. But it could hardly be a star
in such an unlikely situation; and it was too glittering and small for a
glow-worm. Then, as he looked, it winked at him, and so declared itself
to be an eye; and a small face began gradually to grow up round it, like
a frame round a picture.

A brown little face, with whiskers.

A grave round face, with the same twinkle in its eye that had first
attracted his notice.

Small neat ears and thick silky hair.

It was the Water Rat!

Then the two animals stood and regarded each other cautiously.

’Hullo, Mole!’ said the Water Rat.

’Hullo, Rat!’ said the Mole.

’Would you like to come over?’ enquired the Rat presently.

’Oh, its all very well to TALK,’ said the Mole, rather pettishly, he
being new to a river and riverside life and its ways.

The Rat said nothing, but stooped and unfastened a rope and hauled
on it; then lightly stepped into a little boat which the Mole had not
observed. It was painted blue outside and white within, and was just the
size for two animals; and the Mole’s whole heart went out to it at once,
even though he did not yet fully understand its uses.

The Rat sculled smartly across and made fast. Then he held up his
forepaw as the Mole stepped gingerly down. ’Lean on that!’ he said.
’Now then, step lively!’ and the Mole to his surprise and rapture found
himself actually seated in the stern of a real boat.

’This has been a wonderful day!’ said he, as the Rat shoved off and took
to the sculls again. ’Do you know, I’ve never been in a boat before in
all my life.’

’What?’ cried the Rat, open-mouthed: ’Never been in a--you never--well

I--what have you been doing, then?’

’Is it so nice as all that?’ asked the Mole shyly, though he was quite
prepared to believe it as he leant back in his seat and surveyed the
cushions, the oars, the rowlocks, and all the fascinating fittings, and
felt the boat sway lightly under him.

’Nice? It’s the ONLY thing,’ said the Water Rat solemnly, as he
leant forward for his stroke. ’Believe me, my young friend, there is
NOTHING--absolute nothing--half so much worth doing as simply
messing about in boats. Simply messing,’ he went on dreamily:
’messing--about--in--boats; messing----’

’Look ahead, Rat!’ cried the Mole suddenly.

It was too late. The boat struck the bank full tilt. The dreamer, the
joyous oarsman, lay on his back at the bottom of the boat, his heels in
the air.

’--about in boats--or WITH boats,’ the Rat went on composedly, picking

himself up with a pleasant laugh. ’In or out of ’em, it doesn’t matter.
Nothing seems really to matter, that’s the charm of it. Whether you get
away, or whether you don’t; whether you arrive at your destination or
whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get anywhere at
all, you’re always busy, and you never do anything in particular; and
when you’ve done it there’s always something else to do, and you can do
it if you like, but you’d much better not. Look here! If you’ve really
nothing else on hand this morning, supposing we drop down the river
together, and have a long day of it?’

The Mole waggled his toes from sheer happiness, spread his chest with
a sigh of full contentment, and leaned back blissfully into the soft
cushions. ’WHAT a day I’m having!’ he said. ’Let us start at once!’

’Hold hard a minute, then!’ said the Rat. He looped the painter through
a ring in his landing-stage, climbed up into his hole above, and after
a short interval reappeared staggering under a fat, wicker
luncheon-basket.

’Shove that under your feet,’ he observed to the Mole, as he passed

it down into the boat. Then he untied the painter and took the sculls
again.

’What’s inside it?’ asked the Mole, wriggling with curiosity.

’There’s cold chicken inside it,’ replied the Rat briefly;

’coldtonguecoldhamcoldbeefpickledgherkinssaladfrenchrollscresssan
dwichespottedmeatgingerbeerlemonadesodawater----’

’O stop, stop,’ cried the Mole in ecstacies: ’This is too much!’

’Do you really think so?’ enquired the Rat seriously. ’It’s only what I
always take on these little excursions; and the other animals are always
telling me that I’m a mean beast and cut it VERY fine!’

The Mole never heard a word he was saying. Absorbed in the new life he
was entering upon, intoxicated with the sparkle, the ripple, the scents
and the sounds and the sunlight, he trailed a paw in the water and
dreamed long waking dreams. The Water Rat, like the good little fellow
he was, sculled steadily on and forebore to disturb him.

’I like your clothes awfully, old chap,’ he remarked after some half
an hour or so had passed. ’I’m going to get a black velvet smoking-suit
myself some day, as soon as I can afford it.’

’I beg your pardon,’ said the Mole, pulling himself together with an
effort. ’You must think me very rude; but all this is so new to me.
So--this--is--a--River!’
’THE River,’ corrected the Rat.

’And you really live by the river? What a jolly life!’

’By it and with it and on it and in it,’ said the Rat. ’It’s brother
and sister to me, and aunts, and company, and food and drink, and
(naturally) washing. It’s my world, and I don’t want any other. What it
hasn’t got is not worth having, and what it doesn’t know is not worth
knowing. Lord! the times we’ve had together! Whether in winter or
summer, spring or autumn, it’s always got its fun and its excitements.
When the floods are on in February, and my cellars and basement are
brimming with drink that’s no good to me, and the brown water runs by my
best bedroom window; or again when it all drops away and, shows patches
of mud that smells like plum-cake, and the rushes and weed clog the
channels, and I can potter about dry shod over most of the bed of it and
find fresh food to eat, and things careless people have dropped out of
boats!’

’But isn’t it a bit dull at times?’ the Mole ventured to ask. ’Just you
and the river, and no one else to pass a word with?’

’No one else to--well, I mustn’t be hard on you,’ said the Rat with
forbearance. ’You’re new to it, and of course you don’t know. The bank
is so crowded nowadays that many people are moving away altogether: O
no, it isn’t what it used to be, at all. Otters, kingfishers, dabchicks,
moorhens, all of them about all day long and always wanting you to DO
something--as if a fellow had no business of his own to attend to!’

’What lies over THERE’ asked the Mole, waving a paw towards a background
of woodland that darkly framed the water-meadows on one side of the
river.

’That? O, that’s just the Wild Wood,’ said the Rat shortly. ’We don’t go
there very much, we river-bankers.’

’Aren’t they--aren’t they very NICE people in there?’ said the Mole, a
trifle nervously.

’W-e-ll,’ replied the Rat, ’let me see. The squirrels are all right. AND
the rabbits--some of ’em, but rabbits are a mixed lot. And then there’s
Badger, of course. He lives right in the heart of it; wouldn’t live
anywhere else, either, if you paid him to do it. Dear old Badger! Nobody
interferes with HIM. They’d better not,’ he added significantly.

’Why, who SHOULD interfere with him?’ asked the Mole.

’Well, of course--there--are others,’ explained the Rat in a hesitating

sort of way.

’Weasels--and stoats--and foxes--and so on. They’re all right in a

way--I’m very good friends with them--pass the time of day when we meet,
and all that--but they break out sometimes, there’s no denying it, and
then--well, you can’t really trust them, and that’s the fact.’

The Mole knew well that it is quite against animal-etiquette to dwell

on possible trouble ahead, or even to allude to it; so he dropped the
subject.

’And beyond the Wild Wood again?’ he asked: ’Where it’s all blue
and dim, and one sees what may be hills or perhaps they mayn’t, and
something like the smoke of towns, or is it only cloud-drift?’

’Beyond the Wild Wood comes the Wide World,’ said the Rat. ’And that’s
something that doesn’t matter, either to you or me. I’ve never been
there, and I’m never going, nor you either, if you’ve got any sense
at all. Don’t ever refer to it again, please. Now then! Here’s our
backwater at last, where we’re going to lunch.’

Leaving the main stream, they now passed into what seemed at first sight
like a little land-locked lake. Green turf sloped down to either edge,
brown snaky tree-roots gleamed below the surface of the quiet water,
while ahead of them the silvery shoulder and foamy tumble of a weir,
arm-in-arm with a restless dripping mill-wheel, that held up in its
turn a grey-gabled mill-house, filled the air with a soothing murmur
of sound, dull and smothery, yet with little clear voices speaking up
cheerfully out of it at intervals. It was so very beautiful that the
Mole could only hold up both forepaws and gasp, ’O my! O my! O my!’

The Rat brought the boat alongside the bank, made her fast, helped the
still awkward Mole safely ashore, and swung out the luncheon-basket. The
Mole begged as a favour to be allowed to unpack it all by himself; and
the Rat was very pleased to indulge him, and to sprawl at full length on
the grass and rest, while his excited friend shook out the table-cloth
and spread it, took out all the mysterious packets one by one and
arranged their contents in due order, still gasping, ’O my! O my!’ at
each fresh revelation. When all was ready, the Rat said, ’Now, pitch
in, old fellow!’ and the Mole was indeed very glad to obey, for he had
started his spring-cleaning at a very early hour that morning, as people
WILL do, and had not paused for bite or sup; and he had been through a
very great deal since that distant time which now seemed so many days
ago.

’What are you looking at?’ said the Rat presently, when the edge of
their hunger was somewhat dulled, and the Mole’s eyes were able to
wander off the table-cloth a little.

’I am looking,’ said the Mole, ’at a streak of bubbles that I see

travelling along the surface of the water. That is a thing that strikes
me as funny.’

’Bubbles? Oho!’ said the Rat, and chirruped cheerily in an inviting sort
of way.

A broad glistening muzzle showed itself above the edge of the bank, and
the Otter hauled himself out and shook the water from his coat.

’Greedy beggars!’ he observed, making for the provender. ’Why didn’t you
invite me, Ratty?’

’This was an impromptu affair,’ explained the Rat. ’By the way--my
friend Mr. Mole.’

’Proud, I’m sure,’ said the Otter, and the two animals were friends
forthwith.

’Such a rumpus everywhere!’ continued the Otter. ’All the world seems
out on the river to-day. I came up this backwater to try and get a
moment’s peace, and then stumble upon you fellows!--At least--I beg
pardon--I don’t exactly mean that, you know.’
There was a rustle behind them, proceeding from a hedge wherein last
year’s leaves still clung thick, and a stripy head, with high shoulders
behind it, peered forth on them.

’Come on, old Badger!’ shouted the Rat.

The Badger trotted forward a pace or two; then grunted, ’H’m! Company,’
and turned his back and disappeared from view.

’That’s JUST the sort of fellow he is!’ observed the disappointed Rat.
’Simply hates Society! Now we shan’t see any more of him to-day. Well,
tell us, WHO’S out on the river?’

’Toad’s out, for one,’ replied the Otter. ’In his brand-new wager-boat;
new togs, new everything!’

The two animals looked at each other and laughed.

’Once, it was nothing but sailing,’ said the Rat, ’Then he tired of that
and took to punting. Nothing would please him but to punt all day
and every day, and a nice mess he made of it. Last year it was
house-boating, and we all had to go and stay with him in his house-boat,
and pretend we liked it. He was going to spend the rest of his life in
a house-boat. It’s all the same, whatever he takes up; he gets tired of
it, and starts on something fresh.’

’Such a good fellow, too,’ remarked the Otter reflectively: ’But no

stability--especially in a boat!’

From where they sat they could get a glimpse of the main stream across
the island that separated them; and just then a wager-boat flashed into
view, the rower--a short, stout figure--splashing badly and rolling a
good deal, but working his hardest. The Rat stood up and hailed him, but
Toad--for it was he--shook his head and settled sternly to his work.

’He’ll be out of the boat in a minute if he rolls like that,’ said the
Rat, sitting down again.

’Of course he will,’ chuckled the Otter. ’Did I ever tell you that good
story about Toad and the lock-keeper? It happened this way. Toad....’

An errant May-fly swerved unsteadily athwart the current in the

intoxicated fashion affected by young bloods of May-flies seeing life. A
swirl of water and a ’cloop!’ and the May-fly was visible no more.

Neither was the Otter.

The Mole looked down. The voice was still in his ears, but the turf
whereon he had sprawled was clearly vacant. Not an Otter to be seen, as
far as the distant horizon.

But again there was a streak of bubbles on the surface of the river.

The Rat hummed a tune, and the Mole recollected that animal-etiquette
forbade any sort of comment on the sudden disappearance of one’s friends
at any moment, for any reason or no reason whatever.

’Well, well,’ said the Rat, ’I suppose we ought to be moving. I wonder

which of us had better pack the luncheon-basket?’ He did not speak as if
he was frightfully eager for the treat.

’O, please let me,’ said the Mole. So, of course, the Rat let him.

Packing the basket was not quite such pleasant work as unpacking’ the
basket. It never is. But the Mole was bent on enjoying everything, and
although just when he had got the basket packed and strapped up tightly
he saw a plate staring up at him from the grass, and when the job had
been done again the Rat pointed out a fork which anybody ought to
have seen, and last of all, behold! the mustard pot, which he had been
sitting on without knowing it--still, somehow, the thing got finished at
last, without much loss of temper.

The afternoon sun was getting low as the Rat sculled gently homewards in
a dreamy mood, murmuring poetry-things over to himself, and not paying
much attention to Mole. But the Mole was very full of lunch, and
self-satisfaction, and pride, and already quite at home in a boat (so he
thought) and was getting a bit restless besides: and presently he said,
’Ratty! Please, _I_ want to row, now!’

The Rat shook his head with a smile. ’Not yet, my young friend,’ he
said--’wait till you’ve had a few lessons. It’s not so easy as it
looks.’

The Mole was quiet for a minute or two. But he began to feel more and
more jealous of Rat, sculling so strongly and so easily along, and his
pride began to whisper that he could do it every bit as well. He jumped
up and seized the sculls, so suddenly, that the Rat, who was gazing out
over the water and saying more poetry-things to himself, was taken by
surprise and fell backwards off his seat with his legs in the air for
the second time, while the triumphant Mole took his place and grabbed
the sculls with entire confidence.

’Stop it, you SILLY ass!’ cried the Rat, from the bottom of the boat.
’You can’t do it! You’ll have us over!’

The Mole flung his sculls back with a flourish, and made a great dig at
the water. He missed the surface altogether, his legs flew up above
his head, and he found himself lying on the top of the prostrate Rat.
Greatly alarmed, he made a grab at the side of the boat, and the next
moment--Sploosh!

Over went the boat, and he found himself struggling in the river.

O my, how cold the water was, and O, how VERY wet it felt. How it sang
in his ears as he went down, down, down! How bright and welcome the sun
looked as he rose to the surface coughing and spluttering! How black was
his despair when he felt himself sinking again! Then a firm paw gripped
him by the back of his neck. It was the Rat, and he was evidently
laughing--the Mole could FEEL him laughing, right down his arm and
through his paw, and so into his--the Mole’s--neck.

The Rat got hold of a scull and shoved it under the Mole’s arm; then he
did the same by the other side of him and, swimming behind, propelled
the helpless animal to shore, hauled him out, and set him down on the
bank, a squashy, pulpy lump of misery.

When the Rat had rubbed him down a bit, and wrung some of the wet out of
him, he said, ’Now, then, old fellow! Trot up and down the towing-path
as hard as you can, till you’re warm and dry again, while I dive for the
luncheon-basket.’

So the dismal Mole, wet without and ashamed within, trotted about till
he was fairly dry, while the Rat plunged into the water again, recovered
the boat, righted her and made her fast, fetched his floating
property to shore by degrees, and finally dived successfully for the
luncheon-basket and struggled to land with it.

When all was ready for a start once more, the Mole, limp and dejected,
took his seat in the stern of the boat; and as they set off, he said in
a low voice, broken with emotion, ’Ratty, my generous friend! I am very
sorry indeed for my foolish and ungrateful conduct. My heart quite fails
me when I think how I might have lost that beautiful luncheon-basket.
Indeed, I have been a complete ass, and I know it. Will you overlook it
this once and forgive me, and let things go on as before?’

’That’s all right, bless you!’ responded the Rat cheerily. ’What’s a
little wet to a Water Rat? I’m more in the water than out of it most
days. Don’t you think any more about it; and, look here! I really think
you had better come and stop with me for a little time. It’s very plain
and rough, you know--not like Toad’s house at all--but you haven’t seen
that yet; still, I can make you comfortable. And I’ll teach you to row,
and to swim, and you’ll soon be as handy on the water as any of us.’

The Mole was so touched by his kind manner of speaking that he could
find no voice to answer him; and he had to brush away a tear or two with
the back of his paw. But the Rat kindly looked in another direction, and
presently the Mole’s spirits revived again, and he was even able to give
some straight back-talk to a couple of moorhens who were sniggering to
each other about his bedraggled appearance.

When they got home, the Rat made a bright fire in the parlour, and
planted the Mole in an arm-chair in front of it, having fetched down
a dressing-gown and slippers for him, and told him river stories till
supper-time. Very thrilling stories they were, too, to an earth-dwelling
animal like Mole. Stories about weirs, and sudden floods, and leaping
pike, and steamers that flung hard bottles--at least bottles were
certainly flung, and FROM steamers, so presumably BY them; and about
herons, and how particular they were whom they spoke to; and about
adventures down drains, and night-fishings with Otter, or excursions far
a-field with Badger. Supper was a most cheerful meal; but very shortly
afterwards a terribly sleepy Mole had to be escorted upstairs by his
considerate host, to the best bedroom, where he soon laid his head on
his pillow in great peace and contentment, knowing that his new-found
friend the River was lapping the sill of his window.

This day was only the first of many similar ones for the emancipated
Mole, each of them longer and full of interest as the ripening summer
moved onward. He learnt to swim and to row, and entered into the joy
of running water; and with his ear to the reed-stems he caught, at
intervals, something of what the wind went whispering so constantly
among them.

II. THE OPEN ROAD

’Ratty,’ said the Mole suddenly, one bright summer morning, ’if you
please, I want to ask you a favour.’

The Rat was sitting on the river bank, singing a little song. He had
just composed it himself, so he was very taken up with it, and would not
pay proper attention to Mole or anything else. Since early morning he
had been swimming in the river, in company with his friends the ducks.
And when the ducks stood on their heads suddenly, as ducks will, he
would dive down and tickle their necks, just under where their chins
would be if ducks had chins, till they were forced to come to the
surface again in a hurry, spluttering and angry and shaking their
feathers at him, for it is impossible to say quite ALL you feel when
your head is under water. At last they implored him to go away and
attend to his own affairs and leave them to mind theirs. So the Rat went
away, and sat on the river bank in the sun, and made up a song about
them, which he called

’DUCKS’ DITTY.’ All along the backwater, Through the rushes tall, Ducks
are a-dabbling, Up tails all!

Ducks’ tails, drakes’ tails, Yellow feet a-quiver, Yellow bills all out
of sight Busy in the river!

Slushy green undergrowth Where the roach swim--Here we keep our larder,
Cool and full and dim.

Everyone for what he likes! WE like to be Heads down, tails up, Dabbling
free!

High in the blue above Swifts whirl and call--WE are down a-dabbling Up
tails all!

’I don’t know that I think so VERY much of that little song, Rat,’
observed the Mole cautiously. He was no poet himself and didn’t care who
knew it; and he had a candid nature.

’Nor don’t the ducks neither,’ replied the Rat cheerfully. ’They say,
"WHY can’t fellows be allowed to do what they like WHEN they like and AS
they like, instead of other fellows sitting on banks and watching them
all the time and making remarks and poetry and things about them? What
NONSENSE it all is!" That’s what the ducks say.’

’So it is, so it is,’ said the Mole, with great heartiness.

’No, it isn’t!’ cried the Rat indignantly.

’Well then, it isn’t, it isn’t,’ replied the Mole soothingly. ’But what
I wanted to ask you was, won’t you take me to call on Mr. Toad? I’ve
heard so much about him, and I do so want to make his acquaintance.’

’Why, certainly,’ said the good-natured Rat, jumping to his feet and
dismissing poetry from his mind for the day. ’Get the boat out, and
we’ll paddle up there at once. It’s never the wrong time to call on
Toad. Early or late he’s always the same fellow. Always good-tempered,
always glad to see you, always sorry when you go!’

’He must be a very nice animal,’ observed the Mole, as he got into the
boat and took the sculls, while the Rat settled himself comfortably in
the stern.
’He is indeed the best of animals,’ replied Rat. ’So simple, so
good-natured, and so affectionate. Perhaps he’s not very clever--we
can’t all be geniuses; and it may be that he is both boastful and
conceited. But he has got some great qualities, has Toady.’

Rounding a bend in the river, they came in sight of a handsome,

dignified old house of mellowed red brick, with well-kept lawns reaching
down to the water’s edge.

’There’s Toad Hall,’ said the Rat; ’and that creek on the left, where
the notice-board says, "Private. No landing allowed," leads to his
boat-house, where we’ll leave the boat. The stables are over there to
the right. That’s the banqueting-hall you’re looking at now--very old,
that is. Toad is rather rich, you know, and this is really one of the
nicest houses in these parts, though we never admit as much to Toad.’

They glided up the creek, and the Mole slipped his sculls as they passed
into the shadow of a large boat-house. Here they saw many handsome
boats, slung from the cross beams or hauled up on a slip, but none in
the water; and the place had an unused and a deserted air.

The Rat looked around him. ’I understand,’ said he. ’Boating is played
out. He’s tired of it, and done with it. I wonder what new fad he has
taken up now? Come along and let’s look him up. We shall hear all about
it quite soon enough.’

They disembarked, and strolled across the gay flower-decked lawns in

search of Toad, whom they presently happened upon resting in a wicker
garden-chair, with a pre-occupied expression of face, and a large map
spread out on his knees.

’Hooray!’ he cried, jumping up on seeing them, ’this is splendid!’ He

shook the paws of both of them warmly, never waiting for an introduction
to the Mole. ’How KIND of you!’ he went on, dancing round them. ’I was
just going to send a boat down the river for you, Ratty, with strict
orders that you were to be fetched up here at once, whatever you were
doing. I want you badly--both of you. Now what will you take? Come
inside and have something! You don’t know how lucky it is, your turning
up just now!’

’Let’s sit quiet a bit, Toady!’ said the Rat, throwing himself into an
easy chair, while the Mole took another by the side of him and made some
civil remark about Toad’s ’delightful residence.’

’Finest house on the whole river,’ cried Toad boisterously. ’Or anywhere
else, for that matter,’ he could not help adding.

Here the Rat nudged the Mole. Unfortunately the Toad saw him do it, and
turned very red. There was a moment’s painful silence. Then Toad burst
out laughing. ’All right, Ratty,’ he said. ’It’s only my way, you know.
And it’s not such a very bad house, is it? You know you rather like it
yourself. Now, look here. Let’s be sensible. You are the very animals I
wanted. You’ve got to help me. It’s most important!’

’It’s about your rowing, I suppose,’ said the Rat, with an innocent air.
’You’re getting on fairly well, though you splash a good bit still. With
a great deal of patience, and any quantity of coaching, you may----’

’O, pooh! boating!’ interrupted the Toad, in great disgust. Silly boyish
amusement. I’ve given that up LONG ago. Sheer waste of time, that’s what
it is. It makes me downright sorry to see you fellows, who ought to
know better, spending all your energies in that aimless manner. No, I’ve
discovered the real thing, the only genuine occupation for a life time.
I propose to devote the remainder of mine to it, and can only regret the
wasted years that lie behind me, squandered in trivialities. Come with
me, dear Ratty, and your amiable friend also, if he will be so very
good, just as far as the stable-yard, and you shall see what you shall
see!’

He led the way to the stable-yard accordingly, the Rat following with
a most mistrustful expression; and there, drawn out of the coach house
into the open, they saw a gipsy caravan, shining with newness, painted a
canary-yellow picked out with green, and red wheels.

’There you are!’ cried the Toad, straddling and expanding himself.
’There’s real life for you, embodied in that little cart. The open road,
the dusty highway, the heath, the common, the hedgerows, the rolling
downs! Camps, villages, towns, cities! Here to-day, up and off to
somewhere else to-morrow! Travel, change, interest, excitement! The
whole world before you, and a horizon that’s always changing! And mind!
this is the very finest cart of its sort that was ever built, without
any exception. Come inside and look at the arrangements. Planned ’em all
myself, I did!’

The Mole was tremendously interested and excited, and followed him
eagerly up the steps and into the interior of the caravan. The Rat only
snorted and thrust his hands deep into his pockets, remaining where he
was.

It was indeed very compact and comfortable. Little sleeping bunks--a

little table that folded up against the wall--a cooking-stove, lockers,
bookshelves, a bird-cage with a bird in it; and pots, pans, jugs and
kettles of every size and variety.

’All complete!’ said the Toad triumphantly, pulling open a locker. ’You
see--biscuits, potted lobster, sardines--everything you can possibly
want. Soda-water here--baccy there--letter-paper, bacon, jam, cards and
dominoes--you’ll find,’ he continued, as they descended the steps again,
’you’ll find that nothing what ever has been forgotten, when we make our
start this afternoon.’

’I beg your pardon,’ said the Rat slowly, as he chewed a straw, ’but
did I overhear you say something about "WE," and "START," and "THIS
AFTERNOON?"’

’Now, you dear good old Ratty,’ said Toad, imploringly, ’don’t begin
talking in that stiff and sniffy sort of way, because you know you’ve
GOT to come. I can’t possibly manage without you, so please consider it
settled, and don’t argue--it’s the one thing I can’t stand. You surely
don’t mean to stick to your dull fusty old river all your life, and just
live in a hole in a bank, and BOAT? I want to show you the world! I’m
going to make an ANIMAL of you, my boy!’

’I don’t care,’ said the Rat, doggedly. ’I’m not coming, and that’s
flat. And I AM going to stick to my old river, AND live in a hole, AND
boat, as I’ve always done. And what’s more, Mole’s going to stick me and
do as I do, aren’t you, Mole?’

’Of course I am,’ said the Mole, loyally. ’I’ll always stick to you,
Rat, and what you say is to be--has got to be. All the same, it sounds
as if it might have been--well, rather fun, you know!’ he added,
wistfully. Poor Mole! The Life Adventurous was so new a thing to him,
and so thrilling; and this fresh aspect of it was so tempting; and he
had fallen in love at first sight with the canary-coloured cart and all
its little fitments.

The Rat saw what was passing in his mind, and wavered. He hated
disappointing people, and he was fond of the Mole, and would do almost
anything to oblige him. Toad was watching both of them closely.

’Come along in, and have some lunch,’ he said, diplomatically, ’and
we’ll talk it over. We needn’t decide anything in a hurry. Of course,
_I_ don’t really care. I only want to give pleasure to you fellows.
"Live for others!" That’s my motto in life.’

During luncheon--which was excellent, of course, as everything at Toad

Hall always was--the Toad simply let himself go. Disregarding the Rat,
he proceeded to play upon the inexperienced Mole as on a harp. Naturally
a voluble animal, and always mastered by his imagination, he painted the
prospects of the trip and the joys of the open life and the roadside
in such glowing colours that the Mole could hardly sit in his chair for
excitement. Somehow, it soon seemed taken for granted by all three
of them that the trip was a settled thing; and the Rat, though still
unconvinced in his mind, allowed his good-nature to over-ride his
personal objections. He could not bear to disappoint his two friends,
who were already deep in schemes and anticipations, planning out each
day’s separate occupation for several weeks ahead.

When they were quite ready, the now triumphant Toad led his companions
to the paddock and set them to capture the old grey horse, who, without
having been consulted, and to his own extreme annoyance, had been told
off by Toad for the dustiest job in this dusty expedition. He frankly
preferred the paddock, and took a deal of catching. Meantime Toad packed
the lockers still tighter with necessaries, and hung nosebags, nets of
onions, bundles of hay, and baskets from the bottom of the cart. At last
the horse was caught and harnessed, and they set off, all talking at
once, each animal either trudging by the side of the cart or sitting on
the shaft, as the humour took him. It was a golden afternoon. The
smell of the dust they kicked up was rich and satisfying; out of thick
orchards on either side the road, birds called and whistled to them
cheerily; good-natured wayfarers, passing them, gave them ’Good-day,’
or stopped to say nice things about their beautiful cart; and rabbits,
sitting at their front doors in the hedgerows, held up their fore-paws,
and said, ’O my! O my! O my!’

Late in the evening, tired and happy and miles from home, they drew
up on a remote common far from habitations, turned the horse loose to
graze, and ate their simple supper sitting on the grass by the side of
the cart. Toad talked big about all he was going to do in the days to
come, while stars grew fuller and larger all around them, and a yellow
moon, appearing suddenly and silently from nowhere in particular, came
to keep them company and listen to their talk. At last they turned in to
their little bunks in the cart; and Toad, kicking out his legs, sleepily
said, ’Well, good night, you fellows! This is the real life for a
gentleman! Talk about your old river!’

’I DON’T talk about my river,’ replied the patient Rat. ’You KNOW I
don’t, Toad. But I THINK about it,’ he added pathetically, in a lower
tone: ’I think about it--all the time!’
The Mole reached out from under his blanket, felt for the Rat’s paw in
the darkness, and gave it a squeeze. ’I’ll do whatever you like, Ratty,’
he whispered. ’Shall we run away to-morrow morning, quite early--VERY
early--and go back to our dear old hole on the river?’

’No, no, we’ll see it out,’ whispered back the Rat. ’Thanks awfully, but
I ought to stick by Toad till this trip is ended. It wouldn’t be safe
for him to be left to himself. It won’t take very long. His fads never
do. Good night!’

The end was indeed nearer than even the Rat suspected.

After so much open air and excitement the Toad slept very soundly, and
no amount of shaking could rouse him out of bed next morning. So the
Mole and Rat turned to, quietly and manfully, and while the Rat saw to
the horse, and lit a fire, and cleaned last night’s cups and platters,
and got things ready for breakfast, the Mole trudged off to the nearest
village, a long way off, for milk and eggs and various necessaries the
Toad had, of course, forgotten to provide. The hard work had all been
done, and the two animals were resting, thoroughly exhausted, by
the time Toad appeared on the scene, fresh and gay, remarking what a
pleasant easy life it was they were all leading now, after the cares and
worries and fatigues of housekeeping at home.

They had a pleasant ramble that day over grassy downs and along narrow
by-lanes, and camped as before, on a common, only this time the
two guests took care that Toad should do his fair share of work. In
consequence, when the time came for starting next morning, Toad was by
no means so rapturous about the simplicity of the primitive life, and
indeed attempted to resume his place in his bunk, whence he was hauled
by force. Their way lay, as before, across country by narrow lanes, and
it was not till the afternoon that they came out on the high-road, their
first high-road; and there disaster, fleet and unforeseen, sprang out
on them--disaster momentous indeed to their expedition, but simply
overwhelming in its effect on the after-career of Toad.

They were strolling along the high-road easily, the Mole by the horse’s
head, talking to him, since the horse had complained that he was being
frightfully left out of it, and nobody considered him in the least;
the Toad and the Water Rat walking behind the cart talking together--at
least Toad was talking, and Rat was saying at intervals, ’Yes,
precisely; and what did YOU say to HIM?’--and thinking all the time
of something very different, when far behind them they heard a faint
warning hum; like the drone of a distant bee. Glancing back, they saw a
small cloud of dust, with a dark centre of energy, advancing on them at
incredible speed, while from out the dust a faint ’Poop-poop!’ wailed
like an uneasy animal in pain. Hardly regarding it, they turned to
resume their conversation, when in an instant (as it seemed) the
peaceful scene was changed, and with a blast of wind and a whirl of
sound that made them jump for the nearest ditch, It was on them! The
’Poop-poop’ rang with a brazen shout in their ears, they had a moment’s
glimpse of an interior of glittering plate-glass and rich morocco, and
the magnificent motor-car, immense, breath-snatching, passionate, with
its pilot tense and hugging his wheel, possessed all earth and air for
the fraction of a second, flung an enveloping cloud of dust that blinded
and enwrapped them utterly, and then dwindled to a speck in the far
distance, changed back into a droning bee once more.

The old grey horse, dreaming, as he plodded along, of his quiet paddock,
in a new raw situation such as this simply abandoned himself to his
natural emotions. Rearing, plunging, backing steadily, in spite of
all the Mole’s efforts at his head, and all the Mole’s lively language
directed at his better feelings, he drove the cart backwards towards the
deep ditch at the side of the road. It wavered an instant--then there
was a heartrending crash--and the canary-coloured cart, their pride and
their joy, lay on its side in the ditch, an irredeemable wreck.

The Rat danced up and down in the road, simply transported with passion.
’You villains!’ he shouted, shaking both fists, ’You scoundrels, you
highwaymen, you--you--roadhogs!--I’ll have the law of you! I’ll report
you! I’ll take you through all the Courts!’ His home-sickness had quite
slipped away from him, and for the moment he was the skipper of the
canary-coloured vessel driven on a shoal by the reckless jockeying of
rival mariners, and he was trying to recollect all the fine and biting
things he used to say to masters of steam-launches when their wash, as
they drove too near the bank, used to flood his parlour-carpet at home.

Toad sat straight down in the middle of the dusty road, his legs
stretched out before him, and stared fixedly in the direction of the
disappearing motor-car. He breathed short, his face wore a placid
satisfied expression, and at intervals he faintly murmured ’Poop-poop!’

The Mole was busy trying to quiet the horse, which he succeeded in
doing after a time. Then he went to look at the cart, on its side in the
ditch. It was indeed a sorry sight. Panels and windows smashed, axles
hopelessly bent, one wheel off, sardine-tins scattered over the wide
world, and the bird in the bird-cage sobbing pitifully and calling to be
let out.

The Rat came to help him, but their united efforts were not sufficient
to right the cart. ’Hi! Toad!’ they cried. ’Come and bear a hand, can’t
you!’

The Toad never answered a word, or budged from his seat in the road; so
they went to see what was the matter with him. They found him in a sort
of a trance, a happy smile on his face, his eyes still fixed on the
dusty wake of their destroyer. At intervals he was still heard to murmur
’Poop-poop!’

The Rat shook him by the shoulder. ’Are you coming to help us, Toad?’ he
demanded sternly.

’Glorious, stirring sight!’ murmured Toad, never offering to move. ’The

poetry of motion! The REAL way to travel! The ONLY way to travel! Here
to-day--in next week to-morrow! Villages skipped, towns and cities
jumped--always somebody else’s horizon! O bliss! O poop-poop! O my! O
my!’

’O STOP being an ass, Toad!’ cried the Mole despairingly.

’And to think I never KNEW!’ went on the Toad in a dreamy monotone. ’All
those wasted years that lie behind me, I never knew, never even DREAMT!
But NOW--but now that I know, now that I fully realise! O what a flowery
track lies spread before me, henceforth! What dust-clouds shall spring
up behind me as I speed on my reckless way! What carts I shall fling
carelessly into the ditch in the wake of my magnificent onset! Horrid
little carts--common carts--canary-coloured carts!’

’What are we to do with him?’ asked the Mole of the Water Rat.
’Nothing at all,’ replied the Rat firmly. ’Because there is really
nothing to be done. You see, I know him from of old. He is now
possessed. He has got a new craze, and it always takes him that way, in
its first stage. He’ll continue like that for days now, like an animal
walking in a happy dream, quite useless for all practical purposes.
Never mind him. Let’s go and see what there is to be done about the
cart.’

A careful inspection showed them that, even if they succeeded in

righting it by themselves, the cart would travel no longer. The axles
were in a hopeless state, and the missing wheel was shattered into
pieces.

The Rat knotted the horse’s reins over his back and took him by the
head, carrying the bird cage and its hysterical occupant in the other
hand. ’Come on!’ he said grimly to the Mole. ’It’s five or six miles to
the nearest town, and we shall just have to walk it. The sooner we make
a start the better.’

’But what about Toad?’ asked the Mole anxiously, as they set off
together. ’We can’t leave him here, sitting in the middle of the road
by himself, in the distracted state he’s in! It’s not safe. Supposing
another Thing were to come along?’

’O, BOTHER Toad,’ said the Rat savagely; ’I’ve done with him!’

They had not proceeded very far on their way, however, when there was a
pattering of feet behind them, and Toad caught them up and thrust a paw
inside the elbow of each of them; still breathing short and staring into
vacancy.

’Now, look here, Toad!’ said the Rat sharply: ’as soon as we get to the
town, you’ll have to go straight to the police-station, and see if they
know anything about that motor-car and who it belongs to, and lodge a
complaint against it. And then you’ll have to go to a blacksmith’s or a
wheelwright’s and arrange for the cart to be fetched and mended and
put to rights. It’ll take time, but it’s not quite a hopeless smash.
Meanwhile, the Mole and I will go to an inn and find comfortable rooms
where we can stay till the cart’s ready, and till your nerves have
recovered their shock.’

’Police-station! Complaint!’murmured Toad dreamily. ’Me COMPLAIN of that

beautiful, that heavenly vision that has been vouchsafed me! MEND THE
CART! I’ve done with carts for ever. I never want to see the cart, or to
hear of it, again. O, Ratty! You can’t think how obliged I am to you for
consenting to come on this trip! I wouldn’t have gone without you,
and then I might never have seen that--that swan, that sunbeam, that
thunderbolt! I might never have heard that entrancing sound, or smelt
that bewitching smell! I owe it all to you, my best of friends!’

The Rat turned from him in despair. ’You see what it is?’ he said to the
Mole, addressing him across Toad’s head: ’He’s quite hopeless. I give
it up--when we get to the town we’ll go to the railway station, and
with luck we may pick up a train there that’ll get us back to riverbank
to-night. And if ever you catch me going a-pleasuring with this
provoking animal again!’

He snorted, and during the rest of that weary trudge addressed his
remarks exclusively to Mole.
On reaching the town they went straight to the station and deposited
Toad in the second-class waiting-room, giving a porter twopence to keep
a strict eye on him. They then left the horse at an inn stable, and gave
what directions they could about the cart and its contents. Eventually,
a slow train having landed them at a station not very far from Toad
Hall, they escorted the spell-bound, sleep-walking Toad to his door, put
him inside it, and instructed his housekeeper to feed him, undress him,
and put him to bed. Then they got out their boat from the boat-house,
sculled down the river home, and at a very late hour sat down to
supper in their own cosy riverside parlour, to the Rat’s great joy and
contentment.

The following evening the Mole, who had risen late and taken things very
easy all day, was sitting on the bank fishing, when the Rat, who had
been looking up his friends and gossiping, came strolling along to
find him. ’Heard the news?’ he said. ’There’s nothing else being talked
about, all along the river bank. Toad went up to Town by an early train
this morning. And he has ordered a large and very expensive motor-car.’

III. THE WILD WOOD

The Mole had long wanted to make the acquaintance of the Badger. He
seemed, by all accounts, to be such an important personage and, though
rarely visible, to make his unseen influence felt by everybody about
the place. But whenever the Mole mentioned his wish to the Water Rat
he always found himself put off. ’It’s all right,’ the Rat would say.
’Badger’ll turn up some day or other--he’s always turning up--and then
I’ll introduce you. The best of fellows! But you must not only take him
AS you find him, but WHEN you find him.’

’Couldn’t you ask him here dinner or something?’ said the Mole.

’He wouldn’t come,’ replied the Rat simply. ’Badger hates Society, and
invitations, and dinner, and all that sort of thing.’

’Well, then, supposing we go and call on HIM?’ suggested the Mole.

’O, I’m sure he wouldn’t like that at ALL,’ said the Rat, quite alarmed.
’He’s so very shy, he’d be sure to be offended. I’ve never even ventured
to call on him at his own home myself, though I know him so well.
Besides, we can’t. It’s quite out of the question, because he lives in
the very middle of the Wild Wood.’

’Well, supposing he does,’ said the Mole. ’You told me the Wild Wood was
all right, you know.’

’O, I know, I know, so it is,’ replied the Rat evasively. ’But I think
we won’t go there just now. Not JUST yet. It’s a long way, and he
wouldn’t be at home at this time of year anyhow, and he’ll be coming
along some day, if you’ll wait quietly.’

The Mole had to be content with this. But the Badger never came along,
and every day brought its amusements, and it was not till summer was
long over, and cold and frost and miry ways kept them much indoors, and
the swollen river raced past outside their windows with a speed that
mocked at boating of any sort or kind, that he found his thoughts
dwelling again with much persistence on the solitary grey Badger, who
lived his own life by himself, in his hole in the middle of the Wild
Wood.

In the winter time the Rat slept a great deal, retiring early and rising
late. During his short day he sometimes scribbled poetry or did other
small domestic jobs about the house; and, of course, there were always
animals dropping in for a chat, and consequently there was a good deal
of story-telling and comparing notes on the past summer and all its
doings.

Such a rich chapter it had been, when one came to look back on it all!
With illustrations so numerous and so very highly coloured! The pageant
of the river bank had marched steadily along, unfolding itself in
scene-pictures that succeeded each other in stately procession. Purple
loosestrife arrived early, shaking luxuriant tangled locks along the
edge of the mirror whence its own face laughed back at it. Willow-herb,
tender and wistful, like a pink sunset cloud, was not slow to follow.
Comfrey, the purple hand-in-hand with the white, crept forth to take its
place in the line; and at last one morning the diffident and delaying
dog-rose stepped delicately on the stage, and one knew, as if
string-music had announced it in stately chords that strayed into a
gavotte, that June at last was here. One member of the company was still
awaited; the shepherd-boy for the nymphs to woo, the knight for whom the
ladies waited at the window, the prince that was to kiss the sleeping
summer back to life and love. But when meadow-sweet, debonair and
odorous in amber jerkin, moved graciously to his place in the group,
then the play was ready to begin.

And what a play it had been! Drowsy animals, snug in their holes
while wind and rain were battering at their doors, recalled still
keen mornings, an hour before sunrise, when the white mist, as yet
undispersed, clung closely along the surface of the water; then the
shock of the early plunge, the scamper along the bank, and the radiant
transformation of earth, air, and water, when suddenly the sun was with
them again, and grey was gold and colour was born and sprang out of the
earth once more. They recalled the languorous siesta of hot mid-day,
deep in green undergrowth, the sun striking through in tiny golden
shafts and spots; the boating and bathing of the afternoon, the rambles
along dusty lanes and through yellow cornfields; and the long, cool
evening at last, when so many threads were gathered up, so many
friendships rounded, and so many adventures planned for the morrow.
There was plenty to talk about on those short winter days when the
animals found themselves round the fire; still, the Mole had a good deal
of spare time on his hands, and so one afternoon, when the Rat in his
arm-chair before the blaze was alternately dozing and trying over rhymes
that wouldn’t fit, he formed the resolution to go out by himself and
explore the Wild Wood, and perhaps strike up an acquaintance with Mr.
Badger.

It was a cold still afternoon with a hard steely sky overhead, when he
slipped out of the warm parlour into the open air. The country lay bare
and entirely leafless around him, and he thought that he had never seen
so far and so intimately into the insides of things as on that winter
day when Nature was deep in her annual slumber and seemed to have kicked
the clothes off. Copses, dells, quarries and all hidden places, which
had been mysterious mines for exploration in leafy summer, now exposed
themselves and their secrets pathetically, and seemed to ask him to
overlook their shabby poverty for a while, till they could riot in rich
masquerade as before, and trick and entice him with the old deceptions.
It was pitiful in a way, and yet cheering--even exhilarating. He was
glad that he liked the country undecorated, hard, and stripped of its
finery. He had got down to the bare bones of it, and they were fine
and strong and simple. He did not want the warm clover and the play of
seeding grasses; the screens of quickset, the billowy drapery of beech
and elm seemed best away; and with great cheerfulness of spirit
he pushed on towards the Wild Wood, which lay before him low and
threatening, like a black reef in some still southern sea.

There was nothing to alarm him at first entry. Twigs crackled under his
feet, logs tripped him, funguses on stumps resembled caricatures, and
startled him for the moment by their likeness to something familiar
and far away; but that was all fun, and exciting. It led him on, and he
penetrated to where the light was less, and trees crouched nearer and
nearer, and holes made ugly mouths at him on either side.

Everything was very still now. The dusk advanced on him steadily,
rapidly, gathering in behind and before; and the light seemed to be
draining away like flood-water.

Then the faces began.

It was over his shoulder, and indistinctly, that he first thought he saw
a face; a little evil wedge-shaped face, looking out at him from a hole.
When he turned and confronted it, the thing had vanished.

He quickened his pace, telling himself cheerfully not to begin imagining

things, or there would be simply no end to it. He passed another hole,
and another, and another; and then--yes!--no!--yes! certainly a little
narrow face, with hard eyes, had flashed up for an instant from a hole,
and was gone. He hesitated--braced himself up for an effort and strode
on. Then suddenly, and as if it had been so all the time, every hole,
far and near, and there were hundreds of them, seemed to possess its
face, coming and going rapidly, all fixing on him glances of malice and
hatred: all hard-eyed and evil and sharp.

If he could only get away from the holes in the banks, he thought,
there would be no more faces. He swung off the path and plunged into the
untrodden places of the wood.

Then the whistling began.

Very faint and shrill it was, and far behind him, when first he heard
it; but somehow it made him hurry forward. Then, still very faint and
shrill, it sounded far ahead of him, and made him hesitate and want to
go back. As he halted in indecision it broke out on either side, and
seemed to be caught up and passed on throughout the whole length of the
wood to its farthest limit. They were up and alert and ready, evidently,
whoever they were! And he--he was alone, and unarmed, and far from any
help; and the night was closing in.

Then the pattering began.

He thought it was only falling leaves at first, so slight and delicate

was the sound of it. Then as it grew it took a regular rhythm, and he
knew it for nothing else but the pat-pat-pat of little feet still a very
long way off. Was it in front or behind? It seemed to be first one, and
then the other, then both. It grew and it multiplied, till from every
quarter as he listened anxiously, leaning this way and that, it seemed
to be closing in on him. As he stood still to hearken, a rabbit came
running hard towards him through the trees. He waited, expecting it to
slacken pace, or to swerve from him into a different course. Instead,
the animal almost brushed him as it dashed past, his face set and hard,
his eyes staring. ’Get out of this, you fool, get out!’ the Mole heard
him mutter as he swung round a stump and disappeared down a friendly
burrow.

The pattering increased till it sounded like sudden hail on the dry
leaf-carpet spread around him. The whole wood seemed running now,
running hard, hunting, chasing, closing in round something or--somebody?
In panic, he began to run too, aimlessly, he knew not whither. He ran
up against things, he fell over things and into things, he darted under
things and dodged round things. At last he took refuge in the deep dark
hollow of an old beech tree, which offered shelter, concealment--perhaps
even safety, but who could tell? Anyhow, he was too tired to run any
further, and could only snuggle down into the dry leaves which had
drifted into the hollow and hope he was safe for a time. And as he lay
there panting and trembling, and listened to the whistlings and the
patterings outside, he knew it at last, in all its fullness, that dread
thing which other little dwellers in field and hedgerow had encountered
here, and known as their darkest moment--that thing which the Rat had
vainly tried to shield him from--the Terror of the Wild Wood!

Meantime the Rat, warm and comfortable, dozed by his fireside. His paper
of half-finished verses slipped from his knee, his head fell back, his
mouth opened, and he wandered by the verdant banks of dream-rivers. Then
a coal slipped, the fire crackled and sent up a spurt of flame, and he
woke with a start. Remembering what he had been engaged upon, he reached
down to the floor for his verses, pored over them for a minute, and
then looked round for the Mole to ask him if he knew a good rhyme for
something or other.

But the Mole was not there.

He listened for a time. The house seemed very quiet.

Then he called ’Moly!’ several times, and, receiving no answer, got up

and went out into the hall.

The Mole’s cap was missing from its accustomed peg. His goloshes, which
always lay by the umbrella-stand, were also gone.

The Rat left the house, and carefully examined the muddy surface of the
ground outside, hoping to find the Mole’s tracks. There they were,
sure enough. The goloshes were new, just bought for the winter, and the
pimples on their soles were fresh and sharp. He could see the imprints
of them in the mud, running along straight and purposeful, leading
direct to the Wild Wood.

The Rat looked very grave, and stood in deep thought for a minute or
two. Then he re-entered the house, strapped a belt round his waist,
shoved a brace of pistols into it, took up a stout cudgel that stood in
a corner of the hall, and set off for the Wild Wood at a smart pace.

It was already getting towards dusk when he reached the first fringe of
trees and plunged without hesitation into the wood, looking anxiously
on either side for any sign of his friend. Here and there wicked little
faces popped out of holes, but vanished immediately at sight of the
valorous animal, his pistols, and the great ugly cudgel in his grasp;
and the whistling and pattering, which he had heard quite plainly on his
first entry, died away and ceased, and all was very still. He made his
way manfully through the length of the wood, to its furthest edge; then,
forsaking all paths, he set himself to traverse it, laboriously working
over the whole ground, and all the time calling out cheerfully, ’Moly,
Moly, Moly! Where are you? It’s me--it’s old Rat!’

He had patiently hunted through the wood for an hour or more, when at
last to his joy he heard a little answering cry. Guiding himself by the
sound, he made his way through the gathering darkness to the foot of
an old beech tree, with a hole in it, and from out of the hole came a
feeble voice, saying ’Ratty! Is that really you?’

The Rat crept into the hollow, and there he found the Mole, exhausted
and still trembling. ’O Rat!’ he cried, ’I’ve been so frightened, you
can’t think!’

’O, I quite understand,’ said the Rat soothingly. ’You shouldn’t really
have gone and done it, Mole. I did my best to keep you from it. We
river-bankers, we hardly ever come here by ourselves. If we have to
come, we come in couples, at least; then we’re generally all right.
Besides, there are a hundred things one has to know, which we understand
all about and you don’t, as yet. I mean passwords, and signs, and
sayings which have power and effect, and plants you carry in your
pocket, and verses you repeat, and dodges and tricks you practise; all
simple enough when you know them, but they’ve got to be known if you’re
small, or you’ll find yourself in trouble. Of course if you were Badger
or Otter, it would be quite another matter.’

’Surely the brave Mr. Toad wouldn’t mind coming here by himself, would
he?’ inquired the Mole.

’Old Toad?’ said the Rat, laughing heartily. ’He wouldn’t show his face
here alone, not for a whole hatful of golden guineas, Toad wouldn’t.’

The Mole was greatly cheered by the sound of the Rat’s careless
laughter, as well as by the sight of his stick and his gleaming pistols,
and he stopped shivering and began to feel bolder and more himself
again.

’Now then,’ said the Rat presently, ’we really must pull ourselves
together and make a start for home while there’s still a little light
left. It will never do to spend the night here, you understand. Too
cold, for one thing.’

’Dear Ratty,’ said the poor Mole, ’I’m dreadfully sorry, but I’m simply
dead beat and that’s a solid fact. You MUST let me rest here a while
longer, and get my strength back, if I’m to get home at all.’

’O, all right,’ said the good-natured Rat, ’rest away. It’s pretty
nearly pitch dark now, anyhow; and there ought to be a bit of a moon
later.’

So the Mole got well into the dry leaves and stretched himself out, and
presently dropped off into sleep, though of a broken and troubled sort;
while the Rat covered himself up, too, as best he might, for warmth, and
lay patiently waiting, with a pistol in his paw.

When at last the Mole woke up, much refreshed and in his usual spirits,
the Rat said, ’Now then! I’ll just take a look outside and see if
everything’s quiet, and then we really must be off.’
He went to the entrance of their retreat and put his head out. Then
the Mole heard him saying quietly to himself, ’Hullo! hullo!
here--is--a--go!’

’What’s up, Ratty?’ asked the Mole.

’SNOW is up,’ replied the Rat briefly; ’or rather, DOWN. It’s snowing
hard.’

The Mole came and crouched beside him, and, looking out, saw the wood
that had been so dreadful to him in quite a changed aspect. Holes,
hollows, pools, pitfalls, and other black menaces to the wayfarer
were vanishing fast, and a gleaming carpet of faery was springing up
everywhere, that looked too delicate to be trodden upon by rough feet.
A fine powder filled the air and caressed the cheek with a tingle in its
touch, and the black boles of the trees showed up in a light that seemed
to come from below.

’Well, well, it can’t be helped,’ said the Rat, after pondering. ’We
must make a start, and take our chance, I suppose. The worst of it is, I
don’t exactly know where we are. And now this snow makes everything look
so very different.’

It did indeed. The Mole would not have known that it was the same
wood. However, they set out bravely, and took the line that seemed
most promising, holding on to each other and pretending with invincible
cheerfulness that they recognized an old friend in every fresh tree that
grimly and silently greeted them, or saw openings, gaps, or paths with
a familiar turn in them, in the monotony of white space and black
tree-trunks that refused to vary.

An hour or two later--they had lost all count of time--they pulled

up, dispirited, weary, and hopelessly at sea, and sat down on a fallen
tree-trunk to recover their breath and consider what was to be done.
They were aching with fatigue and bruised with tumbles; they had fallen
into several holes and got wet through; the snow was getting so deep
that they could hardly drag their little legs through it, and the trees
were thicker and more like each other than ever. There seemed to be no
end to this wood, and no beginning, and no difference in it, and, worst
of all, no way out.

’We can’t sit here very long,’ said the Rat. ’We shall have to make
another push for it, and do something or other. The cold is too
awful for anything, and the snow will soon be too deep for us to wade
through.’ He peered about him and considered. ’Look here,’ he went on,
’this is what occurs to me. There’s a sort of dell down here in front of
us, where the ground seems all hilly and humpy and hummocky. We’ll make
our way down into that, and try and find some sort of shelter, a cave
or hole with a dry floor to it, out of the snow and the wind, and there
we’ll have a good rest before we try again, for we’re both of us pretty
dead beat. Besides, the snow may leave off, or something may turn up.’

So once more they got on their feet, and struggled down into the dell,
where they hunted about for a cave or some corner that was dry and
a protection from the keen wind and the whirling snow. They were
investigating one of the hummocky bits the Rat had spoken of, when
suddenly the Mole tripped up and fell forward on his face with a squeal.

’O my leg!’ he cried. ’O my poor shin!’ and he sat up on the snow and

nursed his leg in both his front paws.

’Poor old Mole!’ said the Rat kindly.

’You don’t seem to be having much luck to-day, do you? Let’s have a look
at the leg. Yes,’ he went on, going down on his knees to look, ’you’ve
cut your shin, sure enough. Wait till I get at my handkerchief, and I’ll
tie it up for you.’

’I must have tripped over a hidden branch or a stump,’ said the Mole
miserably. ’O, my! O, my!’

’It’s a very clean cut,’ said the Rat, examining it again attentively.
’That was never done by a branch or a stump. Looks as if it was made
by a sharp edge of something in metal. Funny!’ He pondered awhile, and
examined the humps and slopes that surrounded them.

’Well, never mind what done it,’ said the Mole, forgetting his grammar
in his pain. ’It hurts just the same, whatever done it.’

But the Rat, after carefully tying up the leg with his handkerchief, had
left him and was busy scraping in the snow. He scratched and shovelled
and explored, all four legs working busily, while the Mole waited
impatiently, remarking at intervals, ’O, COME on, Rat!’

Suddenly the Rat cried ’Hooray!’ and then ’Hooray-oo-ray-oo-ray-oo-ray!’

and fell to executing a feeble jig in the snow.

’What HAVE you found, Ratty?’ asked the Mole, still nursing his leg.

’Come and see!’ said the delighted Rat, as he jigged on.

The Mole hobbled up to the spot and had a good look.

’Well,’ he said at last, slowly, ’I SEE it right enough. Seen the same
sort of thing before, lots of times. Familiar object, I call it. A
door-scraper! Well, what of it? Why dance jigs around a door-scraper?’

’But don’t you see what it MEANS, you--you dull-witted animal?’ cried
the Rat impatiently.

’Of course I see what it means,’ replied the Mole. ’It simply means that
some VERY careless and forgetful person has left his door-scraper lying
about in the middle of the Wild Wood, JUST where it’s SURE to trip
EVERYBODY up. Very thoughtless of him, I call it. When I get home
I shall go and complain about it to--to somebody or other, see if I
don’t!’

’O, dear! O, dear!’ cried the Rat, in despair at his obtuseness. ’Here,
stop arguing and come and scrape!’ And he set to work again and made the
snow fly in all directions around him.

After some further toil his efforts were rewarded, and a very shabby
door-mat lay exposed to view.

’There, what did I tell you?’ exclaimed the Rat in great triumph.

’Absolutely nothing whatever,’ replied the Mole, with perfect

truthfulness. ’Well now,’ he went on, ’you seem to have found another
piece of domestic litter, done for and thrown away, and I suppose you’re
perfectly happy. Better go ahead and dance your jig round that if you’ve
got to, and get it over, and then perhaps we can go on and not waste
any more time over rubbish-heaps. Can we EAT a doormat? or sleep under a
door-mat? Or sit on a door-mat and sledge home over the snow on it, you
exasperating rodent?’

’Do--you--mean--to--say,’ cried the excited Rat, ’that this door-mat

doesn’t TELL you anything?’

’Really, Rat,’ said the Mole, quite pettishly, ’I think we’d had enough
of this folly. Who ever heard of a door-mat TELLING anyone anything?
They simply don’t do it. They are not that sort at all. Door-mats know
their place.’

’Now look here, you--you thick-headed beast,’ replied the Rat, really
angry, ’this must stop. Not another word, but scrape--scrape and scratch
and dig and hunt round, especially on the sides of the hummocks, if you
want to sleep dry and warm to-night, for it’s our last chance!’

The Rat attacked a snow-bank beside them with ardour, probing with
his cudgel everywhere and then digging with fury; and the Mole scraped
busily too, more to oblige the Rat than for any other reason, for his
opinion was that his friend was getting light-headed.

Some ten minutes’ hard work, and the point of the Rat’s cudgel struck
something that sounded hollow. He worked till he could get a paw through
and feel; then called the Mole to come and help him. Hard at it went the
two animals, till at last the result of their labours stood full in view
of the astonished and hitherto incredulous Mole.

In the side of what had seemed to be a snow-bank stood a solid-looking

little door, painted a dark green. An iron bell-pull hung by the side,
and below it, on a small brass plate, neatly engraved in square capital
letters, they could read by the aid of moonlight MR. BADGER.

The Mole fell backwards on the snow from sheer surprise and delight.
’Rat!’ he cried in penitence, ’you’re a wonder! A real wonder, that’s
what you are. I see it all now! You argued it out, step by step, in that
wise head of yours, from the very moment that I fell and cut my shin,
and you looked at the cut, and at once your majestic mind said to
itself, "Door-scraper!" And then you turned to and found the very
door-scraper that done it! Did you stop there? No. Some people would
have been quite satisfied; but not you. Your intellect went on working.
"Let me only just find a door-mat," says you to yourself, "and my theory
is proved!" And of course you found your door-mat. You’re so clever, I
believe you could find anything you liked. "Now," says you, "that door
exists, as plain as if I saw it. There’s nothing else remains to be done
but to find it!" Well, I’ve read about that sort of thing in books, but
I’ve never come across it before in real life. You ought to go where
you’ll be properly appreciated. You’re simply wasted here, among us
fellows. If I only had your head, Ratty----’

’But as you haven’t,’ interrupted the Rat, rather unkindly, ’I suppose

you’re going to sit on the snow all night and TALK Get up at once and
hang on to that bell-pull you see there, and ring hard, as hard as you
can, while I hammer!’

While the Rat attacked the door with his stick, the Mole sprang up
at the bell-pull, clutched it and swung there, both feet well off
the ground, and from quite a long way off they could faintly hear a
deep-toned bell respond.

IV. MR. BADGER

THEY waited patiently for what seemed a very long time, stamping in
the snow to keep their feet warm. At last they heard the sound of slow
shuffling footsteps approaching the door from the inside. It seemed, as
the Mole remarked to the Rat, like some one walking in carpet slippers
that were too large for him and down at heel; which was intelligent of
Mole, because that was exactly what it was.

There was the noise of a bolt shot back, and the door opened a few
inches, enough to show a long snout and a pair of sleepy blinking eyes.

’Now, the VERY next time this happens,’ said a gruff and suspicious
voice, ’I shall be exceedingly angry. Who is it THIS time, disturbing
people on such a night? Speak up!’

’Oh, Badger,’ cried the Rat, ’let us in, please. It’s me, Rat, and my
friend Mole, and we’ve lost our way in the snow.’

’What, Ratty, my dear little man!’ exclaimed the Badger, in quite a

different voice. ’Come along in, both of you, at once. Why, you must be
perished. Well I never! Lost in the snow! And in the Wild Wood, too, and
at this time of night! But come in with you.’

The two animals tumbled over each other in their eagerness to get
inside, and heard the door shut behind them with great joy and relief.

The Badger, who wore a long dressing-gown, and whose slippers were
indeed very down at heel, carried a flat candlestick in his paw and had
probably been on his way to bed when their summons sounded. He looked
kindly down on them and patted both their heads. ’This is not the sort
of night for small animals to be out,’ he said paternally. ’I’m afraid
you’ve been up to some of your pranks again, Ratty. But come along;
come into the kitchen. There’s a first-rate fire there, and supper and
everything.’

He shuffled on in front of them, carrying the light, and they followed

him, nudging each other in an anticipating sort of way, down a long,
gloomy, and, to tell the truth, decidedly shabby passage, into a sort of
a central hall; out of which they could dimly see other long tunnel-like
passages branching, passages mysterious and without apparent end. But
there were doors in the hall as well--stout oaken comfortable-looking
doors. One of these the Badger flung open, and at once they found
themselves in all the glow and warmth of a large fire-lit kitchen.

The floor was well-worn red brick, and on the wide hearth burnt a fire
of logs, between two attractive chimney-corners tucked away in the wall,
well out of any suspicion of draught. A couple of high-backed settles,
facing each other on either side of the fire, gave further sitting
accommodations for the sociably disposed. In the middle of the room
stood a long table of plain boards placed on trestles, with benches down
each side. At one end of it, where an arm-chair stood pushed back,
were spread the remains of the Badger’s plain but ample supper. Rows of
spotless plates winked from the shelves of the dresser at the far end
of the room, and from the rafters overhead hung hams, bundles of dried
herbs, nets of onions, and baskets of eggs. It seemed a place where
heroes could fitly feast after victory, where weary harvesters could
line up in scores along the table and keep their Harvest Home with mirth
and song, or where two or three friends of simple tastes could sit about
as they pleased and eat and smoke and talk in comfort and contentment.
The ruddy brick floor smiled up at the smoky ceiling; the oaken settles,
shiny with long wear, exchanged cheerful glances with each other; plates
on the dresser grinned at pots on the shelf, and the merry firelight
flickered and played over everything without distinction.

The kindly Badger thrust them down on a settle to toast themselves

at the fire, and bade them remove their wet coats and boots. Then he
fetched them dressing-gowns and slippers, and himself bathed the Mole’s
shin with warm water and mended the cut with sticking-plaster till the
whole thing was just as good as new, if not better. In the embracing
light and warmth, warm and dry at last, with weary legs propped up in
front of them, and a suggestive clink of plates being arranged on
the table behind, it seemed to the storm-driven animals, now in safe
anchorage, that the cold and trackless Wild Wood just left outside
was miles and miles away, and all that they had suffered in it a
half-forgotten dream.

When at last they were thoroughly toasted, the Badger summoned them to
the table, where he had been busy laying a repast. They had felt pretty
hungry before, but when they actually saw at last the supper that was
spread for them, really it seemed only a question of what they should
attack first where all was so attractive, and whether the other
things would obligingly wait for them till they had time to give them
attention. Conversation was impossible for a long time; and when it
was slowly resumed, it was that regrettable sort of conversation that
results from talking with your mouth full. The Badger did not mind that
sort of thing at all, nor did he take any notice of elbows on the table,
or everybody speaking at once. As he did not go into Society himself,
he had got an idea that these things belonged to the things that didn’t
really matter. (We know of course that he was wrong, and took too narrow
a view; because they do matter very much, though it would take too long
to explain why.) He sat in his arm-chair at the head of the table, and
nodded gravely at intervals as the animals told their story; and he did
not seem surprised or shocked at anything, and he never said, ’I told
you so,’ or, ’Just what I always said,’ or remarked that they ought to
have done so-and-so, or ought not to have done something else. The Mole
began to feel very friendly towards him.

When supper was really finished at last, and each animal felt that his
skin was now as tight as was decently safe, and that by this time he
didn’t care a hang for anybody or anything, they gathered round the
glowing embers of the great wood fire, and thought how jolly it was to
be sitting up SO late, and SO independent, and SO full; and after
they had chatted for a time about things in general, the Badger said
heartily, ’Now then! tell us the news from your part of the world. How’s
old Toad going on?’

’Oh, from bad to worse,’ said the Rat gravely, while the Mole, cocked
up on a settle and basking in the firelight, his heels higher than his
head, tried to look properly mournful. ’Another smash-up only last week,
and a bad one. You see, he will insist on driving himself, and he’s
hopelessly incapable. If he’d only employ a decent, steady, well-trained
animal, pay him good wages, and leave everything to him, he’d get on all
right. But no; he’s convinced he’s a heaven-born driver, and nobody can
teach him anything; and all the rest follows.’
’How many has he had?’ inquired the Badger gloomily.

’Smashes, or machines?’ asked the Rat. ’Oh, well, after all, it’s the
same thing--with Toad. This is the seventh. As for the others--you know
that coach-house of his? Well, it’s piled up--literally piled up to the
roof--with fragments of motor-cars, none of them bigger than your hat!
That accounts for the other six--so far as they can be accounted for.’

’He’s been in hospital three times,’ put in the Mole; ’and as for the
fines he’s had to pay, it’s simply awful to think of.’

’Yes, and that’s part of the trouble,’ continued the Rat. ’Toad’s rich,
we all know; but he’s not a millionaire. And he’s a hopelessly bad
driver, and quite regardless of law and order. Killed or ruined--it’s
got to be one of the two things, sooner or later. Badger! we’re his
friends--oughtn’t we to do something?’

The Badger went through a bit of hard thinking. ’Now look here!’ he said
at last, rather severely; ’of course you know I can’t do anything NOW?’

His two friends assented, quite understanding his point. No animal,

according to the rules of animal-etiquette, is ever expected to do
anything strenuous, or heroic, or even moderately active during the
off-season of winter. All are sleepy--some actually asleep. All are
weather-bound, more or less; and all are resting from arduous days and
nights, during which every muscle in them has been severely tested, and
every energy kept at full stretch.

’Very well then!’ continued the Badger. ’BUT, when once the year has
really turned, and the nights are shorter, and halfway through them one
rouses and feels fidgety and wanting to be up and doing by sunrise, if
not before--YOU know!----’

Both animals nodded gravely. THEY knew!

’Well, THEN,’ went on the Badger, ’we--that is, you and me and our
friend the Mole here--we’ll take Toad seriously in hand. We’ll stand no
nonsense whatever. We’ll bring him back to reason, by force if need be.
We’ll MAKE him be a sensible Toad. We’ll--you’re asleep, Rat!’

’Not me!’ said the Rat, waking up with a jerk.

’He’s been asleep two or three times since supper,’ said the Mole,
laughing. He himself was feeling quite wakeful and even lively, though
he didn’t know why. The reason was, of course, that he being naturally
an underground animal by birth and breeding, the situation of Badger’s
house exactly suited him and made him feel at home; while the Rat, who
slept every night in a bedroom the windows of which opened on a breezy
river, naturally felt the atmosphere still and oppressive.

’Well, it’s time we were all in bed,’ said the Badger, getting up and
fetching flat candlesticks. ’Come along, you two, and I’ll show you your
quarters. And take your time tomorrow morning--breakfast at any hour you
please!’

He conducted the two animals to a long room that seemed half bedchamber
and half loft. The Badger’s winter stores, which indeed were visible
everywhere, took up half the room--piles of apples, turnips, and
potatoes, baskets full of nuts, and jars of honey; but the two little
white beds on the remainder of the floor looked soft and inviting, and
the linen on them, though coarse, was clean and smelt beautifully of
lavender; and the Mole and the Water Rat, shaking off their garments
in some thirty seconds, tumbled in between the sheets in great joy and
contentment.

In accordance with the kindly Badger’s injunctions, the two tired

animals came down to breakfast very late next morning, and found a
bright fire burning in the kitchen, and two young hedgehogs sitting on
a bench at the table, eating oatmeal porridge out of wooden bowls. The
hedgehogs dropped their spoons, rose to their feet, and ducked their
heads respectfully as the two entered.

’There, sit down, sit down,’ said the Rat pleasantly, ’and go on with
your porridge. Where have you youngsters come from? Lost your way in the
snow, I suppose?’

’Yes, please, sir,’ said the elder of the two hedgehogs respectfully.
’Me and little Billy here, we was trying to find our way to
school--mother WOULD have us go, was the weather ever so--and of course
we lost ourselves, sir, and Billy he got frightened and took and cried,
being young and faint-hearted. And at last we happened up against Mr.
Badger’s back door, and made so bold as to knock, sir, for Mr. Badger
he’s a kind-hearted gentleman, as everyone knows----’

’I understand,’ said the Rat, cutting himself some rashers from a side
of bacon, while the Mole dropped some eggs into a saucepan. ’And what’s
the weather like outside? You needn’t "sir" me quite so much?’ he added.

’O, terrible bad, sir, terrible deep the snow is,’ said the hedgehog.
’No getting out for the likes of you gentlemen to-day.’

’Where’s Mr. Badger?’ inquired the Mole, as he warmed the coffee-pot

before the fire.

’The master’s gone into his study, sir,’ replied the hedgehog, ’and he
said as how he was going to be particular busy this morning, and on no
account was he to be disturbed.’

This explanation, of course, was thoroughly understood by every one

present. The fact is, as already set forth, when you live a life of
intense activity for six months in the year, and of comparative or
actual somnolence for the other six, during the latter period you cannot
be continually pleading sleepiness when there are people about or things
to be done. The excuse gets monotonous. The animals well knew that
Badger, having eaten a hearty breakfast, had retired to his study and
settled himself in an arm-chair with his legs up on another and a red
cotton handkerchief over his face, and was being ’busy’ in the usual way
at this time of the year.

The front-door bell clanged loudly, and the Rat, who was very greasy
with buttered toast, sent Billy, the smaller hedgehog, to see who it
might be. There was a sound of much stamping in the hall, and presently
Billy returned in front of the Otter, who threw himself on the Rat with
an embrace and a shout of affectionate greeting.

’Get off!’ spluttered the Rat, with his mouth full.

’Thought I should find you here all right,’ said the Otter cheerfully.
’They were all in a great state of alarm along River Bank when I arrived
this morning. Rat never been home all night--nor Mole either--something
dreadful must have happened, they said; and the snow had covered up all
your tracks, of course. But I knew that when people were in any fix they
mostly went to Badger, or else Badger got to know of it somehow, so I
came straight off here, through the Wild Wood and the snow! My! it was
fine, coming through the snow as the red sun was rising and showing
against the black tree-trunks! As you went along in the stillness, every
now and then masses of snow slid off the branches suddenly with a flop!
making you jump and run for cover. Snow-castles and snow-caverns had
sprung up out of nowhere in the night--and snow bridges, terraces,
ramparts--I could have stayed and played with them for hours. Here and
there great branches had been torn away by the sheer weight of the snow,
and robins perched and hopped on them in their perky conceited way, just
as if they had done it themselves. A ragged string of wild geese passed
overhead, high on the grey sky, and a few rooks whirled over the trees,
inspected, and flapped off homewards with a disgusted expression; but I
met no sensible being to ask the news of. About halfway across I came on
a rabbit sitting on a stump, cleaning his silly face with his paws. He
was a pretty scared animal when I crept up behind him and placed a heavy
forepaw on his shoulder. I had to cuff his head once or twice to get any
sense out of it at all. At last I managed to extract from him that Mole
had been seen in the Wild Wood last night by one of them. It was the
talk of the burrows, he said, how Mole, Mr. Rat’s particular friend,
was in a bad fix; how he had lost his way, and "They" were up and out
hunting, and were chivvying him round and round. "Then why didn’t any of
you DO something?" I asked. "You mayn’t be blest with brains, but there
are hundreds and hundreds of you, big, stout fellows, as fat as butter,
and your burrows running in all directions, and you could have taken
him in and made him safe and comfortable, or tried to, at all events."
"What, US?" he merely said: "DO something? us rabbits?" So I cuffed him
again and left him. There was nothing else to be done. At any rate, I
had learnt something; and if I had had the luck to meet any of "Them"
I’d have learnt something more--or THEY would.’

’Weren’t you at all--er--nervous?’ asked the Mole, some of yesterday’s

terror coming back to him at the mention of the Wild Wood.

’Nervous?’ The Otter showed a gleaming set of strong white teeth as he

laughed. ’I’d give ’em nerves if any of them tried anything on with me.
Here, Mole, fry me some slices of ham, like the good little chap you
are. I’m frightfully hungry, and I’ve got any amount to say to Ratty
here. Haven’t seen him for an age.’

So the good-natured Mole, having cut some slices of ham, set the
hedgehogs to fry it, and returned to his own breakfast, while the Otter
and the Rat, their heads together, eagerly talked river-shop, which is
long shop and talk that is endless, running on like the babbling river
itself.

A plate of fried ham had just been cleared and sent back for more, when
the Badger entered, yawning and rubbing his eyes, and greeted them all
in his quiet, simple way, with kind enquiries for every one. ’It must
be getting on for luncheon time,’ he remarked to the Otter. ’Better stop
and have it with us. You must be hungry, this cold morning.’

’Rather!’ replied the Otter, winking at the Mole. ’The sight of these
greedy young hedgehogs stuffing themselves with fried ham makes me feel
positively famished.’

The hedgehogs, who were just beginning to feel hungry again after their
porridge, and after working so hard at their frying, looked timidly up
at Mr. Badger, but were too shy to say anything.

’Here, you two youngsters be off home to your mother,’ said the Badger
kindly. ’I’ll send some one with you to show you the way. You won’t want
any dinner to-day, I’ll be bound.’

He gave them sixpence apiece and a pat on the head, and they went off
with much respectful swinging of caps and touching of forelocks.

Presently they all sat down to luncheon together. The Mole found himself
placed next to Mr. Badger, and, as the other two were still deep
in river-gossip from which nothing could divert them, he took the
opportunity to tell Badger how comfortable and home-like it all felt to
him. ’Once well underground,’ he said, ’you know exactly where you are.
Nothing can happen to you, and nothing can get at you. You’re entirely
your own master, and you don’t have to consult anybody or mind what
they say. Things go on all the same overhead, and you let ’em, and don’t
bother about ’em. When you want to, up you go, and there the things are,
waiting for you.’

The Badger simply beamed on him. ’That’s exactly what I say,’ he

replied. ’There’s no security, or peace and tranquillity, except
underground. And then, if your ideas get larger and you want to
expand--why, a dig and a scrape, and there you are! If you feel your
house is a bit too big, you stop up a hole or two, and there you are
again! No builders, no tradesmen, no remarks passed on you by fellows
looking over your wall, and, above all, no WEATHER. Look at Rat, now. A
couple of feet of flood water, and he’s got to move into hired lodgings;
uncomfortable, inconveniently situated, and horribly expensive. Take
Toad. I say nothing against Toad Hall; quite the best house in these
parts, AS a house. But supposing a fire breaks out--where’s Toad?
Supposing tiles are blown off, or walls sink or crack, or windows get
broken--where’s Toad? Supposing the rooms are draughty--I HATE a draught
myself--where’s Toad? No, up and out of doors is good enough to roam
about and get one’s living in; but underground to come back to at
last--that’s my idea of HOME.’

The Mole assented heartily; and the Badger in consequence got very
friendly with him. ’When lunch is over,’ he said, ’I’ll take you all
round this little place of mine. I can see you’ll appreciate it. You
understand what domestic architecture ought to be, you do.’

After luncheon, accordingly, when the other two had settled themselves
into the chimney-corner and had started a heated argument on the subject
of EELS, the Badger lighted a lantern and bade the Mole follow him.
Crossing the hall, they passed down one of the principal tunnels, and
the wavering light of the lantern gave glimpses on either side of rooms
both large and small, some mere cupboards, others nearly as broad and
imposing as Toad’s dining-hall. A narrow passage at right angles led
them into another corridor, and here the same thing was repeated. The
Mole was staggered at the size, the extent, the ramifications of it all;
at the length of the dim passages, the solid vaultings of the crammed
store-chambers, the masonry everywhere, the pillars, the arches, the
pavements. ’How on earth, Badger,’ he said at last, ’did you ever find
time and strength to do all this? It’s astonishing!’

’It WOULD be astonishing indeed,’ said the Badger simply, ’if I HAD
done it. But as a matter of fact I did none of it--only cleaned out the
passages and chambers, as far as I had need of them. There’s lots more
of it, all round about. I see you don’t understand, and I must explain
it to you. Well, very long ago, on the spot where the Wild Wood waves
now, before ever it had planted itself and grown up to what it now
is, there was a city--a city of people, you know. Here, where we are
standing, they lived, and walked, and talked, and slept, and carried on
their business. Here they stabled their horses and feasted, from here
they rode out to fight or drove out to trade. They were a powerful
people, and rich, and great builders. They built to last, for they
thought their city would last for ever.’

’But what has become of them all?’ asked the Mole.

’Who can tell?’ said the Badger. ’People come--they stay for a while,
they flourish, they build--and they go. It is their way. But we remain.
There were badgers here, I’ve been told, long before that same city ever
came to be. And now there are badgers here again. We are an enduring
lot, and we may move out for a time, but we wait, and are patient, and
back we come. And so it will ever be.’

’Well, and when they went at last, those people?’ said the Mole.

’When they went,’ continued the Badger, ’the strong winds and persistent
rains took the matter in hand, patiently, ceaselessly, year after year.
Perhaps we badgers too, in our small way, helped a little--who knows?
It was all down, down, down, gradually--ruin and levelling and
disappearance. Then it was all up, up, up, gradually, as seeds grew
to saplings, and saplings to forest trees, and bramble and fern came
creeping in to help. Leaf-mould rose and obliterated, streams in their
winter freshets brought sand and soil to clog and to cover, and in
course of time our home was ready for us again, and we moved in. Up
above us, on the surface, the same thing happened. Animals arrived,
liked the look of the place, took up their quarters, settled down,
spread, and flourished. They didn’t bother themselves about the
past--they never do; they’re too busy. The place was a bit humpy
and hillocky, naturally, and full of holes; but that was rather an
advantage. And they don’t bother about the future, either--the future
when perhaps the people will move in again--for a time--as may very well
be. The Wild Wood is pretty well populated by now; with all the usual
lot, good, bad, and indifferent--I name no names. It takes all sorts to
make a world. But I fancy you know something about them yourself by this
time.’

’I do indeed,’ said the Mole, with a slight shiver.

’Well, well,’ said the Badger, patting him on the shoulder, ’it was your
first experience of them, you see. They’re not so bad really; and we
must all live and let live. But I’ll pass the word around to-morrow, and
I think you’ll have no further trouble. Any friend of MINE walks where
he likes in this country, or I’ll know the reason why!’

When they got back to the kitchen again, they found the Rat walking up
and down, very restless. The underground atmosphere was oppressing him
and getting on his nerves, and he seemed really to be afraid that the
river would run away if he wasn’t there to look after it. So he had his
overcoat on, and his pistols thrust into his belt again. ’Come along,
Mole,’ he said anxiously, as soon as he caught sight of them. ’We must
get off while it’s daylight. Don’t want to spend another night in the
Wild Wood again.’

’It’ll be all right, my fine fellow,’ said the Otter. ’I’m coming along
with you, and I know every path blindfold; and if there’s a head that
needs to be punched, you can confidently rely upon me to punch it.’

’You really needn’t fret, Ratty,’ added the Badger placidly. ’My
passages run further than you think, and I’ve bolt-holes to the edge
of the wood in several directions, though I don’t care for everybody to
know about them. When you really have to go, you shall leave by one of
my short cuts. Meantime, make yourself easy, and sit down again.’

The Rat was nevertheless still anxious to be off and attend to his
river, so the Badger, taking up his lantern again, led the way along a
damp and airless tunnel that wound and dipped, part vaulted, part hewn
through solid rock, for a weary distance that seemed to be miles. At
last daylight began to show itself confusedly through tangled growth
overhanging the mouth of the passage; and the Badger, bidding them
a hasty good-bye, pushed them hurriedly through the opening, made
everything look as natural as possible again, with creepers, brushwood,
and dead leaves, and retreated.

They found themselves standing on the very edge of the Wild Wood. Rocks
and brambles and tree-roots behind them, confusedly heaped and tangled;
in front, a great space of quiet fields, hemmed by lines of hedges black
on the snow, and, far ahead, a glint of the familiar old river, while
the wintry sun hung red and low on the horizon. The Otter, as knowing
all the paths, took charge of the party, and they trailed out on a
bee-line for a distant stile. Pausing there a moment and looking back,
they saw the whole mass of the Wild Wood, dense, menacing, compact,
grimly set in vast white surroundings; simultaneously they turned and
made swiftly for home, for firelight and the familiar things it played
on, for the voice, sounding cheerily outside their window, of the river
that they knew and trusted in all its moods, that never made them afraid
with any amazement.

As he hurried along, eagerly anticipating the moment when he would be at

home again among the things he knew and liked, the Mole saw clearly that
he was an animal of tilled field and hedge-row, linked to the ploughed
furrow, the frequented pasture, the lane of evening lingerings,
the cultivated garden-plot. For others the asperities, the stubborn
endurance, or the clash of actual conflict, that went with Nature in the
rough; he must be wise, must keep to the pleasant places in which his
lines were laid and which held adventure enough, in their way, to last
for a lifetime.

V. DULCE DOMUM

The sheep ran huddling together against the hurdles, blowing out thin
nostrils and stamping with delicate fore-feet, their heads thrown back
and a light steam rising from the crowded sheep-pen into the frosty air,
as the two animals hastened by in high spirits, with much chatter and
laughter. They were returning across country after a long day’s outing
with Otter, hunting and exploring on the wide uplands where certain
streams tributary to their own River had their first small beginnings;
and the shades of the short winter day were closing in on them, and they
had still some distance to go. Plodding at random across the plough,
they had heard the sheep and had made for them; and now, leading from
the sheep-pen, they found a beaten track that made walking a lighter
business, and responded, moreover, to that small inquiring something
which all animals carry inside them, saying unmistakably, ’Yes, quite
right; THIS leads home!’

’It looks as if we were coming to a village,’ said the Mole somewhat

dubiously, slackening his pace, as the track, that had in time become
a path and then had developed into a lane, now handed them over to the
charge of a well-metalled road. The animals did not hold with villages,
and their own highways, thickly frequented as they were, took an
independent course, regardless of church, post office, or public-house.

’Oh, never mind!’ said the Rat. ’At this season of the year they’re
all safe indoors by this time, sitting round the fire; men, women,
and children, dogs and cats and all. We shall slip through all right,
without any bother or unpleasantness, and we can have a look at them
through their windows if you like, and see what they’re doing.’

The rapid nightfall of mid-December had quite beset the little village
as they approached it on soft feet over a first thin fall of powdery
snow. Little was visible but squares of a dusky orange-red on either
side of the street, where the firelight or lamplight of each cottage
overflowed through the casements into the dark world without. Most of
the low latticed windows were innocent of blinds, and to the lookers-in
from outside, the inmates, gathered round the tea-table, absorbed in
handiwork, or talking with laughter and gesture, had each that happy
grace which is the last thing the skilled actor shall capture--the
natural grace which goes with perfect unconsciousness of observation.
Moving at will from one theatre to another, the two spectators, so far
from home themselves, had something of wistfulness in their eyes as they
watched a cat being stroked, a sleepy child picked up and huddled off
to bed, or a tired man stretch and knock out his pipe on the end of a
smouldering log.

But it was from one little window, with its blind drawn down, a mere
blank transparency on the night, that the sense of home and the little
curtained world within walls--the larger stressful world of outside
Nature shut out and forgotten--most pulsated. Close against the white
blind hung a bird-cage, clearly silhouetted, every wire, perch, and
appurtenance distinct and recognisable, even to yesterday’s dull-edged
lump of sugar. On the middle perch the fluffy occupant, head tucked well
into feathers, seemed so near to them as to be easily stroked, had
they tried; even the delicate tips of his plumped-out plumage pencilled
plainly on the illuminated screen. As they looked, the sleepy little
fellow stirred uneasily, woke, shook himself, and raised his head. They
could see the gape of his tiny beak as he yawned in a bored sort of way,
looked round, and then settled his head into his back again, while the
ruffled feathers gradually subsided into perfect stillness. Then a
gust of bitter wind took them in the back of the neck, a small sting of
frozen sleet on the skin woke them as from a dream, and they knew their
toes to be cold and their legs tired, and their own home distant a weary
way.

Once beyond the village, where the cottages ceased abruptly, on either
side of the road they could smell through the darkness the friendly
fields again; and they braced themselves for the last long stretch, the
home stretch, the stretch that we know is bound to end, some time, in
the rattle of the door-latch, the sudden firelight, and the sight of
familiar things greeting us as long-absent travellers from far over-sea.
They plodded along steadily and silently, each of them thinking his own
thoughts. The Mole’s ran a good deal on supper, as it was pitch-dark,
and it was all a strange country for him as far as he knew, and he
was following obediently in the wake of the Rat, leaving the guidance
entirely to him. As for the Rat, he was walking a little way ahead, as
his habit was, his shoulders humped, his eyes fixed on the straight grey
road in front of him; so he did not notice poor Mole when suddenly the
summons reached him, and took him like an electric shock.

We others, who have long lost the more subtle of the physical senses,
have not even proper terms to express an animal’s inter-communications
with his surroundings, living or otherwise, and have only the word
’smell,’ for instance, to include the whole range of delicate thrills
which murmur in the nose of the animal night and day, summoning,
warning? inciting, repelling. It was one of these mysterious fairy calls
from out the void that suddenly reached Mole in the darkness, making him
tingle through and through with its very familiar appeal, even while
yet he could not clearly remember what it was. He stopped dead in
his tracks, his nose searching hither and thither in its efforts to
recapture the fine filament, the telegraphic current, that had so
strongly moved him. A moment, and he had caught it again; and with it
this time came recollection in fullest flood.

Home! That was what they meant, those caressing appeals, those soft
touches wafted through the air, those invisible little hands pulling and
tugging, all one way! Why, it must be quite close by him at that moment,
his old home that he had hurriedly forsaken and never sought again, that
day when he first found the river! And now it was sending out its scouts
and its messengers to capture him and bring him in. Since his escape on
that bright morning he had hardly given it a thought, so absorbed had he
been in his new life, in all its pleasures, its surprises, its fresh and
captivating experiences. Now, with a rush of old memories, how clearly
it stood up before him, in the darkness! Shabby indeed, and small and
poorly furnished, and yet his, the home he had made for himself, the
home he had been so happy to get back to after his day’s work. And the
home had been happy with him, too, evidently, and was missing him, and
wanted him back, and was telling him so, through his nose, sorrowfully,
reproachfully, but with no bitterness or anger; only with plaintive
reminder that it was there, and wanted him.

The call was clear, the summons was plain. He must obey it instantly,
and go. ’Ratty!’ he called, full of joyful excitement, ’hold on! Come
back! I want you, quick!’

’Oh, COME along, Mole, do!’ replied the Rat cheerfully, still plodding
along.

’PLEASE stop, Ratty!’ pleaded the poor Mole, in anguish of heart. ’You
don’t understand! It’s my home, my old home! I’ve just come across the
smell of it, and it’s close by here, really quite close. And I MUST go
to it, I must, I must! Oh, come back, Ratty! Please, please come back!’

The Rat was by this time very far ahead, too far to hear clearly what
the Mole was calling, too far to catch the sharp note of painful appeal
in his voice. And he was much taken up with the weather, for he too
could smell something--something suspiciously like approaching snow.

’Mole, we mustn’t stop now, really!’ he called back. ’We’ll come for
it to-morrow, whatever it is you’ve found. But I daren’t stop now--it’s
late, and the snow’s coming on again, and I’m not sure of the way! And I
want your nose, Mole, so come on quick, there’s a good fellow!’ And the
Rat pressed forward on his way without waiting for an answer.
Poor Mole stood alone in the road, his heart torn asunder, and a big sob
gathering, gathering, somewhere low down inside him, to leap up to the
surface presently, he knew, in passionate escape. But even under such
a test as this his loyalty to his friend stood firm. Never for a moment
did he dream of abandoning him. Meanwhile, the wafts from his old home
pleaded, whispered, conjured, and finally claimed him imperiously. He
dared not tarry longer within their magic circle. With a wrench that
tore his very heartstrings he set his face down the road and followed
submissively in the track of the Rat, while faint, thin little smells,
still dogging his retreating nose, reproached him for his new friendship
and his callous forgetfulness.

With an effort he caught up to the unsuspecting Rat, who began

chattering cheerfully about what they would do when they got back, and
how jolly a fire of logs in the parlour would be, and what a supper he
meant to eat; never noticing his companion’s silence and distressful
state of mind. At last, however, when they had gone some considerable
way further, and were passing some tree-stumps at the edge of a copse
that bordered the road, he stopped and said kindly, ’Look here, Mole old
chap, you seem dead tired. No talk left in you, and your feet dragging
like lead. We’ll sit down here for a minute and rest. The snow has held
off so far, and the best part of our journey is over.’

The Mole subsided forlornly on a tree-stump and tried to control

himself, for he felt it surely coming. The sob he had fought with so
long refused to be beaten. Up and up, it forced its way to the air, and
then another, and another, and others thick and fast; till poor Mole at
last gave up the struggle, and cried freely and helplessly and openly,
now that he knew it was all over and he had lost what he could hardly be
said to have found.

The Rat, astonished and dismayed at the violence of Mole’s paroxysm of

grief, did not dare to speak for a while. At last he said, very quietly
and sympathetically, ’What is it, old fellow? Whatever can be the
matter? Tell us your trouble, and let me see what I can do.’

Poor Mole found it difficult to get any words out between the upheavals
of his chest that followed one upon another so quickly and held back
speech and choked it as it came. ’I know it’s a--shabby, dingy little
place,’ he sobbed forth at last, brokenly: ’not like--your cosy
quarters--or Toad’s beautiful hall--or Badger’s great house--but it was
my own little home--and I was fond of it--and I went away and forgot all
about it--and then I smelt it suddenly--on the road, when I called
and you wouldn’t listen, Rat--and everything came back to me with a
rush--and I WANTED it!--O dear, O dear!--and when you WOULDN’T turn
back, Ratty--and I had to leave it, though I was smelling it all the
time--I thought my heart would break.--We might have just gone and had
one look at it, Ratty--only one look--it was close by--but you wouldn’t
turn back, Ratty, you wouldn’t turn back! O dear, O dear!’

Recollection brought fresh waves of sorrow, and sobs again took full
charge of him, preventing further speech.

The Rat stared straight in front of him, saying nothing, only patting
Mole gently on the shoulder. After a time he muttered gloomily, ’I see
it all now! What a PIG I have been! A pig--that’s me! Just a pig--a
plain pig!’

He waited till Mole’s sobs became gradually less stormy and more
rhythmical; he waited till at last sniffs were frequent and sobs only
intermittent. Then he rose from his seat, and, remarking carelessly,
’Well, now we’d really better be getting on, old chap!’ set off up the
road again, over the toilsome way they had come.

’Wherever are you (hic) going to (hic), Ratty?’ cried the tearful Mole,
looking up in alarm.

’We’re going to find that home of yours, old fellow,’ replied the
Rat pleasantly; ’so you had better come along, for it will take some
finding, and we shall want your nose.’

’Oh, come back, Ratty, do!’ cried the Mole, getting up and hurrying
after him. ’It’s no good, I tell you! It’s too late, and too dark, and
the place is too far off, and the snow’s coming! And--and I never meant
to let you know I was feeling that way about it--it was all an accident
and a mistake! And think of River Bank, and your supper!’

’Hang River Bank, and supper too!’ said the Rat heartily. ’I tell you,
I’m going to find this place now, if I stay out all night. So cheer up,
old chap, and take my arm, and we’ll very soon be back there again.’

Still snuffling, pleading, and reluctant, Mole suffered himself to be

dragged back along the road by his imperious companion, who by a flow of
cheerful talk and anecdote endeavoured to beguile his spirits back and
make the weary way seem shorter. When at last it seemed to the Rat that
they must be nearing that part of the road where the Mole had been ’held
up,’ he said, ’Now, no more talking. Business! Use your nose, and give
your mind to it.’

They moved on in silence for some little way, when suddenly the Rat was
conscious, through his arm that was linked in Mole’s, of a faint sort of
electric thrill that was passing down that animal’s body. Instantly he
disengaged himself, fell back a pace, and waited, all attention.

The signals were coming through!

Mole stood a moment rigid, while his uplifted nose, quivering slightly,
felt the air.

Then a short, quick run forward--a fault--a check--a try back; and then
a slow, steady, confident advance.

The Rat, much excited, kept close to his heels as the Mole, with
something of the air of a sleep-walker, crossed a dry ditch, scrambled
through a hedge, and nosed his way over a field open and trackless and
bare in the faint starlight.

Suddenly, without giving warning, he dived; but the Rat was on the
alert, and promptly followed him down the tunnel to which his unerring
nose had faithfully led him.

It was close and airless, and the earthy smell was strong, and it seemed
a long time to Rat ere the passage ended and he could stand erect and
stretch and shake himself. The Mole struck a match, and by its light
the Rat saw that they were standing in an open space, neatly swept and
sanded underfoot, and directly facing them was Mole’s little front door,
with ’Mole End’ painted, in Gothic lettering, over the bell-pull at the
side.

Mole reached down a lantern from a nail on the wail and lit it, and the
Rat, looking round him, saw that they were in a sort of fore-court. A
garden-seat stood on one side of the door, and on the other a roller;
for the Mole, who was a tidy animal when at home, could not stand having
his ground kicked up by other animals into little runs that ended
in earth-heaps. On the walls hung wire baskets with ferns in them,
alternating with brackets carrying plaster statuary--Garibaldi, and the
infant Samuel, and Queen Victoria, and other heroes of modern Italy.
Down on one side of the forecourt ran a skittle-alley, with benches
along it and little wooden tables marked with rings that hinted at
beer-mugs. In the middle was a small round pond containing gold-fish and
surrounded by a cockle-shell border. Out of the centre of the pond rose
a fanciful erection clothed in more cockle-shells and topped by a large
silvered glass ball that reflected everything all wrong and had a very
pleasing effect.

Mole’s face-beamed at the sight of all these objects so dear to him, and
he hurried Rat through the door, lit a lamp in the hall, and took one
glance round his old home. He saw the dust lying thick on everything,
saw the cheerless, deserted look of the long-neglected house, and its
narrow, meagre dimensions, its worn and shabby contents--and collapsed
again on a hall-chair, his nose to his paws. ’O Ratty!’ he cried
dismally, ’why ever did I do it? Why did I bring you to this poor, cold
little place, on a night like this, when you might have been at River
Bank by this time, toasting your toes before a blazing fire, with all
your own nice things about you!’

The Rat paid no heed to his doleful self-reproaches. He was running here
and there, opening doors, inspecting rooms and cupboards, and lighting
lamps and candles and sticking them, up everywhere. ’What a capital
little house this is!’ he called out cheerily. ’So compact! So well
planned! Everything here and everything in its place! We’ll make a jolly
night of it. The first thing we want is a good fire; I’ll see to that--I
always know where to find things. So this is the parlour? Splendid! Your
own idea, those little sleeping-bunks in the wall? Capital! Now, I’ll
fetch the wood and the coals, and you get a duster, Mole--you’ll find
one in the drawer of the kitchen table--and try and smarten things up a
bit. Bustle about, old chap!’

Encouraged by his inspiriting companion, the Mole roused himself and

dusted and polished with energy and heartiness, while the Rat, running
to and fro with armfuls of fuel, soon had a cheerful blaze roaring
up the chimney. He hailed the Mole to come and warm himself; but Mole
promptly had another fit of the blues, dropping down on a couch in dark
despair and burying his face in his duster. ’Rat,’ he moaned, ’how about
your supper, you poor, cold, hungry, weary animal? I’ve nothing to give
you--nothing--not a crumb!’

’What a fellow you are for giving in!’ said the Rat reproachfully.
’Why, only just now I saw a sardine-opener on the kitchen dresser, quite
distinctly; and everybody knows that means there are sardines about
somewhere in the neighbourhood. Rouse yourself! pull yourself together,
and come with me and forage.’

They went and foraged accordingly, hunting through every cupboard and
turning out every drawer. The result was not so very depressing after
all, though of course it might have been better; a tin of sardines--a
box of captain’s biscuits, nearly full--and a German sausage encased in
silver paper.

’There’s a banquet for you!’ observed the Rat, as he arranged the table.
’I know some animals who would give their ears to be sitting down to
supper with us to-night!’

’No bread!’ groaned the Mole dolorously; ’no butter, no----’

’No pate de foie gras, no champagne!’ continued the Rat, grinning. ’And
that reminds me--what’s that little door at the end of the passage? Your
cellar, of course! Every luxury in this house! Just you wait a minute.’

He made for the cellar-door, and presently reappeared, somewhat

dusty, with a bottle of beer in each paw and another under each arm,
’Self-indulgent beggar you seem to be, Mole,’ he observed. ’Deny
yourself nothing. This is really the jolliest little place I ever was
in. Now, wherever did you pick up those prints? Make the place look so
home-like, they do. No wonder you’re so fond of it, Mole. Tell us all
about it, and how you came to make it what it is.’

Then, while the Rat busied himself fetching plates, and knives and
forks, and mustard which he mixed in an egg-cup, the Mole, his bosom
still heaving with the stress of his recent emotion, related--somewhat
shyly at first, but with more freedom as he warmed to his subject--how
this was planned, and how that was thought out, and how this was got
through a windfall from an aunt, and that was a wonderful find and a
bargain, and this other thing was bought out of laborious savings and a
certain amount of ’going without.’ His spirits finally quite restored,
he must needs go and caress his possessions, and take a lamp and show
off their points to his visitor and expatiate on them, quite forgetful
of the supper they both so much needed; Rat, who was desperately hungry
but strove to conceal it, nodding seriously, examining with a puckered
brow, and saying, ’wonderful,’ and ’most remarkable,’ at intervals, when
the chance for an observation was given him.

At last the Rat succeeded in decoying him to the table, and had just got
seriously to work with the sardine-opener when sounds were heard from
the fore-court without--sounds like the scuffling of small feet in the
gravel and a confused murmur of tiny voices, while broken sentences
reached them--’Now, all in a line--hold the lantern up a bit,
Tommy--clear your throats first--no coughing after I say one, two,
three.--Where’s young Bill?--Here, come on, do, we’re all a-waiting----’

’What’s up?’ inquired the Rat, pausing in his labours.

’I think it must be the field-mice,’ replied the Mole, with a touch of

pride in his manner. ’They go round carol-singing regularly at this time
of the year. They’re quite an institution in these parts. And they never
pass me over--they come to Mole End last of all; and I used to give them
hot drinks, and supper too sometimes, when I could afford it. It will be
like old times to hear them again.’

’Let’s have a look at them!’ cried the Rat, jumping up and running to
the door.

It was a pretty sight, and a seasonable one, that met their eyes when
they flung the door open. In the fore-court, lit by the dim rays of a
horn lantern, some eight or ten little fieldmice stood in a semicircle,
red worsted comforters round their throats, their fore-paws thrust deep
into their pockets, their feet jigging for warmth. With bright beady
eyes they glanced shyly at each other, sniggering a little, sniffing and
applying coat-sleeves a good deal. As the door opened, one of the elder
ones that carried the lantern was just saying, ’Now then, one, two,
three!’ and forthwith their shrill little voices uprose on the air,
singing one of the old-time carols that their forefathers composed in
fields that were fallow and held by frost, or when snow-bound in chimney
corners, and handed down to be sung in the miry street to lamp-lit
windows at Yule-time.

CAROL

Villagers all, this frosty tide, Let your doors swing open wide, Though
wind may follow, and snow beside, Yet draw us in by your fire to bide;
Joy shall be yours in the morning!

Here we stand in the cold and the sleet, Blowing fingers and stamping
feet, Come from far away you to greet--You by the fire and we in the
street--Bidding you joy in the morning!

For ere one half of the night was gone, Sudden a star has led us on,
Raining bliss and benison--Bliss to-morrow and more anon, Joy for every
morning!

Goodman Joseph toiled through the snow--Saw the star o’er a stable low;
Mary she might not further go--Welcome thatch, and litter below! Joy was
hers in the morning!

And then they heard the angels tell ’Who were the first to cry NOWELL?
Animals all, as it befell, In the stable where they did dwell! Joy shall
be theirs in the morning!’

The voices ceased, the singers, bashful but smiling, exchanged sidelong
glances, and silence succeeded--but for a moment only. Then, from up
above and far away, down the tunnel they had so lately travelled was
borne to their ears in a faint musical hum the sound of distant bells
ringing a joyful and clangorous peal.

’Very well sung, boys!’ cried the Rat heartily. ’And now come along in,
all of you, and warm yourselves by the fire, and have something hot!’

’Yes, come along, field-mice,’ cried the Mole eagerly. ’This is quite
like old times! Shut the door after you. Pull up that settle to the
fire. Now, you just wait a minute, while we--O, Ratty!’ he cried in
despair, plumping down on a seat, with tears impending. ’Whatever are we
doing? We’ve nothing to give them!’

’You leave all that to me,’ said the masterful Rat. ’Here, you with the
lantern! Come over this way. I want to talk to you. Now, tell me, are
there any shops open at this hour of the night?’

’Why, certainly, sir,’ replied the field-mouse respectfully. ’At this

time of the year our shops keep open to all sorts of hours.’

’Then look here!’ said the Rat. ’You go off at once, you and your
lantern, and you get me----’

Here much muttered conversation ensued, and the Mole only heard bits
of it, such as--’Fresh, mind!--no, a pound of that will do--see you get
Buggins’s, for I won’t have any other--no, only the best--if you can’t
get it there, try somewhere else--yes, of course, home-made, no tinned
stuff--well then, do the best you can!’ Finally, there was a chink of
coin passing from paw to paw, the field-mouse was provided with an ample
basket for his purchases, and off he hurried, he and his lantern.

The rest of the field-mice, perched in a row on the settle, their small
legs swinging, gave themselves up to enjoyment of the fire, and toasted
their chilblains till they tingled; while the Mole, failing to draw them
into easy conversation, plunged into family history and made each of
them recite the names of his numerous brothers, who were too young,
it appeared, to be allowed to go out a-carolling this year, but looked
forward very shortly to winning the parental consent.

The Rat, meanwhile, was busy examining the label on one of the
beer-bottles. ’I perceive this to be Old Burton,’ he remarked
approvingly. ’SENSIBLE Mole! The very thing! Now we shall be able to
mull some ale! Get the things ready, Mole, while I draw the corks.’

It did not take long to prepare the brew and thrust the tin heater well
into the red heart of the fire; and soon every field-mouse was sipping
and coughing and choking (for a little mulled ale goes a long way) and
wiping his eyes and laughing and forgetting he had ever been cold in all
his life.

’They act plays too, these fellows,’ the Mole explained to the Rat.
’Make them up all by themselves, and act them afterwards. And very
well they do it, too! They gave us a capital one last year, about a
field-mouse who was captured at sea by a Barbary corsair, and made to
row in a galley; and when he escaped and got home again, his lady-love
had gone into a convent. Here, YOU! You were in it, I remember. Get up
and recite a bit.’

The field-mouse addressed got up on his legs, giggled shyly, looked

round the room, and remained absolutely tongue-tied. His comrades
cheered him on, Mole coaxed and encouraged him, and the Rat went so
far as to take him by the shoulders and shake him; but nothing could
overcome his stage-fright. They were all busily engaged on him like
watermen applying the Royal Humane Society’s regulations to a case
of long submersion, when the latch clicked, the door opened, and the
field-mouse with the lantern reappeared, staggering under the weight of
his basket.

There was no more talk of play-acting once the very real and solid
contents of the basket had been tumbled out on the table. Under the
generalship of Rat, everybody was set to do something or to fetch
something. In a very few minutes supper was ready, and Mole, as he took
the head of the table in a sort of a dream, saw a lately barren board
set thick with savoury comforts; saw his little friends’ faces brighten
and beam as they fell to without delay; and then let himself loose--for
he was famished indeed--on the provender so magically provided, thinking
what a happy home-coming this had turned out, after all. As they ate,
they talked of old times, and the field-mice gave him the local gossip
up to date, and answered as well as they could the hundred questions he
had to ask them. The Rat said little or nothing, only taking care that
each guest had what he wanted, and plenty of it, and that Mole had no
trouble or anxiety about anything.

They clattered off at last, very grateful and showering wishes of the
season, with their jacket pockets stuffed with remembrances for the
small brothers and sisters at home. When the door had closed on the last
of them and the chink of the lanterns had died away, Mole and Rat kicked
the fire up, drew their chairs in, brewed themselves a last nightcap of
mulled ale, and discussed the events of the long day. At last the Rat,
with a tremendous yawn, said, ’Mole, old chap, I’m ready to drop. Sleepy
is simply not the word. That your own bunk over on that side? Very well,
then, I’ll take this. What a ripping little house this is! Everything so
handy!’

He clambered into his bunk and rolled himself well up in the blankets,
and slumber gathered him forthwith, as a swathe of barley is folded into
the arms of the reaping machine.

The weary Mole also was glad to turn in without delay, and soon had his
head on his pillow, in great joy and contentment. But ere he closed his
eyes he let them wander round his old room, mellow in the glow of the
firelight that played or rested on familiar and friendly things which
had long been unconsciously a part of him, and now smilingly received
him back, without rancour. He was now in just the frame of mind that the
tactful Rat had quietly worked to bring about in him. He saw clearly how
plain and simple--how narrow, even--it all was; but clearly, too, how
much it all meant to him, and the special value of some such anchorage
in one’s existence. He did not at all want to abandon the new life
and its splendid spaces, to turn his back on sun and air and all they
offered him and creep home and stay there; the upper world was all too
strong, it called to him still, even down there, and he knew he must
return to the larger stage. But it was good to think he had this to come
back to; this place which was all his own, these things which were so
glad to see him again and could always be counted upon for the same
simple welcome.

VI. MR. TOAD

It was a bright morning in the early part of summer; the river had
resumed its wonted banks and its accustomed pace, and a hot sun seemed
to be pulling everything green and bushy and spiky up out of the earth
towards him, as if by strings. The Mole and the Water Rat had been up
since dawn, very busy on matters connected with boats and the opening of
the boating season; painting and varnishing, mending paddles, repairing
cushions, hunting for missing boat-hooks, and so on; and were finishing
breakfast in their little parlour and eagerly discussing their plans for
the day, when a heavy knock sounded at the door.

’Bother!’ said the Rat, all over egg. ’See who it is, Mole, like a good
chap, since you’ve finished.’

The Mole went to attend the summons, and the Rat heard him utter a cry
of surprise. Then he flung the parlour door open, and announced with
much importance, ’Mr. Badger!’

This was a wonderful thing, indeed, that the Badger should pay a formal
call on them, or indeed on anybody. He generally had to be caught, if
you wanted him badly, as he slipped quietly along a hedgerow of an early
morning or a late evening, or else hunted up in his own house in the
middle of the Wood, which was a serious undertaking.

The Badger strode heavily into the room, and stood looking at the
two animals with an expression full of seriousness. The Rat let his
egg-spoon fall on the table-cloth, and sat open-mouthed.
’The hour has come!’ said the Badger at last with great solemnity.

’What hour?’ asked the Rat uneasily, glancing at the clock on the
mantelpiece.

’WHOSE hour, you should rather say,’ replied the Badger. ’Why, Toad’s
hour! The hour of Toad! I said I would take him in hand as soon as the
winter was well over, and I’m going to take him in hand to-day!’

’Toad’s hour, of course!’ cried the Mole delightedly. ’Hooray! I

remember now! WE’LL teach him to be a sensible Toad!’

’This very morning,’ continued the Badger, taking an arm-chair, ’as

I learnt last night from a trustworthy source, another new and
exceptionally powerful motor-car will arrive at Toad Hall on approval or
return. At this very moment, perhaps, Toad is busy arraying himself in
those singularly hideous habiliments so dear to him, which transform him
from a (comparatively) good-looking Toad into an Object which throws any
decent-minded animal that comes across it into a violent fit. We must
be up and doing, ere it is too late. You two animals will accompany me
instantly to Toad Hall, and the work of rescue shall be accomplished.’

’Right you are!’ cried the Rat, starting up. ’We’ll rescue the poor
unhappy animal! We’ll convert him! He’ll be the most converted Toad that
ever was before we’ve done with him!’

They set off up the road on their mission of mercy, Badger leading the
way. Animals when in company walk in a proper and sensible manner, in
single file, instead of sprawling all across the road and being of no
use or support to each other in case of sudden trouble or danger.

They reached the carriage-drive of Toad Hall to find, as the Badger had
anticipated, a shiny new motor-car, of great size, painted a bright
red (Toad’s favourite colour), standing in front of the house. As they
neared the door it was flung open, and Mr. Toad, arrayed in goggles,
cap, gaiters, and enormous overcoat, came swaggering down the steps,
drawing on his gauntleted gloves.

’Hullo! come on, you fellows!’ he cried cheerfully on catching sight of

them. ’You’re just in time to come with me for a jolly--to come for a
jolly--for a--er--jolly----’

His hearty accents faltered and fell away as he noticed the stern
unbending look on the countenances of his silent friends, and his
invitation remained unfinished.

The Badger strode up the steps. ’Take him inside,’ he said sternly to
his companions. Then, as Toad was hustled through the door, struggling
and protesting, he turned to the chauffeur in charge of the new
motor-car.

’I’m afraid you won’t be wanted to-day,’ he said. ’Mr. Toad has changed
his mind. He will not require the car. Please understand that this is
final. You needn’t wait.’ Then he followed the others inside and shut
the door.

’Now then!’ he said to the Toad, when the four of them stood together in
the Hall, ’first of all, take those ridiculous things off!’

’Shan’t!’ replied Toad, with great spirit. ’What is the meaning of this
gross outrage? I demand an instant explanation.’

’Take them off him, then, you two,’ ordered the Badger briefly.

They had to lay Toad out on the floor, kicking and calling all sorts of
names, before they could get to work properly. Then the Rat sat on him,
and the Mole got his motor-clothes off him bit by bit, and they stood
him up on his legs again. A good deal of his blustering spirit seemed
to have evaporated with the removal of his fine panoply. Now that he was
merely Toad, and no longer the Terror of the Highway, he giggled
feebly and looked from one to the other appealingly, seeming quite to
understand the situation.

’You knew it must come to this, sooner or later, Toad,’ the Badger
explained severely.

You’ve disregarded all the warnings we’ve given you, you’ve gone on
squandering the money your father left you, and you’re getting us
animals a bad name in the district by your furious driving and your
smashes and your rows with the police. Independence is all very well,
but we animals never allow our friends to make fools of themselves
beyond a certain limit; and that limit you’ve reached. Now, you’re a
good fellow in many respects, and I don’t want to be too hard on you.
I’ll make one more effort to bring you to reason. You will come with
me into the smoking-room, and there you will hear some facts about
yourself; and we’ll see whether you come out of that room the same Toad
that you went in.’

He took Toad firmly by the arm, led him into the smoking-room, and
closed the door behind them.

’THAT’S no good!’ said the Rat contemptuously. ’TALKING to Toad’ll never

cure him. He’ll SAY anything.’

They made themselves comfortable in armchairs and waited patiently.

Through the closed door they could just hear the long continuous drone
of the Badger’s voice, rising and falling in waves of oratory; and
presently they noticed that the sermon began to be punctuated at
intervals by long-drawn sobs, evidently proceeding from the bosom
of Toad, who was a soft-hearted and affectionate fellow, very easily
converted--for the time being--to any point of view.

After some three-quarters of an hour the door opened, and the Badger
reappeared, solemnly leading by the paw a very limp and dejected Toad.
His skin hung baggily about him, his legs wobbled, and his cheeks were
furrowed by the tears so plentifully called forth by the Badger’s moving
discourse.

’Sit down there, Toad,’ said the Badger kindly, pointing to a chair. ’My
friends,’ he went on, ’I am pleased to inform you that Toad has at last
seen the error of his ways. He is truly sorry for his misguided conduct
in the past, and he has undertaken to give up motor-cars entirely and
for ever. I have his solemn promise to that effect.’

’That is very good news,’ said the Mole gravely.

’Very good news indeed,’ observed the Rat dubiously, ’if only--IF
only----’

He was looking very hard at Toad as he said this, and could not help
thinking he perceived something vaguely resembling a twinkle in that
animal’s still sorrowful eye.

’There’s only one thing more to be done,’ continued the gratified

Badger. ’Toad, I want you solemnly to repeat, before your friends here,
what you fully admitted to me in the smoking-room just now. First, you
are sorry for what you’ve done, and you see the folly of it all?’

There was a long, long pause. Toad looked desperately this way and that,
while the other animals waited in grave silence. At last he spoke.

’No!’ he said, a little sullenly, but stoutly; ’I’m NOT sorry. And it
wasn’t folly at all! It was simply glorious!’

’What?’ cried the Badger, greatly scandalised. ’You backsliding animal,

didn’t you tell me just now, in there----’

’Oh, yes, yes, in THERE,’ said Toad impatiently. ’I’d have said anything
in THERE. You’re so eloquent, dear Badger, and so moving, and so
convincing, and put all your points so frightfully well--you can do what
you like with me in THERE, and you know it. But I’ve been searching my
mind since, and going over things in it, and I find that I’m not a bit
sorry or repentant really, so it’s no earthly good saying I am; now, is
it?’

’Then you don’t promise,’ said the Badger, ’never to touch a motor-car
again?’

’Certainly not!’ replied Toad emphatically. ’On the contrary, I

faithfully promise that the very first motor-car I see, poop-poop! off I
go in it!’

’Told you so, didn’t I?’ observed the Rat to the Mole.

’Very well, then,’ said the Badger firmly, rising to his feet. ’Since
you won’t yield to persuasion, we’ll try what force can do. I feared it
would come to this all along. You’ve often asked us three to come and
stay with you, Toad, in this handsome house of yours; well, now we’re
going to. When we’ve converted you to a proper point of view we may
quit, but not before. Take him upstairs, you two, and lock him up in his
bedroom, while we arrange matters between ourselves.’

’It’s for your own good, Toady, you know,’ said the Rat kindly, as Toad,
kicking and struggling, was hauled up the stairs by his two faithful
friends. ’Think what fun we shall all have together, just as we used to,
when you’ve quite got over this--this painful attack of yours!’

’We’ll take great care of everything for you till you’re well, Toad,’
said the Mole; ’and we’ll see your money isn’t wasted, as it has been.’

’No more of those regrettable incidents with the police, Toad,’ said the
Rat, as they thrust him into his bedroom.

’And no more weeks in hospital, being ordered about by female nurses,

Toad,’ added the Mole, turning the key on him.

They descended the stair, Toad shouting abuse at them through the
keyhole; and the three friends then met in conference on the situation.

’It’s going to be a tedious business,’ said the Badger, sighing. ’I’ve

never seen Toad so determined. However, we will see it out. He must
never be left an instant unguarded. We shall have to take it in turns to
be with him, till the poison has worked itself out of his system.’

They arranged watches accordingly. Each animal took it in turns to sleep

in Toad’s room at night, and they divided the day up between them. At
first Toad was undoubtedly very trying to his careful guardians. When
his violent paroxysms possessed him he would arrange bedroom chairs
in rude resemblance of a motor-car and would crouch on the foremost of
them, bent forward and staring fixedly ahead, making uncouth and
ghastly noises, till the climax was reached, when, turning a complete
somersault, he would lie prostrate amidst the ruins of the chairs,
apparently completely satisfied for the moment. As time passed, however,
these painful seizures grew gradually less frequent, and his friends
strove to divert his mind into fresh channels. But his interest in
other matters did not seem to revive, and he grew apparently languid and
depressed.

One fine morning the Rat, whose turn it was to go on duty, went upstairs
to relieve Badger, whom he found fidgeting to be off and stretch his
legs in a long ramble round his wood and down his earths and burrows.
’Toad’s still in bed,’ he told the Rat, outside the door. ’Can’t get
much out of him, except, "O leave him alone, he wants nothing, perhaps
he’ll be better presently, it may pass off in time, don’t be unduly
anxious," and so on. Now, you look out, Rat! When Toad’s quiet and
submissive and playing at being the hero of a Sunday-school prize, then
he’s at his artfullest. There’s sure to be something up. I know him.
Well, now, I must be off.’

’How are you to-day, old chap?’ inquired the Rat cheerfully, as he
approached Toad’s bedside.

He had to wait some minutes for an answer. At last a feeble voice

replied, ’Thank you so much, dear Ratty! So good of you to inquire! But
first tell me how you are yourself, and the excellent Mole?’

’O, WE’RE all right,’ replied the Rat. ’Mole,’ he added incautiously,
’is going out for a run round with Badger. They’ll be out till luncheon
time, so you and I will spend a pleasant morning together, and I’ll do
my best to amuse you. Now jump up, there’s a good fellow, and don’t lie
moping there on a fine morning like this!’

’Dear, kind Rat,’ murmured Toad, ’how little you realise my condition,
and how very far I am from "jumping up" now--if ever! But do not trouble
about me. I hate being a burden to my friends, and I do not expect to be
one much longer. Indeed, I almost hope not.’

’Well, I hope not, too,’ said the Rat heartily. ’You’ve been a fine
bother to us all this time, and I’m glad to hear it’s going to stop. And
in weather like this, and the boating season just beginning! It’s too
bad of you, Toad! It isn’t the trouble we mind, but you’re making us
miss such an awful lot.’

’I’m afraid it IS the trouble you mind, though,’ replied the Toad
languidly. ’I can quite understand it. It’s natural enough. You’re tired
of bothering about me. I mustn’t ask you to do anything further. I’m a
nuisance, I know.’

’You are, indeed,’ said the Rat. ’But I tell you, I’d take any trouble
on earth for you, if only you’d be a sensible animal.’
’If I thought that, Ratty,’ murmured Toad, more feebly than ever, ’then
I would beg you--for the last time, probably--to step round to the
village as quickly as possible--even now it may be too late--and fetch
the doctor. But don’t you bother. It’s only a trouble, and perhaps we
may as well let things take their course.’

’Why, what do you want a doctor for?’ inquired the Rat, coming closer
and examining him. He certainly lay very still and flat, and his voice
was weaker and his manner much changed.

’Surely you have noticed of late----’ murmured Toad. ’But, no--why

should you? Noticing things is only a trouble. To-morrow, indeed, you
may be saying to yourself, "O, if only I had noticed sooner! If only I
had done something!" But no; it’s a trouble. Never mind--forget that I
asked.’

’Look here, old man,’ said the Rat, beginning to get rather alarmed, ’of
course I’ll fetch a doctor to you, if you really think you want him. But
you can hardly be bad enough for that yet. Let’s talk about something
else.’

’I fear, dear friend,’ said Toad, with a sad smile, ’that "talk" can do
little in a case like this--or doctors either, for that matter; still,
one must grasp at the slightest straw. And, by the way--while you
are about it--I HATE to give you additional trouble, but I happen to
remember that you will pass the door--would you mind at the same time
asking the lawyer to step up? It would be a convenience to me, and there
are moments--perhaps I should say there is A moment--when one must face
disagreeable tasks, at whatever cost to exhausted nature!’

’A lawyer! O, he must be really bad!’ the affrighted Rat said to

himself, as he hurried from the room, not forgetting, however, to lock
the door carefully behind him.

Outside, he stopped to consider. The other two were far away, and he had
no one to consult.

’It’s best to be on the safe side,’ he said, on reflection. ’I’ve known

Toad fancy himself frightfully bad before, without the slightest reason;
but I’ve never heard him ask for a lawyer! If there’s nothing really the
matter, the doctor will tell him he’s an old ass, and cheer him up; and
that will be something gained. I’d better humour him and go; it won’t
take very long.’ So he ran off to the village on his errand of mercy.

The Toad, who had hopped lightly out of bed as soon as he heard the
key turned in the lock, watched him eagerly from the window till he
disappeared down the carriage-drive. Then, laughing heartily, he dressed
as quickly as possible in the smartest suit he could lay hands on at the
moment, filled his pockets with cash which he took from a small drawer
in the dressing-table, and next, knotting the sheets from his bed
together and tying one end of the improvised rope round the central
mullion of the handsome Tudor window which formed such a feature of his
bedroom, he scrambled out, slid lightly to the ground, and, taking the
opposite direction to the Rat, marched off lightheartedly, whistling a
merry tune.

It was a gloomy luncheon for Rat when the Badger and the Mole at
length returned, and he had to face them at table with his pitiful and
unconvincing story. The Badger’s caustic, not to say brutal, remarks may
be imagined, and therefore passed over; but it was painful to the Rat
that even the Mole, though he took his friend’s side as far as possible,
could not help saying, ’You’ve been a bit of a duffer this time, Ratty!
Toad, too, of all animals!’

’He did it awfully well,’ said the crestfallen Rat.

’He did YOU awfully well!’ rejoined the Badger hotly. ’However, talking
won’t mend matters. He’s got clear away for the time, that’s certain;
and the worst of it is, he’ll be so conceited with what he’ll think is
his cleverness that he may commit any folly. One comfort is, we’re free
now, and needn’t waste any more of our precious time doing sentry-go.
But we’d better continue to sleep at Toad Hall for a while longer.
Toad may be brought back at any moment--on a stretcher, or between two
policemen.’

So spoke the Badger, not knowing what the future held in store, or how
much water, and of how turbid a character, was to run under bridges
before Toad should sit at ease again in his ancestral Hall.

Meanwhile, Toad, gay and irresponsible, was walking briskly along the
high road, some miles from home. At first he had taken by-paths, and
crossed many fields, and changed his course several times, in case of
pursuit; but now, feeling by this time safe from recapture, and the sun
smiling brightly on him, and all Nature joining in a chorus of approval
to the song of self-praise that his own heart was singing to him, he
almost danced along the road in his satisfaction and conceit.

’Smart piece of work that!’ he remarked to himself chuckling. ’Brain

against brute force--and brain came out on the top--as it’s bound to
do. Poor old Ratty! My! won’t he catch it when the Badger gets back!
A worthy fellow, Ratty, with many good qualities, but very little
intelligence and absolutely no education. I must take him in hand some
day, and see if I can make something of him.’

Filled full of conceited thoughts such as these he strode along, his

head in the air, till he reached a little town, where the sign of
’The Red Lion,’ swinging across the road halfway down the main street,
reminded him that he had not breakfasted that day, and that he was
exceedingly hungry after his long walk. He marched into the Inn, ordered
the best luncheon that could be provided at so short a notice, and sat
down to eat it in the coffee-room.

He was about half-way through his meal when an only too familiar sound,
approaching down the street, made him start and fall a-trembling all
over. The poop-poop! drew nearer and nearer, the car could be heard to
turn into the inn-yard and come to a stop, and Toad had to hold on to
the leg of the table to conceal his over-mastering emotion. Presently
the party entered the coffee-room, hungry, talkative, and gay, voluble
on their experiences of the morning and the merits of the chariot that
had brought them along so well. Toad listened eagerly, all ears, for a
time; at last he could stand it no longer. He slipped out of the
room quietly, paid his bill at the bar, and as soon as he got outside
sauntered round quietly to the inn-yard. ’There cannot be any harm,’ he
said to himself, ’in my only just LOOKING at it!’

The car stood in the middle of the yard, quite unattended, the
stable-helps and other hangers-on being all at their dinner. Toad walked
slowly round it, inspecting, criticising, musing deeply.
’I wonder,’ he said to himself presently, ’I wonder if this sort of car
STARTS easily?’

Next moment, hardly knowing how it came about, he found he had hold of
the handle and was turning it. As the familiar sound broke forth, the
old passion seized on Toad and completely mastered him, body and soul.
As if in a dream he found himself, somehow, seated in the driver’s seat;
as if in a dream, he pulled the lever and swung the car round the yard
and out through the archway; and, as if in a dream, all sense of
right and wrong, all fear of obvious consequences, seemed temporarily
suspended. He increased his pace, and as the car devoured the street
and leapt forth on the high road through the open country, he was only
conscious that he was Toad once more, Toad at his best and highest, Toad
the terror, the traffic-queller, the Lord of the lone trail, before whom
all must give way or be smitten into nothingness and everlasting night.
He chanted as he flew, and the car responded with sonorous drone; the
miles were eaten up under him as he sped he knew not whither, fulfilling
his instincts, living his hour, reckless of what might come to him.

* * * * * *

’To my mind,’ observed the Chairman of the Bench of Magistrates

cheerfully, ’the ONLY difficulty that presents itself in this otherwise
very clear case is, how we can possibly make it sufficiently hot for the
incorrigible rogue and hardened ruffian whom we see cowering in the
dock before us. Let me see: he has been found guilty, on the clearest
evidence, first, of stealing a valuable motor-car; secondly, of driving
to the public danger; and, thirdly, of gross impertinence to the rural
police. Mr. Clerk, will you tell us, please, what is the very stiffest
penalty we can impose for each of these offences? Without, of course,
giving the prisoner the benefit of any doubt, because there isn’t any.’

The Clerk scratched his nose with his pen. ’Some people would consider,’
he observed, ’that stealing the motor-car was the worst offence; and so
it is. But cheeking the police undoubtedly carries the severest penalty;
and so it ought. Supposing you were to say twelve months for the
theft, which is mild; and three years for the furious driving, which is
lenient; and fifteen years for the cheek, which was pretty bad sort of
cheek, judging by what we’ve heard from the witness-box, even if you
only believe one-tenth part of what you heard, and I never believe more
myself--those figures, if added together correctly, tot up to nineteen
years----’

’First-rate!’ said the Chairman.

’--So you had better make it a round twenty years and be on the safe
side,’ concluded the Clerk.

’An excellent suggestion!’ said the Chairman approvingly. ’Prisoner!

Pull yourself together and try and stand up straight. It’s going to be
twenty years for you this time. And mind, if you appear before us
again, upon any charge whatever, we shall have to deal with you very
seriously!’

Then the brutal minions of the law fell upon the hapless Toad; loaded
him with chains, and dragged him from the Court House, shrieking,
praying, protesting; across the marketplace, where the playful populace,
always as severe upon detected crime as they are sympathetic and helpful
when one is merely ’wanted,’ assailed him with jeers, carrots, and
popular catch-words; past hooting school children, their innocent faces
lit up with the pleasure they ever derive from the sight of a gentleman
in difficulties; across the hollow-sounding drawbridge, below the spiky
portcullis, under the frowning archway of the grim old castle, whose
ancient towers soared high overhead; past guardrooms full of grinning
soldiery off duty, past sentries who coughed in a horrid, sarcastic
way, because that is as much as a sentry on his post dare do to show
his contempt and abhorrence of crime; up time-worn winding stairs, past
men-at-arms in casquet and corselet of steel, darting threatening looks
through their vizards; across courtyards, where mastiffs strained at
their leash and pawed the air to get at him; past ancient warders, their
halberds leant against the wall, dozing over a pasty and a flagon of
brown ale; on and on, past the rack-chamber and the thumbscrew-room,
past the turning that led to the private scaffold, till they reached
the door of the grimmest dungeon that lay in the heart of the innermost
keep. There at last they paused, where an ancient gaoler sat fingering a
bunch of mighty keys.

’Oddsbodikins!’ said the sergeant of police, taking off his helmet and
wiping his forehead. ’Rouse thee, old loon, and take over from us this
vile Toad, a criminal of deepest guilt and matchless artfulness and
resource. Watch and ward him with all thy skill; and mark thee well,
greybeard, should aught untoward befall, thy old head shall answer for
his--and a murrain on both of them!’

The gaoler nodded grimly, laying his withered hand on the shoulder of
the miserable Toad. The rusty key creaked in the lock, the great door
clanged behind them; and Toad was a helpless prisoner in the remotest
dungeon of the best-guarded keep of the stoutest castle in all the
length and breadth of Merry England.

VII. THE PIPER AT THE GATES OF DAWN

The Willow-Wren was twittering his thin little song, hidden himself in
the dark selvedge of the river bank. Though it was past ten o’clock
at night, the sky still clung to and retained some lingering skirts
of light from the departed day; and the sullen heats of the torrid
afternoon broke up and rolled away at the dispersing touch of the cool
fingers of the short midsummer night. Mole lay stretched on the bank,
still panting from the stress of the fierce day that had been cloudless
from dawn to late sunset, and waited for his friend to return. He had
been on the river with some companions, leaving the Water Rat free to
keep a engagement of long standing with Otter; and he had come back to
find the house dark and deserted, and no sign of Rat, who was doubtless
keeping it up late with his old comrade. It was still too hot to think
of staying indoors, so he lay on some cool dock-leaves, and thought over
the past day and its doings, and how very good they all had been.

The Rat’s light footfall was presently heard approaching over the
parched grass. ’O, the blessed coolness!’ he said, and sat down, gazing
thoughtfully into the river, silent and pre-occupied.

’You stayed to supper, of course?’ said the Mole presently.

’Simply had to,’ said the Rat. ’They wouldn’t hear of my going before.
You know how kind they always are. And they made things as jolly for me
as ever they could, right up to the moment I left. But I felt a brute
all the time, as it was clear to me they were very unhappy, though they
tried to hide it. Mole, I’m afraid they’re in trouble. Little Portly is
missing again; and you know what a lot his father thinks of him, though
he never says much about it.’

’What, that child?’ said the Mole lightly. ’Well, suppose he is; why
worry about it? He’s always straying off and getting lost, and turning
up again; he’s so adventurous. But no harm ever happens to him.
Everybody hereabouts knows him and likes him, just as they do old Otter,
and you may be sure some animal or other will come across him and bring
him back again all right. Why, we’ve found him ourselves, miles from
home, and quite self-possessed and cheerful!’

’Yes; but this time it’s more serious,’ said the Rat gravely. ’He’s been
missing for some days now, and the Otters have hunted everywhere, high
and low, without finding the slightest trace. And they’ve asked every
animal, too, for miles around, and no one knows anything about him.
Otter’s evidently more anxious than he’ll admit. I got out of him that
young Portly hasn’t learnt to swim very well yet, and I can see
he’s thinking of the weir. There’s a lot of water coming down still,
considering the time of the year, and the place always had a fascination
for the child. And then there are--well, traps and things--YOU know.
Otter’s not the fellow to be nervous about any son of his before it’s
time. And now he IS nervous. When I left, he came out with me--said he
wanted some air, and talked about stretching his legs. But I could see
it wasn’t that, so I drew him out and pumped him, and got it all from
him at last. He was going to spend the night watching by the ford. You
know the place where the old ford used to be, in by-gone days before
they built the bridge?’

’I know it well,’ said the Mole. ’But why should Otter choose to watch
there?’

’Well, it seems that it was there he gave Portly his first

swimming-lesson,’ continued the Rat. ’From that shallow, gravelly spit
near the bank. And it was there he used to teach him fishing, and there
young Portly caught his first fish, of which he was so very proud. The
child loved the spot, and Otter thinks that if he came wandering
back from wherever he is--if he IS anywhere by this time, poor little
chap--he might make for the ford he was so fond of; or if he came across
it he’d remember it well, and stop there and play, perhaps. So Otter
goes there every night and watches--on the chance, you know, just on the
chance!’

They were silent for a time, both thinking of the same thing--the
lonely, heart-sore animal, crouched by the ford, watching and waiting,
the long night through--on the chance.

’Well, well,’ said the Rat presently, ’I suppose we ought to be thinking

about turning in.’ But he never offered to move.

’Rat,’ said the Mole, ’I simply can’t go and turn in, and go to sleep,
and DO nothing, even though there doesn’t seem to be anything to be
done. We’ll get the boat out, and paddle up stream. The moon will be up
in an hour or so, and then we will search as well as we can--anyhow, it
will be better than going to bed and doing NOTHING.’

’Just what I was thinking myself,’ said the Rat. ’It’s not the sort of
night for bed anyhow; and daybreak is not so very far off, and then we
may pick up some news of him from early risers as we go along.’

They got the boat out, and the Rat took the sculls, paddling with
caution. Out in midstream, there was a clear, narrow track that faintly
reflected the sky; but wherever shadows fell on the water from bank,
bush, or tree, they were as solid to all appearance as the banks
themselves, and the Mole had to steer with judgment accordingly. Dark
and deserted as it was, the night was full of small noises, song and
chatter and rustling, telling of the busy little population who were
up and about, plying their trades and vocations through the night
till sunshine should fall on them at last and send them off to their
well-earned repose. The water’s own noises, too, were more apparent than
by day, its gurglings and ’cloops’ more unexpected and near at hand;
and constantly they started at what seemed a sudden clear call from an
actual articulate voice.

The line of the horizon was clear and hard against the sky, and in
one particular quarter it showed black against a silvery climbing
phosphorescence that grew and grew. At last, over the rim of the waiting
earth the moon lifted with slow majesty till it swung clear of the
horizon and rode off, free of moorings; and once more they began to see
surfaces--meadows wide-spread, and quiet gardens, and the river itself
from bank to bank, all softly disclosed, all washed clean of mystery
and terror, all radiant again as by day, but with a difference that was
tremendous. Their old haunts greeted them again in other raiment, as if
they had slipped away and put on this pure new apparel and come quietly
back, smiling as they shyly waited to see if they would be recognised
again under it.

Fastening their boat to a willow, the friends landed in this silent,

silver kingdom, and patiently explored the hedges, the hollow trees,
the runnels and their little culverts, the ditches and dry water-ways.
Embarking again and crossing over, they worked their way up the stream
in this manner, while the moon, serene and detached in a cloudless sky,
did what she could, though so far off, to help them in their quest; till
her hour came and she sank earthwards reluctantly, and left them, and
mystery once more held field and river.

Then a change began slowly to declare itself. The horizon became

clearer, field and tree came more into sight, and somehow with a
different look; the mystery began to drop away from them. A bird piped
suddenly, and was still; and a light breeze sprang up and set the reeds
and bulrushes rustling. Rat, who was in the stern of the boat, while
Mole sculled, sat up suddenly and listened with a passionate intentness.
Mole, who with gentle strokes was just keeping the boat moving while he
scanned the banks with care, looked at him with curiosity.

’It’s gone!’ sighed the Rat, sinking back in his seat again. ’So
beautiful and strange and new. Since it was to end so soon, I almost
wish I had never heard it. For it has roused a longing in me that is
pain, and nothing seems worth while but just to hear that sound once
more and go on listening to it for ever. No! There it is again!’ he
cried, alert once more. Entranced, he was silent for a long space,
spellbound.

’Now it passes on and I begin to lose it,’ he said presently. ’O Mole!

the beauty of it! The merry bubble and joy, the thin, clear, happy call
of the distant piping! Such music I never dreamed of, and the call in
it is stronger even than the music is sweet! Row on, Mole, row! For the
music and the call must be for us.’
The Mole, greatly wondering, obeyed. ’I hear nothing myself,’ he said,
’but the wind playing in the reeds and rushes and osiers.’

The Rat never answered, if indeed he heard. Rapt, transported,

trembling, he was possessed in all his senses by this new divine thing
that caught up his helpless soul and swung and dandled it, a powerless
but happy infant in a strong sustaining grasp.

In silence Mole rowed steadily, and soon they came to a point where the
river divided, a long backwater branching off to one side. With a
slight movement of his head Rat, who had long dropped the rudder-lines,
directed the rower to take the backwater. The creeping tide of light
gained and gained, and now they could see the colour of the flowers that
gemmed the water’s edge.

’Clearer and nearer still,’ cried the Rat joyously. ’Now you must surely
hear it! Ah--at last--I see you do!’

Breathless and transfixed the Mole stopped rowing as the liquid run of
that glad piping broke on him like a wave, caught him up, and possessed
him utterly. He saw the tears on his comrade’s cheeks, and bowed his
head and understood. For a space they hung there, brushed by the purple
loose-strife that fringed the bank; then the clear imperious summons
that marched hand-in-hand with the intoxicating melody imposed its will
on Mole, and mechanically he bent to his oars again. And the light grew
steadily stronger, but no birds sang as they were wont to do at the
approach of dawn; and but for the heavenly music all was marvellously
still.

On either side of them, as they glided onwards, the rich meadow-grass

seemed that morning of a freshness and a greenness unsurpassable. Never
had they noticed the roses so vivid, the willow-herb so riotous,
the meadow-sweet so odorous and pervading. Then the murmur of the
approaching weir began to hold the air, and they felt a consciousness
that they were nearing the end, whatever it might be, that surely
awaited their expedition.

A wide half-circle of foam and glinting lights and shining shoulders

of green water, the great weir closed the backwater from bank to
bank, troubled all the quiet surface with twirling eddies and floating
foam-streaks, and deadened all other sounds with its solemn and soothing
rumble. In midmost of the stream, embraced in the weir’s shimmering
arm-spread, a small island lay anchored, fringed close with willow and
silver birch and alder. Reserved, shy, but full of significance, it hid
whatever it might hold behind a veil, keeping it till the hour should
come, and, with the hour, those who were called and chosen.

Slowly, but with no doubt or hesitation whatever, and in something of a

solemn expectancy, the two animals passed through the broken tumultuous
water and moored their boat at the flowery margin of the island. In
silence they landed, and pushed through the blossom and scented herbage
and undergrowth that led up to the level ground, till they stood on
a little lawn of a marvellous green, set round with Nature’s own
orchard-trees--crab-apple, wild cherry, and sloe.

’This is the place of my song-dream, the place the music played to me,’
whispered the Rat, as if in a trance. ’Here, in this holy place, here if
anywhere, surely we shall find Him!’
Then suddenly the Mole felt a great Awe fall upon him, an awe that
turned his muscles to water, bowed his head, and rooted his feet to the
ground. It was no panic terror--indeed he felt wonderfully at peace and
happy--but it was an awe that smote and held him and, without seeing, he
knew it could only mean that some august Presence was very, very near.
With difficulty he turned to look for his friend and saw him at his
side cowed, stricken, and trembling violently. And still there was utter
silence in the populous bird-haunted branches around them; and still the
light grew and grew.

Perhaps he would never have dared to raise his eyes, but that, though
the piping was now hushed, the call and the summons seemed still
dominant and imperious. He might not refuse, were Death himself waiting
to strike him instantly, once he had looked with mortal eye on things
rightly kept hidden. Trembling he obeyed, and raised his humble head;
and then, in that utter clearness of the imminent dawn, while Nature,
flushed with fullness of incredible colour, seemed to hold her breath
for the event, he looked in the very eyes of the Friend and Helper;
saw the backward sweep of the curved horns, gleaming in the growing
daylight; saw the stern, hooked nose between the kindly eyes that were
looking down on them humourously, while the bearded mouth broke into a
half-smile at the corners; saw the rippling muscles on the arm that lay
across the broad chest, the long supple hand still holding the pan-pipes
only just fallen away from the parted lips; saw the splendid curves of
the shaggy limbs disposed in majestic ease on the sward; saw, last of
all, nestling between his very hooves, sleeping soundly in entire peace
and contentment, the little, round, podgy, childish form of the baby
otter. All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid
on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he
lived, he wondered.

’Rat!’ he found breath to whisper, shaking. ’Are you afraid?’

’Afraid?’ murmured the Rat, his eyes shining with unutterable love.
’Afraid! Of HIM? O, never, never! And yet--and yet--O, Mole, I am
afraid!’

Then the two animals, crouching to the earth, bowed their heads and did
worship.

Sudden and magnificent, the sun’s broad golden disc showed itself over
the horizon facing them; and the first rays, shooting across the level
water-meadows, took the animals full in the eyes and dazzled them. When
they were able to look once more, the Vision had vanished, and the air
was full of the carol of birds that hailed the dawn.

As they stared blankly in dumb misery deepening as they slowly realised

all they had seen and all they had lost, a capricious little breeze,
dancing up from the surface of the water, tossed the aspens, shook the
dewy roses and blew lightly and caressingly in their faces; and with its
soft touch came instant oblivion. For this is the last best gift
that the kindly demi-god is careful to bestow on those to whom he has
revealed himself in their helping: the gift of forgetfulness. Lest
the awful remembrance should remain and grow, and overshadow mirth and
pleasure, and the great haunting memory should spoil all the after-lives
of little animals helped out of difficulties, in order that they should
be happy and lighthearted as before.

Mole rubbed his eyes and stared at Rat, who was looking about him in
a puzzled sort of way. ’I beg your pardon; what did you say, Rat?’ he
asked.

’I think I was only remarking,’ said Rat slowly, ’that this was the
right sort of place, and that here, if anywhere, we should find him. And
look! Why, there he is, the little fellow!’ And with a cry of delight he
ran towards the slumbering Portly.

But Mole stood still a moment, held in thought. As one wakened suddenly
from a beautiful dream, who struggles to recall it, and can re-capture
nothing but a dim sense of the beauty of it, the beauty! Till that, too,
fades away in its turn, and the dreamer bitterly accepts the hard, cold
waking and all its penalties; so Mole, after struggling with his memory
for a brief space, shook his head sadly and followed the Rat.

Portly woke up with a joyous squeak, and wriggled with pleasure at the
sight of his father’s friends, who had played with him so often in past
days. In a moment, however, his face grew blank, and he fell to hunting
round in a circle with pleading whine. As a child that has fallen
happily asleep in its nurse’s arms, and wakes to find itself alone and
laid in a strange place, and searches corners and cupboards, and runs
from room to room, despair growing silently in its heart, even so Portly
searched the island and searched, dogged and unwearying, till at last
the black moment came for giving it up, and sitting down and crying
bitterly.

The Mole ran quickly to comfort the little animal; but Rat, lingering,
looked long and doubtfully at certain hoof-marks deep in the sward.

’Some--great--animal--has been here,’ he murmured slowly and

thoughtfully; and stood musing, musing; his mind strangely stirred.

’Come along, Rat!’ called the Mole. ’Think of poor Otter, waiting up
there by the ford!’

Portly had soon been comforted by the promise of a treat--a jaunt on the
river in Mr. Rat’s real boat; and the two animals conducted him to the
water’s side, placed him securely between them in the bottom of the
boat, and paddled off down the backwater. The sun was fully up by now,
and hot on them, birds sang lustily and without restraint, and flowers
smiled and nodded from either bank, but somehow--so thought the
animals--with less of richness and blaze of colour than they seemed to
remember seeing quite recently somewhere--they wondered where.

The main river reached again, they turned the boat’s head upstream,
towards the point where they knew their friend was keeping his lonely
vigil. As they drew near the familiar ford, the Mole took the boat in
to the bank, and they lifted Portly out and set him on his legs on the
tow-path, gave him his marching orders and a friendly farewell pat on
the back, and shoved out into mid-stream. They watched the little animal
as he waddled along the path contentedly and with importance; watched
him till they saw his muzzle suddenly lift and his waddle break into a
clumsy amble as he quickened his pace with shrill whines and wriggles of
recognition. Looking up the river, they could see Otter start up, tense
and rigid, from out of the shallows where he crouched in dumb patience,
and could hear his amazed and joyous bark as he bounded up through the
osiers on to the path. Then the Mole, with a strong pull on one oar,
swung the boat round and let the full stream bear them down again
whither it would, their quest now happily ended.

’I feel strangely tired, Rat,’ said the Mole, leaning wearily over his
oars as the boat drifted. ’It’s being up all night, you’ll say, perhaps;
but that’s nothing. We do as much half the nights of the week, at this
time of the year. No; I feel as if I had been through something very
exciting and rather terrible, and it was just over; and yet nothing
particular has happened.’

’Or something very surprising and splendid and beautiful,’ murmured the
Rat, leaning back and closing his eyes. ’I feel just as you do, Mole;
simply dead tired, though not body tired. It’s lucky we’ve got the
stream with us, to take us home. Isn’t it jolly to feel the sun again,
soaking into one’s bones! And hark to the wind playing in the reeds!’

’It’s like music--far away music,’ said the Mole nodding drowsily.

’So I was thinking,’ murmured the Rat, dreamful and languid.

’Dance-music--the lilting sort that runs on without a stop--but with
words in it, too--it passes into words and out of them again--I catch
them at intervals--then it is dance-music once more, and then nothing
but the reeds’ soft thin whispering.’

’You hear better than I,’ said the Mole sadly. ’I cannot catch the
words.’

’Let me try and give you them,’ said the Rat softly, his eyes still
closed. ’Now it is turning into words again--faint but clear--Lest the
awe should dwell--And turn your frolic to fret--You shall look on my
power at the helping hour--But then you shall forget! Now the reeds take
it up--forget, forget, they sigh, and it dies away in a rustle and a
whisper. Then the voice returns--

’Lest limbs be reddened and rent--I spring the trap that is set--As I
loose the snare you may glimpse me there--For surely you shall forget!
Row nearer, Mole, nearer to the reeds! It is hard to catch, and grows
each minute fainter.

’Helper and healer, I cheer--Small waifs in the woodland wet--Strays I

find in it, wounds I bind in it--Bidding them all forget! Nearer, Mole,
nearer! No, it is no good; the song has died away into reed-talk.’

’But what do the words mean?’ asked the wondering Mole.

’That I do not know,’ said the Rat simply. ’I passed them on to you
as they reached me. Ah! now they return again, and this time full and
clear! This time, at last, it is the real, the unmistakable thing,
simple--passionate--perfect----’

’Well, let’s have it, then,’ said the Mole, after he had waited
patiently for a few minutes, half-dozing in the hot sun.

But no answer came. He looked, and understood the silence. With a smile
of much happiness on his face, and something of a listening look still
lingering there, the weary Rat was fast asleep.

VIII. TOAD’S ADVENTURES

When Toad found himself immured in a dank and noisome dungeon, and knew
that all the grim darkness of a medieval fortress lay between him and
the outer world of sunshine and well-metalled high roads where he had
lately been so happy, disporting himself as if he had bought up every
road in England, he flung himself at full length on the floor, and shed
bitter tears, and abandoned himself to dark despair. ’This is the end
of everything’ (he said), ’at least it is the end of the career of Toad,
which is the same thing; the popular and handsome Toad, the rich and
hospitable Toad, the Toad so free and careless and debonair! How can I
hope to be ever set at large again’ (he said), ’who have been imprisoned
so justly for stealing so handsome a motor-car in such an audacious
manner, and for such lurid and imaginative cheek, bestowed upon such a
number of fat, red-faced policemen!’ (Here his sobs choked him.) ’Stupid
animal that I was’ (he said), ’now I must languish in this dungeon, till
people who were proud to say they knew me, have forgotten the very name
of Toad! O wise old Badger!’ (he said), ’O clever, intelligent Rat and
sensible Mole! What sound judgments, what a knowledge of men and matters
you possess! O unhappy and forsaken Toad!’ With lamentations such as
these he passed his days and nights for several weeks, refusing his
meals or intermediate light refreshments, though the grim and ancient
gaoler, knowing that Toad’s pockets were well lined, frequently pointed
out that many comforts, and indeed luxuries, could by arrangement be
sent in--at a price--from outside.

Now the gaoler had a daughter, a pleasant wench and good-hearted,

who assisted her father in the lighter duties of his post. She was
particularly fond of animals, and, besides her canary, whose cage hung
on a nail in the massive wall of the keep by day, to the great annoyance
of prisoners who relished an after-dinner nap, and was shrouded in an
antimacassar on the parlour table at night, she kept several piebald
mice and a restless revolving squirrel. This kind-hearted girl, pitying
the misery of Toad, said to her father one day, ’Father! I can’t bear to
see that poor beast so unhappy, and getting so thin! You let me have the
managing of him. You know how fond of animals I am. I’ll make him eat
from my hand, and sit up, and do all sorts of things.’

Her father replied that she could do what she liked with him. He was
tired of Toad, and his sulks and his airs and his meanness. So that day
she went on her errand of mercy, and knocked at the door of Toad’s cell.

’Now, cheer up, Toad,’ she said, coaxingly, on entering, ’and sit up
and dry your eyes and be a sensible animal. And do try and eat a bit of
dinner. See, I’ve brought you some of mine, hot from the oven!’

It was bubble-and-squeak, between two plates, and its fragrance filled

the narrow cell. The penetrating smell of cabbage reached the nose of
Toad as he lay prostrate in his misery on the floor, and gave him the
idea for a moment that perhaps life was not such a blank and desperate
thing as he had imagined. But still he wailed, and kicked with his legs,
and refused to be comforted. So the wise girl retired for the time, but,
of course, a good deal of the smell of hot cabbage remained behind,
as it will do, and Toad, between his sobs, sniffed and reflected, and
gradually began to think new and inspiring thoughts: of chivalry,
and poetry, and deeds still to be done; of broad meadows, and cattle
browsing in them, raked by sun and wind; of kitchen-gardens, and
straight herb-borders, and warm snap-dragon beset by bees; and of the
comforting clink of dishes set down on the table at Toad Hall, and the
scrape of chair-legs on the floor as every one pulled himself close up
to his work. The air of the narrow cell took a rosy tinge; he began to
think of his friends, and how they would surely be able to do something;
of lawyers, and how they would have enjoyed his case, and what an ass
he had been not to get in a few; and lastly, he thought of his own great
cleverness and resource, and all that he was capable of if he only gave
his great mind to it; and the cure was almost complete.

When the girl returned, some hours later, she carried a tray, with a
cup of fragrant tea steaming on it; and a plate piled up with very hot
buttered toast, cut thick, very brown on both sides, with the butter
running through the holes in it in great golden drops, like honey from
the honeycomb. The smell of that buttered toast simply talked to Toad,
and with no uncertain voice; talked of warm kitchens, of breakfasts on
bright frosty mornings, of cosy parlour firesides on winter evenings,
when one’s ramble was over and slippered feet were propped on the
fender; of the purring of contented cats, and the twitter of sleepy
canaries. Toad sat up on end once more, dried his eyes, sipped his tea
and munched his toast, and soon began talking freely about himself, and
the house he lived in, and his doings there, and how important he was,
and what a lot his friends thought of him.

The gaoler’s daughter saw that the topic was doing him as much good as
the tea, as indeed it was, and encouraged him to go on.

’Tell me about Toad Hall,’ said she. ’It sounds beautiful.’

’Toad Hall,’ said the Toad proudly, ’is an eligible self-contained

gentleman’s residence very unique; dating in part from the fourteenth
century, but replete with every modern convenience. Up-to-date
sanitation. Five minutes from church, post-office, and golf-links,
Suitable for----’

’Bless the animal,’ said the girl, laughing, ’I don’t want to TAKE it.
Tell me something REAL about it. But first wait till I fetch you some
more tea and toast.’

She tripped away, and presently returned with a fresh trayful; and Toad,
pitching into the toast with avidity, his spirits quite restored to
their usual level, told her about the boathouse, and the fish-pond, and
the old walled kitchen-garden; and about the pig-styes, and the stables,
and the pigeon-house, and the hen-house; and about the dairy, and the
wash-house, and the china-cupboards, and the linen-presses (she liked
that bit especially); and about the banqueting-hall, and the fun they
had there when the other animals were gathered round the table and Toad
was at his best, singing songs, telling stories, carrying on generally.
Then she wanted to know about his animal-friends, and was very
interested in all he had to tell her about them and how they lived, and
what they did to pass their time. Of course, she did not say she was
fond of animals as PETS, because she had the sense to see that Toad
would be extremely offended. When she said good night, having filled his
water-jug and shaken up his straw for him, Toad was very much the same
sanguine, self-satisfied animal that he had been of old. He sang a
little song or two, of the sort he used to sing at his dinner-parties,
curled himself up in the straw, and had an excellent night’s rest and
the pleasantest of dreams.

They had many interesting talks together, after that, as the dreary days
went on; and the gaoler’s daughter grew very sorry for Toad, and thought
it a great shame that a poor little animal should be locked up in prison
for what seemed to her a very trivial offence. Toad, of course, in
his vanity, thought that her interest in him proceeded from a growing
tenderness; and he could not help half-regretting that the social gulf
between them was so very wide, for she was a comely lass, and evidently
admired him very much.
One morning the girl was very thoughtful, and answered at random, and
did not seem to Toad to be paying proper attention to his witty sayings
and sparkling comments.

’Toad,’ she said presently, ’just listen, please. I have an aunt who is
a washerwoman.’

’There, there,’ said Toad, graciously and affably, ’never mind; think no
more about it. _I_ have several aunts who OUGHT to be washerwomen.’

’Do be quiet a minute, Toad,’ said the girl. ’You talk too much, that’s
your chief fault, and I’m trying to think, and you hurt my head. As I
said, I have an aunt who is a washerwoman; she does the washing for all
the prisoners in this castle--we try to keep any paying business of that
sort in the family, you understand. She takes out the washing on Monday
morning, and brings it in on Friday evening. This is a Thursday. Now,
this is what occurs to me: you’re very rich--at least you’re always
telling me so--and she’s very poor. A few pounds wouldn’t make any
difference to you, and it would mean a lot to her. Now, I think if she
were properly approached--squared, I believe is the word you animals
use--you could come to some arrangement by which she would let you have
her dress and bonnet and so on, and you could escape from the
castle as the official washerwoman. You’re very alike in many
respects--particularly about the figure.’

’We’re NOT,’ said the Toad in a huff. ’I have a very elegant figure--for
what I am.’

’So has my aunt,’ replied the girl, ’for what SHE is. But have it your
own way. You horrid, proud, ungrateful animal, when I’m sorry for you,
and trying to help you!’

’Yes, yes, that’s all right; thank you very much indeed,’ said the Toad
hurriedly. ’But look here! you wouldn’t surely have Mr. Toad of Toad
Hall, going about the country disguised as a washerwoman!’

’Then you can stop here as a Toad,’ replied the girl with much spirit.
’I suppose you want to go off in a coach-and-four!’

Honest Toad was always ready to admit himself in the wrong. ’You are a
good, kind, clever girl,’ he said, ’and I am indeed a proud and a stupid
toad. Introduce me to your worthy aunt, if you will be so kind, and
I have no doubt that the excellent lady and I will be able to arrange
terms satisfactory to both parties.’

Next evening the girl ushered her aunt into Toad’s cell, bearing his
week’s washing pinned up in a towel. The old lady had been prepared
beforehand for the interview, and the sight of certain gold sovereigns
that Toad had thoughtfully placed on the table in full view practically
completed the matter and left little further to discuss. In return for
his cash, Toad received a cotton print gown, an apron, a shawl, and a
rusty black bonnet; the only stipulation the old lady made being that
she should be gagged and bound and dumped down in a corner. By this not
very convincing artifice, she explained, aided by picturesque fiction
which she could supply herself, she hoped to retain her situation, in
spite of the suspicious appearance of things.

Toad was delighted with the suggestion. It would enable him to leave the
prison in some style, and with his reputation for being a desperate
and dangerous fellow untarnished; and he readily helped the gaoler’s
daughter to make her aunt appear as much as possible the victim of
circumstances over which she had no control.

’Now it’s your turn, Toad,’ said the girl. ’Take off that coat and
waistcoat of yours; you’re fat enough as it is.’

Shaking with laughter, she proceeded to ’hook-and-eye’ him into the

cotton print gown, arranged the shawl with a professional fold, and tied
the strings of the rusty bonnet under his chin.

’You’re the very image of her,’ she giggled, ’only I’m sure you never
looked half so respectable in all your life before. Now, good-bye, Toad,
and good luck. Go straight down the way you came up; and if any one says
anything to you, as they probably will, being but men, you can chaff
back a bit, of course, but remember you’re a widow woman, quite alone in
the world, with a character to lose.’

With a quaking heart, but as firm a footstep as he could command,

Toad set forth cautiously on what seemed to be a most hare-brained and
hazardous undertaking; but he was soon agreeably surprised to find how
easy everything was made for him, and a little humbled at the thought
that both his popularity, and the sex that seemed to inspire it, were
really another’s. The washerwoman’s squat figure in its familiar cotton
print seemed a passport for every barred door and grim gateway; even
when he hesitated, uncertain as to the right turning to take, he found
himself helped out of his difficulty by the warder at the next gate,
anxious to be off to his tea, summoning him to come along sharp and not
keep him waiting there all night. The chaff and the humourous sallies
to which he was subjected, and to which, of course, he had to provide
prompt and effective reply, formed, indeed, his chief danger; for Toad
was an animal with a strong sense of his own dignity, and the chaff
was mostly (he thought) poor and clumsy, and the humour of the sallies
entirely lacking. However, he kept his temper, though with great
difficulty, suited his retorts to his company and his supposed
character, and did his best not to overstep the limits of good taste.

It seemed hours before he crossed the last courtyard, rejected the

pressing invitations from the last guardroom, and dodged the outspread
arms of the last warder, pleading with simulated passion for just one
farewell embrace. But at last he heard the wicket-gate in the great
outer door click behind him, felt the fresh air of the outer world upon
his anxious brow, and knew that he was free!

Dizzy with the easy success of his daring exploit, he walked quickly
towards the lights of the town, not knowing in the least what he should
do next, only quite certain of one thing, that he must remove himself as
quickly as possible from the neighbourhood where the lady he was forced
to represent was so well-known and so popular a character.

As he walked along, considering, his attention was caught by some red

and green lights a little way off, to one side of the town, and the
sound of the puffing and snorting of engines and the banging of shunted
trucks fell on his ear. ’Aha!’ he thought, ’this is a piece of luck!
A railway station is the thing I want most in the whole world at this
moment; and what’s more, I needn’t go through the town to get it, and
shan’t have to support this humiliating character by repartees which,
though thoroughly effective, do not assist one’s sense of self-respect.’

He made his way to the station accordingly, consulted a time-table, and

found that a train, bound more or less in the direction of his home, was
due to start in half-an-hour. ’More luck!’ said Toad, his spirits rising
rapidly, and went off to the booking-office to buy his ticket.

He gave the name of the station that he knew to be nearest to the

village of which Toad Hall was the principal feature, and mechanically
put his fingers, in search of the necessary money, where his waistcoat
pocket should have been. But here the cotton gown, which had nobly
stood by him so far, and which he had basely forgotten, intervened, and
frustrated his efforts. In a sort of nightmare he struggled with the
strange uncanny thing that seemed to hold his hands, turn all muscular
strivings to water, and laugh at him all the time; while other
travellers, forming up in a line behind, waited with impatience,
making suggestions of more or less value and comments of more or less
stringency and point. At last--somehow--he never rightly understood
how--he burst the barriers, attained the goal, arrived at where all
waistcoat pockets are eternally situated, and found--not only no money,
but no pocket to hold it, and no waistcoat to hold the pocket!

To his horror he recollected that he had left both coat and waistcoat
behind him in his cell, and with them his pocket-book, money, keys,
watch, matches, pencil-case--all that makes life worth living, all that
distinguishes the many-pocketed animal, the lord of creation, from the
inferior one-pocketed or no-pocketed productions that hop or trip about
permissively, unequipped for the real contest.

In his misery he made one desperate effort to carry the thing off, and,
with a return to his fine old manner--a blend of the Squire and the
College Don--he said, ’Look here! I find I’ve left my purse behind. Just
give me that ticket, will you, and I’ll send the money on to-morrow? I’m
well-known in these parts.’

The clerk stared at him and the rusty black bonnet a moment, and then
laughed. ’I should think you were pretty well known in these parts,’
he said, ’if you’ve tried this game on often. Here, stand away from the
window, please, madam; you’re obstructing the other passengers!’

An old gentleman who had been prodding him in the back for some moments
here thrust him away, and, what was worse, addressed him as his good
woman, which angered Toad more than anything that had occurred that
evening.

Baffled and full of despair, he wandered blindly down the platform where
the train was standing, and tears trickled down each side of his nose.
It was hard, he thought, to be within sight of safety and almost of
home, and to be baulked by the want of a few wretched shillings and by
the pettifogging mistrustfulness of paid officials. Very soon his escape
would be discovered, the hunt would be up, he would be caught, reviled,
loaded with chains, dragged back again to prison and bread-and-water and
straw; his guards and penalties would be doubled; and O, what sarcastic
remarks the girl would make! What was to be done? He was not swift of
foot; his figure was unfortunately recognisable. Could he not squeeze
under the seat of a carriage? He had seen this method adopted by
schoolboys, when the journey-money provided by thoughtful parents had
been diverted to other and better ends. As he pondered, he found
himself opposite the engine, which was being oiled, wiped, and generally
caressed by its affectionate driver, a burly man with an oil-can in one
hand and a lump of cotton-waste in the other.

’Hullo, mother!’ said the engine-driver, ’what’s the trouble? You don’t
look particularly cheerful.’

’O, sir!’ said Toad, crying afresh, ’I am a poor unhappy washerwoman,

and I’ve lost all my money, and can’t pay for a ticket, and I must get
home to-night somehow, and whatever I am to do I don’t know. O dear, O
dear!’

’That’s a bad business, indeed,’ said the engine-driver reflectively.

’Lost your money--and can’t get home--and got some kids, too, waiting
for you, I dare say?’

’Any amount of ’em,’ sobbed Toad. ’And they’ll be hungry--and

playing with matches--and upsetting lamps, the little innocents!--and
quarrelling, and going on generally. O dear, O dear!’

’Well, I’ll tell you what I’ll do,’ said the good engine-driver. ’You’re
a washerwoman to your trade, says you. Very well, that’s that. And
I’m an engine-driver, as you well may see, and there’s no denying it’s
terribly dirty work. Uses up a power of shirts, it does, till my missus
is fair tired of washing of ’em. If you’ll wash a few shirts for me when
you get home, and send ’em along, I’ll give you a ride on my engine.
It’s against the Company’s regulations, but we’re not so very particular
in these out-of-the-way parts.’

The Toad’s misery turned into rapture as he eagerly scrambled up into

the cab of the engine. Of course, he had never washed a shirt in his
life, and couldn’t if he tried and, anyhow, he wasn’t going to begin;
but he thought: ’When I get safely home to Toad Hall, and have money
again, and pockets to put it in, I will send the engine-driver enough to
pay for quite a quantity of washing, and that will be the same thing, or
better.’

The guard waved his welcome flag, the engine-driver whistled in

cheerful response, and the train moved out of the station. As the speed
increased, and the Toad could see on either side of him real fields, and
trees, and hedges, and cows, and horses, all flying past him, and as
he thought how every minute was bringing him nearer to Toad Hall, and
sympathetic friends, and money to chink in his pocket, and a soft bed
to sleep in, and good things to eat, and praise and admiration at the
recital of his adventures and his surpassing cleverness, he began to
skip up and down and shout and sing snatches of song, to the great
astonishment of the engine-driver, who had come across washerwomen
before, at long intervals, but never one at all like this.

They had covered many and many a mile, and Toad was already considering
what he would have for supper as soon as he got home, when he noticed
that the engine-driver, with a puzzled expression on his face, was
leaning over the side of the engine and listening hard. Then he saw him
climb on to the coals and gaze out over the top of the train; then he
returned and said to Toad: ’It’s very strange; we’re the last train
running in this direction to-night, yet I could be sworn that I heard
another following us!’

Toad ceased his frivolous antics at once. He became grave and depressed,
and a dull pain in the lower part of his spine, communicating itself to
his legs, made him want to sit down and try desperately not to think of
all the possibilities.

By this time the moon was shining brightly, and the engine-driver,
steadying himself on the coal, could command a view of the line behind
them for a long distance.

Presently he called out, ’I can see it clearly now! It is an engine, on

our rails, coming along at a great pace! It looks as if we were being
pursued!’

The miserable Toad, crouching in the coal-dust, tried hard to think of

something to do, with dismal want of success.

’They are gaining on us fast!’ cried the engine-driver. And the engine
is crowded with the queerest lot of people! Men like ancient warders,
waving halberds; policemen in their helmets, waving truncheons; and
shabbily dressed men in pot-hats, obvious and unmistakable plain-clothes
detectives even at this distance, waving revolvers and walking-sticks;
all waving, and all shouting the same thing--"Stop, stop, stop!"’

Then Toad fell on his knees among the coals and, raising his clasped
paws in supplication, cried, ’Save me, only save me, dear kind Mr.
Engine-driver, and I will confess everything! I am not the simple
washerwoman I seem to be! I have no children waiting for me, innocent
or otherwise! I am a toad--the well-known and popular Mr. Toad, a landed
proprietor; I have just escaped, by my great daring and cleverness, from
a loathsome dungeon into which my enemies had flung me; and if
those fellows on that engine recapture me, it will be chains and
bread-and-water and straw and misery once more for poor, unhappy,
innocent Toad!’

The engine-driver looked down upon him very sternly, and said, ’Now tell
the truth; what were you put in prison for?’

’It was nothing very much,’ said poor Toad, colouring deeply. ’I only
borrowed a motorcar while the owners were at lunch; they had no need
of it at the time. I didn’t mean to steal it, really; but
people--especially magistrates--take such harsh views of thoughtless and
high-spirited actions.’

The engine-driver looked very grave and said, ’I fear that you have been
indeed a wicked toad, and by rights I ought to give you up to offended
justice. But you are evidently in sore trouble and distress, so I will
not desert you. I don’t hold with motor-cars, for one thing; and I don’t
hold with being ordered about by policemen when I’m on my own engine,
for another. And the sight of an animal in tears always makes me feel
queer and softhearted. So cheer up, Toad! I’ll do my best, and we may
beat them yet!’

They piled on more coals, shovelling furiously; the furnace roared, the
sparks flew, the engine leapt and swung but still their pursuers slowly
gained. The engine-driver, with a sigh, wiped his brow with a handful
of cotton-waste, and said, ’I’m afraid it’s no good, Toad. You see, they
are running light, and they have the better engine. There’s just one
thing left for us to do, and it’s your only chance, so attend very
carefully to what I tell you. A short way ahead of us is a long tunnel,
and on the other side of that the line passes through a thick wood.
Now, I will put on all the speed I can while we are running through the
tunnel, but the other fellows will slow down a bit, naturally, for fear
of an accident. When we are through, I will shut off steam and put on
brakes as hard as I can, and the moment it’s safe to do so you must jump
and hide in the wood, before they get through the tunnel and see you.
Then I will go full speed ahead again, and they can chase me if they
like, for as long as they like, and as far as they like. Now mind and be
ready to jump when I tell you!’

They piled on more coals, and the train shot into the tunnel, and the
engine rushed and roared and rattled, till at last they shot out at the
other end into fresh air and the peaceful moonlight, and saw the wood
lying dark and helpful upon either side of the line. The driver shut off
steam and put on brakes, the Toad got down on the step, and as the train
slowed down to almost a walking pace he heard the driver call out, ’Now,
jump!’

Toad jumped, rolled down a short embankment, picked himself up unhurt,

scrambled into the wood and hid.

Peeping out, he saw his train get up speed again and disappear at a
great pace. Then out of the tunnel burst the pursuing engine, roaring
and whistling, her motley crew waving their various weapons and
shouting, ’Stop! stop! stop!’ When they were past, the Toad had a hearty
laugh--for the first time since he was thrown into prison.

But he soon stopped laughing when he came to consider that it was now
very late and dark and cold, and he was in an unknown wood, with no
money and no chance of supper, and still far from friends and home; and
the dead silence of everything, after the roar and rattle of the train,
was something of a shock. He dared not leave the shelter of the trees,
so he struck into the wood, with the idea of leaving the railway as far
as possible behind him.

After so many weeks within walls, he found the wood strange and
unfriendly and inclined, he thought, to make fun of him. Night-jars,
sounding their mechanical rattle, made him think that the wood was full
of searching warders, closing in on him. An owl, swooping noiselessly
towards him, brushed his shoulder with its wing, making him jump with
the horrid certainty that it was a hand; then flitted off, moth-like,
laughing its low ho! ho! ho; which Toad thought in very poor taste. Once
he met a fox, who stopped, looked him up and down in a sarcastic sort
of way, and said, ’Hullo, washerwoman! Half a pair of socks and a
pillow-case short this week! Mind it doesn’t occur again!’ and swaggered
off, sniggering. Toad looked about for a stone to throw at him, but
could not succeed in finding one, which vexed him more than anything.
At last, cold, hungry, and tired out, he sought the shelter of a hollow
tree, where with branches and dead leaves he made himself as comfortable
a bed as he could, and slept soundly till the morning.

IX. WAYFARERS ALL

The Water Rat was restless, and he did not exactly know why. To all
appearance the summer’s pomp was still at fullest height, and although
in the tilled acres green had given way to gold, though rowans were
reddening, and the woods were dashed here and there with a tawny
fierceness, yet light and warmth and colour were still present in
undiminished measure, clean of any chilly premonitions of the passing
year. But the constant chorus of the orchards and hedges had shrunk to
a casual evensong from a few yet unwearied performers; the robin was
beginning to assert himself once more; and there was a feeling in
the air of change and departure. The cuckoo, of course, had long been
silent; but many another feathered friend, for months a part of the
familiar landscape and its small society, was missing too and it seemed
that the ranks thinned steadily day by day. Rat, ever observant of all
winged movement, saw that it was taking daily a southing tendency; and
even as he lay in bed at night he thought he could make out, passing
in the darkness overhead, the beat and quiver of impatient pinions,
obedient to the peremptory call.

Nature’s Grand Hotel has its Season, like the others. As the guests one
by one pack, pay, and depart, and the seats at the table-d’hote shrink
pitifully at each succeeding meal; as suites of rooms are closed,
carpets taken up, and waiters sent away; those boarders who are staying
on, en pension, until the next year’s full re-opening, cannot help
being somewhat affected by all these flittings and farewells, this eager
discussion of plans, routes, and fresh quarters, this daily shrinkage in
the stream of comradeship. One gets unsettled, depressed, and inclined
to be querulous. Why this craving for change? Why not stay on quietly
here, like us, and be jolly? You don’t know this hotel out of the
season, and what fun we have among ourselves, we fellows who remain and
see the whole interesting year out. All very true, no doubt the others
always reply; we quite envy you--and some other year perhaps--but just
now we have engagements--and there’s the bus at the door--our time is
up! So they depart, with a smile and a nod, and we miss them, and feel
resentful. The Rat was a self-sufficing sort of animal, rooted to the
land, and, whoever went, he stayed; still, he could not help noticing
what was in the air, and feeling some of its influence in his bones.

It was difficult to settle down to anything seriously, with all this

flitting going on. Leaving the water-side, where rushes stood thick
and tall in a stream that was becoming sluggish and low, he wandered
country-wards, crossed a field or two of pasturage already looking dusty
and parched, and thrust into the great sea of wheat, yellow, wavy, and
murmurous, full of quiet motion and small whisperings. Here he often
loved to wander, through the forest of stiff strong stalks that carried
their own golden sky away over his head--a sky that was always dancing,
shimmering, softly talking; or swaying strongly to the passing wind and
recovering itself with a toss and a merry laugh. Here, too, he had
many small friends, a society complete in itself, leading full and busy
lives, but always with a spare moment to gossip, and exchange news with
a visitor. Today, however, though they were civil enough, the field-mice
and harvest-mice seemed preoccupied. Many were digging and tunnelling
busily; others, gathered together in small groups, examined plans
and drawings of small flats, stated to be desirable and compact, and
situated conveniently near the Stores. Some were hauling out dusty
trunks and dress-baskets, others were already elbow-deep packing their
belongings; while everywhere piles and bundles of wheat, oats, barley,
beech-mast and nuts, lay about ready for transport.

’Here’s old Ratty!’ they cried as soon as they saw him. ’Come and bear a
hand, Rat, and don’t stand about idle!’

’What sort of games are you up to?’ said the Water Rat severely. ’You
know it isn’t time to be thinking of winter quarters yet, by a long
way!’

’O yes, we know that,’ explained a field-mouse rather shamefacedly; ’but

it’s always as well to be in good time, isn’t it? We really MUST get
all the furniture and baggage and stores moved out of this before those
horrid machines begin clicking round the fields; and then, you know,
the best flats get picked up so quickly nowadays, and if you’re late you
have to put up with ANYTHING; and they want such a lot of doing up, too,
before they’re fit to move into. Of course, we’re early, we know that;
but we’re only just making a start.’

’O, bother STARTS,’ said the Rat. ’It’s a splendid day. Come for a row,
or a stroll along the hedges, or a picnic in the woods, or something.’

’Well, I THINK not TO-DAY, thank you,’ replied the field-mouse

hurriedly. ’Perhaps some OTHER day--when we’ve more TIME----’

The Rat, with a snort of contempt, swung round to go, tripped over a
hat-box, and fell, with undignified remarks.

’If people would be more careful,’ said a field-mouse rather stiffly,

’and look where they’re going, people wouldn’t hurt themselves--and
forget themselves. Mind that hold-all, Rat! You’d better sit down
somewhere. In an hour or two we may be more free to attend to you.’

’You won’t be "free" as you call it much this side of Christmas, I can
see that,’ retorted the Rat grumpily, as he picked his way out of the
field.

He returned somewhat despondently to his river again--his faithful,

steady-going old river, which never packed up, flitted, or went into
winter quarters.

In the osiers which fringed the bank he spied a swallow sitting.

Presently it was joined by another, and then by a third; and the birds,
fidgeting restlessly on their bough, talked together earnestly and low.

’What, ALREADY,’ said the Rat, strolling up to them. ’What’s the hurry?
I call it simply ridiculous.’

’O, we’re not off yet, if that’s what you mean,’ replied the first
swallow. ’We’re only making plans and arranging things. Talking it over,
you know--what route we’re taking this year, and where we’ll stop, and
so on. That’s half the fun!’

’Fun?’ said the Rat; ’now that’s just what I don’t understand. If you’ve
GOT to leave this pleasant place, and your friends who will miss you,
and your snug homes that you’ve just settled into, why, when the hour
strikes I’ve no doubt you’ll go bravely, and face all the trouble and
discomfort and change and newness, and make believe that you’re not very
unhappy. But to want to talk about it, or even think about it, till you
really need----’

’No, you don’t understand, naturally,’ said the second swallow. ’First,
we feel it stirring within us, a sweet unrest; then back come the
recollections one by one, like homing pigeons. They flutter through our
dreams at night, they fly with us in our wheelings and circlings by
day. We hunger to inquire of each other, to compare notes and assure
ourselves that it was all really true, as one by one the scents and
sounds and names of long-forgotten places come gradually back and beckon
to us.’

’Couldn’t you stop on for just this year?’ suggested the Water Rat,
wistfully. ’We’ll all do our best to make you feel at home. You’ve no
idea what good times we have here, while you are far away.’

’I tried "stopping on" one year,’ said the third swallow. ’I had grown
so fond of the place that when the time came I hung back and let the
others go on without me. For a few weeks it was all well enough, but
afterwards, O the weary length of the nights! The shivering, sunless
days! The air so clammy and chill, and not an insect in an acre of it!
No, it was no good; my courage broke down, and one cold, stormy night I
took wing, flying well inland on account of the strong easterly gales.
It was snowing hard as I beat through the passes of the great mountains,
and I had a stiff fight to win through; but never shall I forget the
blissful feeling of the hot sun again on my back as I sped down to the
lakes that lay so blue and placid below me, and the taste of my first
fat insect! The past was like a bad dream; the future was all happy
holiday as I moved southwards week by week, easily, lazily, lingering as
long as I dared, but always heeding the call! No, I had had my warning;
never again did I think of disobedience.’

’Ah, yes, the call of the South, of the South!’ twittered the other two
dreamily. ’Its songs its hues, its radiant air! O, do you remember----’
and, forgetting the Rat, they slid into passionate reminiscence, while
he listened fascinated, and his heart burned within him. In himself,
too, he knew that it was vibrating at last, that chord hitherto dormant
and unsuspected. The mere chatter of these southern-bound birds, their
pale and second-hand reports, had yet power to awaken this wild new
sensation and thrill him through and through with it; what would one
moment of the real thing work in him--one passionate touch of the real
southern sun, one waft of the authentic odor? With closed eyes he dared
to dream a moment in full abandonment, and when he looked again the
river seemed steely and chill, the green fields grey and lightless. Then
his loyal heart seemed to cry out on his weaker self for its treachery.

’Why do you ever come back, then, at all?’ he demanded of the swallows
jealously. ’What do you find to attract you in this poor drab little
country?’

’And do you think,’ said the first swallow, ’that the other call is
not for us too, in its due season? The call of lush meadow-grass, wet
orchards, warm, insect-haunted ponds, of browsing cattle, of haymaking,
and all the farm-buildings clustering round the House of the perfect
Eaves?’

’Do you suppose,’ asked the second one, that you are the only living
thing that craves with a hungry longing to hear the cuckoo’s note
again?’

’In due time,’ said the third, ’we shall be home-sick once more for
quiet water-lilies swaying on the surface of an English stream. But
to-day all that seems pale and thin and very far away. Just now our
blood dances to other music.’

They fell a-twittering among themselves once more, and this time their
intoxicating babble was of violet seas, tawny sands, and lizard-haunted
walls.

Restlessly the Rat wandered off once more, climbed the slope that rose
gently from the north bank of the river, and lay looking out towards
the great ring of Downs that barred his vision further southwards--his
simple horizon hitherto, his Mountains of the Moon, his limit behind
which lay nothing he had cared to see or to know. To-day, to him gazing
South with a new-born need stirring in his heart, the clear sky over
their long low outline seemed to pulsate with promise; to-day, the
unseen was everything, the unknown the only real fact of life. On this
side of the hills was now the real blank, on the other lay the crowded
and coloured panorama that his inner eye was seeing so clearly. What
seas lay beyond, green, leaping, and crested! What sun-bathed coasts,
along which the white villas glittered against the olive woods! What
quiet harbours, thronged with gallant shipping bound for purple islands
of wine and spice, islands set low in languorous waters!

He rose and descended river-wards once more; then changed his mind
and sought the side of the dusty lane. There, lying half-buried in the
thick, cool under-hedge tangle that bordered it, he could muse on the
metalled road and all the wondrous world that it led to; on all the
wayfarers, too, that might have trodden it, and the fortunes and
adventures they had gone to seek or found unseeking--out there,
beyond--beyond!

Footsteps fell on his ear, and the figure of one that walked somewhat
wearily came into view; and he saw that it was a Rat, and a very dusty
one. The wayfarer, as he reached him, saluted with a gesture of courtesy
that had something foreign about it--hesitated a moment--then with a
pleasant smile turned from the track and sat down by his side in the
cool herbage. He seemed tired, and the Rat let him rest unquestioned,
understanding something of what was in his thoughts; knowing, too, the
value all animals attach at times to mere silent companionship, when the
weary muscles slacken and the mind marks time.

The wayfarer was lean and keen-featured, and somewhat bowed at the
shoulders; his paws were thin and long, his eyes much wrinkled at the
corners, and he wore small gold ear rings in his neatly-set well-shaped
ears. His knitted jersey was of a faded blue, his breeches, patched and
stained, were based on a blue foundation, and his small belongings that
he carried were tied up in a blue cotton handkerchief.

When he had rested awhile the stranger sighed, snuffed the air, and
looked about him.

’That was clover, that warm whiff on the breeze,’ he remarked; ’and
those are cows we hear cropping the grass behind us and blowing softly
between mouthfuls. There is a sound of distant reapers, and yonder
rises a blue line of cottage smoke against the woodland. The river runs
somewhere close by, for I hear the call of a moorhen, and I see by your
build that you’re a freshwater mariner. Everything seems asleep, and
yet going on all the time. It is a goodly life that you lead, friend; no
doubt the best in the world, if only you are strong enough to lead it!’

’Yes, it’s THE life, the only life, to live,’ responded the Water Rat
dreamily, and without his usual whole-hearted conviction.

’I did not say exactly that,’ replied the stranger cautiously; ’but no
doubt it’s the best. I’ve tried it, and I know. And because I’ve just
tried it--six months of it--and know it’s the best, here am I, footsore
and hungry, tramping away from it, tramping southward, following the old
call, back to the old life, THE life which is mine and which will not
let me go.’

’Is this, then, yet another of them?’ mused the Rat. ’And where have
you just come from?’ he asked. He hardly dared to ask where he was bound
for; he seemed to know the answer only too well.

’Nice little farm,’ replied the wayfarer, briefly. ’Upalong in that

direction’--he nodded northwards. ’Never mind about it. I had everything
I could want--everything I had any right to expect of life, and more;
and here I am! Glad to be here all the same, though, glad to be here!
So many miles further on the road, so many hours nearer to my heart’s
desire!’

His shining eyes held fast to the horizon, and he seemed to be listening
for some sound that was wanting from that inland acreage, vocal as it
was with the cheerful music of pasturage and farmyard.

’You are not one of US,’ said the Water Rat, ’nor yet a farmer; nor
even, I should judge, of this country.’

’Right,’ replied the stranger. ’I’m a seafaring rat, I am, and the
port I originally hail from is Constantinople, though I’m a sort of a
foreigner there too, in a manner of speaking. You will have heard of
Constantinople, friend? A fair city, and an ancient and glorious one.
And you may have heard, too, of Sigurd, King of Norway, and how he
sailed thither with sixty ships, and how he and his men rode up through
streets all canopied in their honour with purple and gold; and how the
Emperor and Empress came down and banqueted with him on board his ship.
When Sigurd returned home, many of his Northmen remained behind and
entered the Emperor’s body-guard, and my ancestor, a Norwegian born,
stayed behind too, with the ships that Sigurd gave the Emperor.
Seafarers we have ever been, and no wonder; as for me, the city of my
birth is no more my home than any pleasant port between there and the
London River. I know them all, and they know me. Set me down on any of
their quays or foreshores, and I am home again.’

’I suppose you go great voyages,’ said the Water Rat with growing
interest. ’Months and months out of sight of land, and provisions
running short, and allowanced as to water, and your mind communing with
the mighty ocean, and all that sort of thing?’

’By no means,’ said the Sea Rat frankly. ’Such a life as you describe
would not suit me at all. I’m in the coasting trade, and rarely out of
sight of land. It’s the jolly times on shore that appeal to me, as much
as any seafaring. O, those southern seaports! The smell of them, the
riding-lights at night, the glamour!’

’Well, perhaps you have chosen the better way,’ said the Water Rat, but
rather doubtfully. ’Tell me something of your coasting, then, if you
have a mind to, and what sort of harvest an animal of spirit might hope
to bring home from it to warm his latter days with gallant memories by
the fireside; for my life, I confess to you, feels to me to-day somewhat
narrow and circumscribed.’

’My last voyage,’ began the Sea Rat, ’that landed me eventually in this
country, bound with high hopes for my inland farm, will serve as a good
example of any of them, and, indeed, as an epitome of my highly-coloured
life. Family troubles, as usual, began it. The domestic storm-cone was
hoisted, and I shipped myself on board a small trading vessel bound from
Constantinople, by classic seas whose every wave throbs with a deathless
memory, to the Grecian Islands and the Levant. Those were golden days
and balmy nights! In and out of harbour all the time--old friends
everywhere--sleeping in some cool temple or ruined cistern during the
heat of the day--feasting and song after sundown, under great stars
set in a velvet sky! Thence we turned and coasted up the Adriatic, its
shores swimming in an atmosphere of amber, rose, and aquamarine; we
lay in wide land-locked harbours, we roamed through ancient and noble
cities, until at last one morning, as the sun rose royally behind us, we
rode into Venice down a path of gold. O, Venice is a fine city, wherein
a rat can wander at his ease and take his pleasure! Or, when weary of
wandering, can sit at the edge of the Grand Canal at night, feasting
with his friends, when the air is full of music and the sky full of
stars, and the lights flash and shimmer on the polished steel prows of
the swaying gondolas, packed so that you could walk across the canal on
them from side to side! And then the food--do you like shellfish? Well,
well, we won’t linger over that now.’

He was silent for a time; and the Water Rat, silent too and enthralled,
floated on dream-canals and heard a phantom song pealing high between
vaporous grey wave-lapped walls.

’Southwards we sailed again at last,’ continued the Sea Rat, ’coasting

down the Italian shore, till finally we made Palermo, and there I
quitted for a long, happy spell on shore. I never stick too long to one
ship; one gets narrow-minded and prejudiced. Besides, Sicily is one of
my happy hunting-grounds. I know everybody there, and their ways just
suit me. I spent many jolly weeks in the island, staying with friends up
country. When I grew restless again I took advantage of a ship that was
trading to Sardinia and Corsica; and very glad I was to feel the fresh
breeze and the sea-spray in my face once more.’

’But isn’t it very hot and stuffy, down in the--hold, I think you call
it?’ asked the Water Rat.

The seafarer looked at him with the suspicion go a wink. ’I’m an old
hand,’ he remarked with much simplicity. ’The captain’s cabin’s good
enough for me.’

’It’s a hard life, by all accounts,’ murmured the Rat, sunk in deep
thought.

’For the crew it is,’ replied the seafarer gravely, again with the ghost
of a wink.

’From Corsica,’ he went on, ’I made use of a ship that was taking wine
to the mainland. We made Alassio in the evening, lay to, hauled up our
wine-casks, and hove them overboard, tied one to the other by a long
line. Then the crew took to the boats and rowed shorewards, singing as
they went, and drawing after them the long bobbing procession of casks,
like a mile of porpoises. On the sands they had horses waiting, which
dragged the casks up the steep street of the little town with a fine
rush and clatter and scramble. When the last cask was in, we went and
refreshed and rested, and sat late into the night, drinking with our
friends, and next morning I took to the great olive-woods for a spell
and a rest. For now I had done with islands for the time, and ports and
shipping were plentiful; so I led a lazy life among the peasants, lying
and watching them work, or stretched high on the hillside with the blue
Mediterranean far below me. And so at length, by easy stages, and partly
on foot, partly by sea, to Marseilles, and the meeting of old shipmates,
and the visiting of great ocean-bound vessels, and feasting once
more. Talk of shell-fish! Why, sometimes I dream of the shell-fish of
Marseilles, and wake up crying!’

’That reminds me,’ said the polite Water Rat; ’you happened to mention
that you were hungry, and I ought to have spoken earlier. Of course, you
will stop and take your midday meal with me? My hole is close by; it is
some time past noon, and you are very welcome to whatever there is.’

’Now I call that kind and brotherly of you,’ said the Sea Rat. ’I was
indeed hungry when I sat down, and ever since I inadvertently happened
to mention shell-fish, my pangs have been extreme. But couldn’t you
fetch it along out here? I am none too fond of going under hatches,
unless I’m obliged to; and then, while we eat, I could tell you more
concerning my voyages and the pleasant life I lead--at least, it is very
pleasant to me, and by your attention I judge it commends itself to you;
whereas if we go indoors it is a hundred to one that I shall presently
fall asleep.’

’That is indeed an excellent suggestion,’ said the Water Rat, and

hurried off home. There he got out the luncheon-basket and packed
a simple meal, in which, remembering the stranger’s origin and
preferences, he took care to include a yard of long French bread, a
sausage out of which the garlic sang, some cheese which lay down
and cried, and a long-necked straw-covered flask wherein lay bottled
sunshine shed and garnered on far Southern slopes. Thus laden, he
returned with all speed, and blushed for pleasure at the old seaman’s
commendations of his taste and judgment, as together they unpacked the
basket and laid out the contents on the grass by the roadside.

The Sea Rat, as soon as his hunger was somewhat assuaged, continued the
history of his latest voyage, conducting his simple hearer from port to
port of Spain, landing him at Lisbon, Oporto, and Bordeaux, introducing
him to the pleasant harbours of Cornwall and Devon, and so up the
Channel to that final quayside, where, landing after winds long
contrary, storm-driven and weather-beaten, he had caught the first
magical hints and heraldings of another Spring, and, fired by these, had
sped on a long tramp inland, hungry for the experiment of life on some
quiet farmstead, very far from the weary beating of any sea.

Spell-bound and quivering with excitement, the Water Rat followed

the Adventurer league by league, over stormy bays, through crowded
roadsteads, across harbour bars on a racing tide, up winding rivers that
hid their busy little towns round a sudden turn; and left him with a
regretful sigh planted at his dull inland farm, about which he desired
to hear nothing.

By this time their meal was over, and the Seafarer, refreshed and
strengthened, his voice more vibrant, his eye lit with a brightness that
seemed caught from some far-away sea-beacon, filled his glass with the
red and glowing vintage of the South, and, leaning towards the Water
Rat, compelled his gaze and held him, body and soul, while he talked.
Those eyes were of the changing foam-streaked grey-green of leaping
Northern seas; in the glass shone a hot ruby that seemed the very
heart of the South, beating for him who had courage to respond to its
pulsation. The twin lights, the shifting grey and the steadfast red,
mastered the Water Rat and held him bound, fascinated, powerless. The
quiet world outside their rays receded far away and ceased to be. And
the talk, the wonderful talk flowed on--or was it speech entirely,
or did it pass at times into song--chanty of the sailors weighing the
dripping anchor, sonorous hum of the shrouds in a tearing North-Easter,
ballad of the fisherman hauling his nets at sundown against an apricot
sky, chords of guitar and mandoline from gondola or caique? Did it
change into the cry of the wind, plaintive at first, angrily shrill as
it freshened, rising to a tearing whistle, sinking to a musical trickle
of air from the leech of the bellying sail? All these sounds the
spell-bound listener seemed to hear, and with them the hungry complaint
of the gulls and the sea-mews, the soft thunder of the breaking wave,
the cry of the protesting shingle. Back into speech again it passed, and
with beating heart he was following the adventures of a dozen seaports,
the fights, the escapes, the rallies, the comradeships, the gallant
undertakings; or he searched islands for treasure, fished in still
lagoons and dozed day-long on warm white sand. Of deep-sea fishings he
heard tell, and mighty silver gatherings of the mile-long net; of sudden
perils, noise of breakers on a moonless night, or the tall bows of
the great liner taking shape overhead through the fog; of the merry
home-coming, the headland rounded, the harbour lights opened out;
the groups seen dimly on the quay, the cheery hail, the splash of the
hawser; the trudge up the steep little street towards the comforting
glow of red-curtained windows.

Lastly, in his waking dream it seemed to him that the Adventurer had
risen to his feet, but was still speaking, still holding him fast with
his sea-grey eyes.

’And now,’ he was softly saying, ’I take to the road again, holding on
southwestwards for many a long and dusty day; till at last I reach the
little grey sea town I know so well, that clings along one steep side of
the harbour. There through dark doorways you look down flights of stone
steps, overhung by great pink tufts of valerian and ending in a patch
of sparkling blue water. The little boats that lie tethered to the
rings and stanchions of the old sea-wall are gaily painted as those
I clambered in and out of in my own childhood; the salmon leap on the
flood tide, schools of mackerel flash and play past quay-sides and
foreshores, and by the windows the great vessels glide, night and day,
up to their moorings or forth to the open sea. There, sooner or later,
the ships of all seafaring nations arrive; and there, at its destined
hour, the ship of my choice will let go its anchor. I shall take my
time, I shall tarry and bide, till at last the right one lies waiting
for me, warped out into midstream, loaded low, her bowsprit pointing
down harbour. I shall slip on board, by boat or along hawser; and then
one morning I shall wake to the song and tramp of the sailors, the clink
of the capstan, and the rattle of the anchor-chain coming merrily in.
We shall break out the jib and the foresail, the white houses on the
harbour side will glide slowly past us as she gathers steering-way, and
the voyage will have begun! As she forges towards the headland she will
clothe herself with canvas; and then, once outside, the sounding slap of
great green seas as she heels to the wind, pointing South!

’And you, you will come too, young brother; for the days pass, and never
return, and the South still waits for you. Take the Adventure, heed the
call, now ere the irrevocable moment passes!’ ’Tis but a banging of the
door behind you, a blithesome step forward, and you are out of the old
life and into the new! Then some day, some day long hence, jog home here
if you will, when the cup has been drained and the play has been played,
and sit down by your quiet river with a store of goodly memories for
company. You can easily overtake me on the road, for you are young, and
I am ageing and go softly. I will linger, and look back; and at last I
will surely see you coming, eager and light-hearted, with all the South
in your face!’

The voice died away and ceased as an insect’s tiny trumpet dwindles
swiftly into silence; and the Water Rat, paralysed and staring, saw at
last but a distant speck on the white surface of the road.

Mechanically he rose and proceeded to repack the luncheon-basket,

carefully and without haste. Mechanically he returned home, gathered
together a few small necessaries and special treasures he was fond of,
and put them in a satchel; acting with slow deliberation, moving about
the room like a sleep-walker; listening ever with parted lips. He swung
the satchel over his shoulder, carefully selected a stout stick for his
wayfaring, and with no haste, but with no hesitation at all, he stepped
across the threshold just as the Mole appeared at the door.

’Why, where are you off to, Ratty?’ asked the Mole in great surprise,
grasping him by the arm.

’Going South, with the rest of them,’ murmured the Rat in a dreamy
monotone, never looking at him. ’Seawards first and then on shipboard,
and so to the shores that are calling me!’

He pressed resolutely forward, still without haste, but with dogged

fixity of purpose; but the Mole, now thoroughly alarmed, placed himself
in front of him, and looking into his eyes saw that they were glazed and
set and turned a streaked and shifting grey--not his friend’s eyes, but
the eyes of some other animal! Grappling with him strongly he dragged
him inside, threw him down, and held him.

The Rat struggled desperately for a few moments, and then his strength
seemed suddenly to leave him, and he lay still and exhausted, with
closed eyes, trembling. Presently the Mole assisted him to rise and
placed him in a chair, where he sat collapsed and shrunken into
himself, his body shaken by a violent shivering, passing in time into
an hysterical fit of dry sobbing. Mole made the door fast, threw the
satchel into a drawer and locked it, and sat down quietly on the table
by his friend, waiting for the strange seizure to pass. Gradually the
Rat sank into a troubled doze, broken by starts and confused murmurings
of things strange and wild and foreign to the unenlightened Mole; and
from that he passed into a deep slumber.

Very anxious in mind, the Mole left him for a time and busied himself
with household matters; and it was getting dark when he returned to the
parlour and found the Rat where he had left him, wide awake indeed, but
listless, silent, and dejected. He took one hasty glance at his eyes;
found them, to his great gratification, clear and dark and brown again
as before; and then sat down and tried to cheer him up and help him to
relate what had happened to him.

Poor Ratty did his best, by degrees, to explain things; but how could
he put into cold words what had mostly been suggestion? How recall, for
another’s benefit, the haunting sea voices that had sung to him,
how reproduce at second-hand the magic of the Seafarer’s hundred
reminiscences? Even to himself, now the spell was broken and the glamour
gone, he found it difficult to account for what had seemed, some hours
ago, the inevitable and only thing. It is not surprising, then, that he
failed to convey to the Mole any clear idea of what he had been through
that day.

To the Mole this much was plain: the fit, or attack, had passed
away, and had left him sane again, though shaken and cast down by the
reaction. But he seemed to have lost all interest for the time in the
things that went to make up his daily life, as well as in all pleasant
forecastings of the altered days and doings that the changing season was
surely bringing.

Casually, then, and with seeming indifference, the Mole turned his talk
to the harvest that was being gathered in, the towering wagons and their
straining teams, the growing ricks, and the large moon rising over bare
acres dotted with sheaves. He talked of the reddening apples around, of
the browning nuts, of jams and preserves and the distilling of cordials;
till by easy stages such as these he reached midwinter, its hearty joys
and its snug home life, and then he became simply lyrical.

By degrees the Rat began to sit up and to join in. His dull eye
brightened, and he lost some of his listening air.

Presently the tactful Mole slipped away and returned with a pencil and
a few half-sheets of paper, which he placed on the table at his friend’s
elbow.

’It’s quite a long time since you did any poetry,’ he remarked. ’You
might have a try at it this evening, instead of--well, brooding over
things so much. I’ve an idea that you’ll feel a lot better when you’ve
got something jotted down--if it’s only just the rhymes.’

The Rat pushed the paper away from him wearily, but the discreet Mole
took occasion to leave the room, and when he peeped in again some
time later, the Rat was absorbed and deaf to the world; alternately
scribbling and sucking the top of his pencil. It is true that he sucked
a good deal more than he scribbled; but it was joy to the Mole to know
that the cure had at least begun.

X. THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF TOAD

The front door of the hollow tree faced eastwards, so Toad was called at
an early hour; partly by the bright sunlight streaming in on him, partly
by the exceeding coldness of his toes, which made him dream that he was
at home in bed in his own handsome room with the Tudor window, on a cold
winter’s night, and his bedclothes had got up, grumbling and protesting
they couldn’t stand the cold any longer, and had run downstairs to the
kitchen fire to warm themselves; and he had followed, on bare feet,
along miles and miles of icy stone-paved passages, arguing and
beseeching them to be reasonable. He would probably have been aroused
much earlier, had he not slept for some weeks on straw over stone flags,
and almost forgotten the friendly feeling of thick blankets pulled well
up round the chin.

Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes first and his complaining toes next,
wondered for a moment where he was, looking round for familiar
stone wall and little barred window; then, with a leap of the heart,
remembered everything--his escape, his flight, his pursuit; remembered,
first and best thing of all, that he was free!

Free! The word and the thought alone were worth fifty blankets. He was
warm from end to end as he thought of the jolly world outside, waiting
eagerly for him to make his triumphal entrance, ready to serve him
and play up to him, anxious to help him and to keep him company, as it
always had been in days of old before misfortune fell upon him. He shook
himself and combed the dry leaves out of his hair with his fingers; and,
his toilet complete, marched forth into the comfortable morning sun,
cold but confident, hungry but hopeful, all nervous terrors of yesterday
dispelled by rest and sleep and frank and heartening sunshine.

He had the world all to himself, that early summer morning. The dewy
woodland, as he threaded it, was solitary and still: the green fields
that succeeded the trees were his own to do as he liked with; the road
itself, when he reached it, in that loneliness that was everywhere,
seemed, like a stray dog, to be looking anxiously for company. Toad,
however, was looking for something that could talk, and tell him clearly
which way he ought to go. It is all very well, when you have a light
heart, and a clear conscience, and money in your pocket, and nobody
scouring the country for you to drag you off to prison again, to follow
where the road beckons and points, not caring whither. The practical
Toad cared very much indeed, and he could have kicked the road for its
helpless silence when every minute was of importance to him.

The reserved rustic road was presently joined by a shy little brother in
the shape of a canal, which took its hand and ambled along by its side
in perfect confidence, but with the same tongue-tied, uncommunicative
attitude towards strangers. ’Bother them!’ said Toad to himself. ’But,
anyhow, one thing’s clear. They must both be coming FROM somewhere,
and going TO somewhere. You can’t get over that. Toad, my boy!’ So he
marched on patiently by the water’s edge.

Round a bend in the canal came plodding a solitary horse, stooping

forward as if in anxious thought. From rope traces attached to his
collar stretched a long line, taut, but dipping with his stride, the
further part of it dripping pearly drops. Toad let the horse pass, and
stood waiting for what the fates were sending him.

With a pleasant swirl of quiet water at its blunt bow the barge slid up
alongside of him, its gaily painted gunwale level with the towing-path,
its sole occupant a big stout woman wearing a linen sun-bonnet, one
brawny arm laid along the tiller.

’A nice morning, ma’am!’ she remarked to Toad, as she drew up level with
him.

’I dare say it is, ma’am!’ responded Toad politely, as he walked along

the tow-path abreast of her. ’I dare it IS a nice morning to them that’s
not in sore trouble, like what I am. Here’s my married daughter, she
sends off to me post-haste to come to her at once; so off I comes, not
knowing what may be happening or going to happen, but fearing the worst,
as you will understand, ma’am, if you’re a mother, too. And I’ve left my
business to look after itself--I’m in the washing and laundering line,
you must know, ma’am--and I’ve left my young children to look after
themselves, and a more mischievous and troublesome set of young imps
doesn’t exist, ma’am; and I’ve lost all my money, and lost my way, and
as for what may be happening to my married daughter, why, I don’t like
to think of it, ma’am!’

’Where might your married daughter be living, ma’am?’ asked the

barge-woman.

’She lives near to the river, ma’am,’ replied Toad. ’Close to a fine
house called Toad Hall, that’s somewheres hereabouts in these parts.
Perhaps you may have heard of it.’

’Toad Hall? Why, I’m going that way myself,’ replied the barge-woman.
’This canal joins the river some miles further on, a little above Toad
Hall; and then it’s an easy walk. You come along in the barge with me,
and I’ll give you a lift.’

She steered the barge close to the bank, and Toad, with many humble and
grateful acknowledgments, stepped lightly on board and sat down with
great satisfaction. ’Toad’s luck again!’ thought he. ’I always come out
on top!’
’So you’re in the washing business, ma’am?’ said the barge-woman
politely, as they glided along. ’And a very good business you’ve got
too, I dare say, if I’m not making too free in saying so.’

’Finest business in the whole country,’ said Toad airily. ’All the
gentry come to me--wouldn’t go to any one else if they were paid, they
know me so well. You see, I understand my work thoroughly, and attend to
it all myself. Washing, ironing, clear-starching, making up gents’ fine
shirts for evening wear--everything’s done under my own eye!’

’But surely you don’t DO all that work yourself, ma’am?’ asked the
barge-woman respectfully.

’O, I have girls,’ said Toad lightly: ’twenty girls or thereabouts,

always at work. But you know what GIRLS are, ma’am! Nasty little
hussies, that’s what _I_ call ’em!’

’So do I, too,’ said the barge-woman with great heartiness. ’But I dare
say you set yours to rights, the idle trollops! And are you very fond of
washing?’

’I love it,’ said Toad. ’I simply dote on it. Never so happy as when
I’ve got both arms in the wash-tub. But, then, it comes so easy to me!
No trouble at all! A real pleasure, I assure you, ma’am!’

’What a bit of luck, meeting you!’ observed the barge-woman,

thoughtfully. ’A regular piece of good fortune for both of us!’

’Why, what do you mean?’ asked Toad, nervously.

’Well, look at me, now,’ replied the barge-woman. ’_I_ like washing,
too, just the same as you do; and for that matter, whether I like it or
not I have got to do all my own, naturally, moving about as I do. Now my
husband, he’s such a fellow for shirking his work and leaving the barge
to me, that never a moment do I get for seeing to my own affairs. By
rights he ought to be here now, either steering or attending to the
horse, though luckily the horse has sense enough to attend to himself.
Instead of which, he’s gone off with the dog, to see if they can’t pick
up a rabbit for dinner somewhere. Says he’ll catch me up at the next
lock. Well, that’s as may be--I don’t trust him, once he gets off with
that dog, who’s worse than he is. But meantime, how am I to get on with
my washing?’

’O, never mind about the washing,’ said Toad, not liking the subject.
’Try and fix your mind on that rabbit. A nice fat young rabbit, I’ll be
bound. Got any onions?’

’I can’t fix my mind on anything but my washing,’ said the barge-woman,

’and I wonder you can be talking of rabbits, with such a joyful prospect
before you. There’s a heap of things of mine that you’ll find in
a corner of the cabin. If you’ll just take one or two of the most
necessary sort--I won’t venture to describe them to a lady like you, but
you’ll recognise them at a glance--and put them through the wash-tub as
we go along, why, it’ll be a pleasure to you, as you rightly say, and a
real help to me. You’ll find a tub handy, and soap, and a kettle on the
stove, and a bucket to haul up water from the canal with. Then I shall
know you’re enjoying yourself, instead of sitting here idle, looking at
the scenery and yawning your head off.’

’Here, you let me steer!’ said Toad, now thoroughly frightened, ’and
then you can get on with your washing your own way. I might spoil your
things, or not do ’em as you like. I’m more used to gentlemen’s things
myself. It’s my special line.’

’Let you steer?’ replied the barge-woman, laughing. ’It takes some
practice to steer a barge properly. Besides, it’s dull work, and I want
you to be happy. No, you shall do the washing you are so fond of, and
I’ll stick to the steering that I understand. Don’t try and deprive me
of the pleasure of giving you a treat!’

Toad was fairly cornered. He looked for escape this way and that,
saw that he was too far from the bank for a flying leap, and sullenly
resigned himself to his fate. ’If it comes to that,’ he thought in
desperation, ’I suppose any fool can WASH!’

He fetched tub, soap, and other necessaries from the cabin, selected a
few garments at random, tried to recollect what he had seen in casual
glances through laundry windows, and set to.

A long half-hour passed, and every minute of it saw Toad getting crosser
and crosser. Nothing that he could do to the things seemed to please
them or do them good. He tried coaxing, he tried slapping, he tried
punching; they smiled back at him out of the tub unconverted, happy in
their original sin. Once or twice he looked nervously over his shoulder
at the barge-woman, but she appeared to be gazing out in front of her,
absorbed in her steering. His back ached badly, and he noticed with
dismay that his paws were beginning to get all crinkly. Now Toad was
very proud of his paws. He muttered under his breath words that should
never pass the lips of either washerwomen or Toads; and lost the soap,
for the fiftieth time.

A burst of laughter made him straighten himself and look round. The
barge-woman was leaning back and laughing unrestrainedly, till the tears
ran down her cheeks.

’I’ve been watching you all the time,’ she gasped. ’I thought you
must be a humbug all along, from the conceited way you talked. Pretty
washerwoman you are! Never washed so much as a dish-clout in your life,
I’ll lay!’

Toad’s temper which had been simmering viciously for some time, now
fairly boiled over, and he lost all control of himself.

’You common, low, FAT barge-woman!’ he shouted; ’don’t you dare to talk
to your betters like that! Washerwoman indeed! I would have you to know
that I am a Toad, a very well-known, respected, distinguished Toad! I
may be under a bit of a cloud at present, but I will NOT be laughed at
by a bargewoman!’

The woman moved nearer to him and peered under his bonnet keenly and
closely. ’Why, so you are!’ she cried. ’Well, I never! A horrid, nasty,
crawly Toad! And in my nice clean barge, too! Now that is a thing that I
will NOT have.’

She relinquished the tiller for a moment. One big mottled arm shot out
and caught Toad by a fore-leg, while the other-gripped him fast by a
hind-leg. Then the world turned suddenly upside down, the barge seemed
to flit lightly across the sky, the wind whistled in his ears, and Toad
found himself flying through the air, revolving rapidly as he went.
The water, when he eventually reached it with a loud splash, proved
quite cold enough for his taste, though its chill was not sufficient to
quell his proud spirit, or slake the heat of his furious temper. He rose
to the surface spluttering, and when he had wiped the duck-weed out of
his eyes the first thing he saw was the fat barge-woman looking back at
him over the stern of the retreating barge and laughing; and he vowed,
as he coughed and choked, to be even with her.

He struck out for the shore, but the cotton gown greatly impeded his
efforts, and when at length he touched land he found it hard to climb
up the steep bank unassisted. He had to take a minute or two’s rest to
recover his breath; then, gathering his wet skirts well over his arms,
he started to run after the barge as fast as his legs would carry him,
wild with indignation, thirsting for revenge.

The barge-woman was still laughing when he drew up level with her. ’Put
yourself through your mangle, washerwoman,’ she called out, ’and iron
your face and crimp it, and you’ll pass for quite a decent-looking
Toad!’

Toad never paused to reply. Solid revenge was what he wanted, not cheap,
windy, verbal triumphs, though he had a thing or two in his mind that
he would have liked to say. He saw what he wanted ahead of him. Running
swiftly on he overtook the horse, unfastened the towrope and cast off,
jumped lightly on the horse’s back, and urged it to a gallop by kicking
it vigorously in the sides. He steered for the open country, abandoning
the tow-path, and swinging his steed down a rutty lane. Once he looked
back, and saw that the barge had run aground on the other side of the
canal, and the barge-woman was gesticulating wildly and shouting, ’Stop,
stop, stop!’ ’I’ve heard that song before,’ said Toad, laughing, as he
continued to spur his steed onward in its wild career.

The barge-horse was not capable of any very sustained effort, and its
gallop soon subsided into a trot, and its trot into an easy walk; but
Toad was quite contented with this, knowing that he, at any rate, was
moving, and the barge was not. He had quite recovered his temper,
now that he had done something he thought really clever; and he was
satisfied to jog along quietly in the sun, steering his horse along
by-ways and bridle-paths, and trying to forget how very long it was
since he had had a square meal, till the canal had been left very far
behind him.

He had travelled some miles, his horse and he, and he was feeling drowsy
in the hot sunshine, when the horse stopped, lowered his head, and
began to nibble the grass; and Toad, waking up, just saved himself from
falling off by an effort. He looked about him and found he was on a wide
common, dotted with patches of gorse and bramble as far as he could see.
Near him stood a dingy gipsy caravan, and beside it a man was sitting on
a bucket turned upside down, very busy smoking and staring into the wide
world. A fire of sticks was burning near by, and over the fire hung an
iron pot, and out of that pot came forth bubblings and gurglings, and
a vague suggestive steaminess. Also smells--warm, rich, and varied
smells--that twined and twisted and wreathed themselves at last into one
complete, voluptuous, perfect smell that seemed like the very soul of
Nature taking form and appearing to her children, a true Goddess, a
mother of solace and comfort. Toad now knew well that he had not been
really hungry before. What he had felt earlier in the day had been a
mere trifling qualm. This was the real thing at last, and no mistake;
and it would have to be dealt with speedily, too, or there would be
trouble for somebody or something. He looked the gipsy over carefully,
wondering vaguely whether it would be easier to fight him or cajole him.
So there he sat, and sniffed and sniffed, and looked at the gipsy; and
the gipsy sat and smoked, and looked at him.

Presently the gipsy took his pipe out of his mouth and remarked in a
careless way, ’Want to sell that there horse of yours?’

Toad was completely taken aback. He did not know that gipsies were very
fond of horse-dealing, and never missed an opportunity, and he had
not reflected that caravans were always on the move and took a deal of
drawing. It had not occurred to him to turn the horse into cash, but the
gipsy’s suggestion seemed to smooth the way towards the two things he
wanted so badly--ready money, and a solid breakfast.

’What?’ he said, ’me sell this beautiful young horse of mine? O, no;
it’s out of the question. Who’s going to take the washing home to my
customers every week? Besides, I’m too fond of him, and he simply dotes
on me.’

’Try and love a donkey,’ suggested the gipsy. ’Some people do.’

’You don’t seem to see,’ continued Toad, ’that this fine horse of mine
is a cut above you altogether. He’s a blood horse, he is, partly;
not the part you see, of course--another part. And he’s been a Prize
Hackney, too, in his time--that was the time before you knew him, but
you can still tell it on him at a glance, if you understand anything
about horses. No, it’s not to be thought of for a moment. All the same,
how much might you be disposed to offer me for this beautiful young
horse of mine?’

The gipsy looked the horse over, and then he looked Toad over with equal
care, and looked at the horse again. ’Shillin’ a leg,’ he said briefly,
and turned away, continuing to smoke and try to stare the wide world out
of countenance.

’A shilling a leg?’ cried Toad. ’If you please, I must take a little
time to work that out, and see just what it comes to.’

He climbed down off his horse, and left it to graze, and sat down by the
gipsy, and did sums on his fingers, and at last he said, ’A shilling a
leg? Why, that comes to exactly four shillings, and no more. O, no; I
could not think of accepting four shillings for this beautiful young
horse of mine.’

’Well,’ said the gipsy, ’I’ll tell you what I will do. I’ll make it five
shillings, and that’s three-and-sixpence more than the animal’s worth.
And that’s my last word.’

Then Toad sat and pondered long and deeply. For he was hungry and quite
penniless, and still some way--he knew not how far--from home, and
enemies might still be looking for him. To one in such a situation, five
shillings may very well appear a large sum of money. On the other hand,
it did not seem very much to get for a horse. But then, again, the horse
hadn’t cost him anything; so whatever he got was all clear profit. At
last he said firmly, ’Look here, gipsy! I tell you what we will do; and
this is MY last word. You shall hand me over six shillings and sixpence,
cash down; and further, in addition thereto, you shall give me as much
breakfast as I can possibly eat, at one sitting of course, out of that
iron pot of yours that keeps sending forth such delicious and exciting
smells. In return, I will make over to you my spirited young horse, with
all the beautiful harness and trappings that are on him, freely thrown
in. If that’s not good enough for you, say so, and I’ll be getting on. I
know a man near here who’s wanted this horse of mine for years.’

The gipsy grumbled frightfully, and declared if he did a few more deals
of that sort he’d be ruined. But in the end he lugged a dirty canvas bag
out of the depths of his trouser pocket, and counted out six shillings
and sixpence into Toad’s paw. Then he disappeared into the caravan for
an instant, and returned with a large iron plate and a knife, fork,
and spoon. He tilted up the pot, and a glorious stream of hot rich stew
gurgled into the plate. It was, indeed, the most beautiful stew in the
world, being made of partridges, and pheasants, and chickens, and
hares, and rabbits, and pea-hens, and guinea-fowls, and one or two other
things. Toad took the plate on his lap, almost crying, and stuffed,
and stuffed, and stuffed, and kept asking for more, and the gipsy never
grudged it him. He thought that he had never eaten so good a breakfast
in all his life.

When Toad had taken as much stew on board as he thought he could

possibly hold, he got up and said good-bye to the gipsy, and took
an affectionate farewell of the horse; and the gipsy, who knew the
riverside well, gave him directions which way to go, and he set forth on
his travels again in the best possible spirits. He was, indeed, a very
different Toad from the animal of an hour ago. The sun was shining
brightly, his wet clothes were quite dry again, he had money in his
pocket once more, he was nearing home and friends and safety, and, most
and best of all, he had had a substantial meal, hot and nourishing, and
felt big, and strong, and careless, and self-confident.

As he tramped along gaily, he thought of his adventures and escapes, and

how when things seemed at their worst he had always managed to find a
way out; and his pride and conceit began to swell within him. ’Ho, ho!’
he said to himself as he marched along with his chin in the air, ’what
a clever Toad I am! There is surely no animal equal to me for cleverness
in the whole world! My enemies shut me up in prison, encircled by
sentries, watched night and day by warders; I walk out through them all,
by sheer ability coupled with courage. They pursue me with engines,
and policemen, and revolvers; I snap my fingers at them, and vanish,
laughing, into space. I am, unfortunately, thrown into a canal by a
woman fat of body and very evil-minded. What of it? I swim ashore, I
seize her horse, I ride off in triumph, and I sell the horse for a whole
pocketful of money and an excellent breakfast! Ho, ho! I am The Toad,
the handsome, the popular, the successful Toad!’ He got so puffed up
with conceit that he made up a song as he walked in praise of himself,
and sang it at the top of his voice, though there was no one to hear
it but him. It was perhaps the most conceited song that any animal ever
composed.

’The world has held great Heroes, As history-books have showed; But
never a name to go down to fame Compared with that of Toad!

’The clever men at Oxford Know all that there is to be knowed. But they
none of them know one half as much As intelligent Mr. Toad!

’The animals sat in the Ark and cried, Their tears in torrents flowed.
Who was it said, "There’s land ahead?" Encouraging Mr. Toad!

’The army all saluted As they marched along the road. Was it the King?
Or Kitchener? No. It was Mr. Toad.
’The Queen and her Ladies-in-waiting Sat at the window and sewed. She
cried, "Look! who’s that HANDSOME man?" They answered, "Mr. Toad."’

There was a great deal more of the same sort, but too dreadfully
conceited to be written down. These are some of the milder verses.

He sang as he walked, and he walked as he sang, and got more inflated

every minute. But his pride was shortly to have a severe fall.

After some miles of country lanes he reached the high road, and as he
turned into it and glanced along its white length, he saw approaching
him a speck that turned into a dot and then into a blob, and then into
something very familiar; and a double note of warning, only too well
known, fell on his delighted ear.

’This is something like!’ said the excited Toad. ’This is real life
again, this is once more the great world from which I have been missed
so long! I will hail them, my brothers of the wheel, and pitch them a
yarn, of the sort that has been so successful hitherto; and they will
give me a lift, of course, and then I will talk to them some more; and,
perhaps, with luck, it may even end in my driving up to Toad Hall in a
motor-car! That will be one in the eye for Badger!’

He stepped confidently out into the road to hail the motor-car, which
came along at an easy pace, slowing down as it neared the lane; when
suddenly he became very pale, his heart turned to water, his knees shook
and yielded under him, and he doubled up and collapsed with a sickening
pain in his interior. And well he might, the unhappy animal; for the
approaching car was the very one he had stolen out of the yard of the
Red Lion Hotel on that fatal day when all his troubles began! And
the people in it were the very same people he had sat and watched at
luncheon in the coffee-room!

He sank down in a shabby, miserable heap in the road, murmuring to

himself in his despair, ’It’s all up! It’s all over now! Chains and
policemen again! Prison again! Dry bread and water again! O, what a
fool I have been! What did I want to go strutting about the country for,
singing conceited songs, and hailing people in broad day on the high
road, instead of hiding till nightfall and slipping home quietly by back
ways! O hapless Toad! O ill-fated animal!’

The terrible motor-car drew slowly nearer and nearer, till at last he
heard it stop just short of him. Two gentlemen got out and walked round
the trembling heap of crumpled misery lying in the road, and one of them
said, ’O dear! this is very sad! Here is a poor old thing--a washerwoman
apparently--who has fainted in the road! Perhaps she is overcome by the
heat, poor creature; or possibly she has not had any food to-day. Let
us lift her into the car and take her to the nearest village, where
doubtless she has friends.’

They tenderly lifted Toad into the motor-car and propped him up with
soft cushions, and proceeded on their way.

When Toad heard them talk in so kind and sympathetic a way, and
knew that he was not recognised, his courage began to revive, and he
cautiously opened first one eye and then the other.

’Look!’ said one of the gentlemen, ’she is better already. The fresh air
is doing her good. How do you feel now, ma’am?’
’Thank you kindly, Sir,’ said Toad in a feeble voice, ’I’m feeling a
great deal better!’ ’That’s right,’ said the gentleman. ’Now keep quite
still, and, above all, don’t try to talk.’

’I won’t,’ said Toad. ’I was only thinking, if I might sit on the front
seat there, beside the driver, where I could get the fresh air full in
my face, I should soon be all right again.’

’What a very sensible woman!’ said the gentleman. ’Of course you shall.’
So they carefully helped Toad into the front seat beside the driver, and
on they went again.

Toad was almost himself again by now. He sat up, looked about him, and
tried to beat down the tremors, the yearnings, the old cravings that
rose up and beset him and took possession of him entirely.

’It is fate!’ he said to himself. ’Why strive? why struggle?’ and he

turned to the driver at his side.

’Please, Sir,’ he said, ’I wish you would kindly let me try and drive
the car for a little. I’ve been watching you carefully, and it looks so
easy and so interesting, and I should like to be able to tell my friends
that once I had driven a motor-car!’

The driver laughed at the proposal, so heartily that the gentleman

inquired what the matter was. When he heard, he said, to Toad’s delight,
’Bravo, ma’am! I like your spirit. Let her have a try, and look after
her. She won’t do any harm.’

Toad eagerly scrambled into the seat vacated by the driver, took the
steering-wheel in his hands, listened with affected humility to the
instructions given him, and set the car in motion, but very slowly and
carefully at first, for he was determined to be prudent.

The gentlemen behind clapped their hands and applauded, and Toad heard
them saying, ’How well she does it! Fancy a washerwoman driving a car as
well as that, the first time!’

Toad went a little faster; then faster still, and faster.

He heard the gentlemen call out warningly, ’Be careful, washerwoman!’

And this annoyed him, and he began to lose his head.

The driver tried to interfere, but he pinned him down in his seat with
one elbow, and put on full speed. The rush of air in his face, the hum
of the engines, and the light jump of the car beneath him intoxicated
his weak brain. ’Washerwoman, indeed!’ he shouted recklessly. ’Ho! ho!
I am the Toad, the motor-car snatcher, the prison-breaker, the Toad who
always escapes! Sit still, and you shall know what driving really
is, for you are in the hands of the famous, the skilful, the entirely
fearless Toad!’

With a cry of horror the whole party rose and flung themselves on him.
’Seize him!’ they cried, ’seize the Toad, the wicked animal who
stole our motor-car! Bind him, chain him, drag him to the nearest
police-station! Down with the desperate and dangerous Toad!’

Alas! they should have thought, they ought to have been more prudent,
they should have remembered to stop the motor-car somehow before playing
any pranks of that sort. With a half-turn of the wheel the Toad sent
the car crashing through the low hedge that ran along the roadside. One
mighty bound, a violent shock, and the wheels of the car were churning
up the thick mud of a horse-pond.

Toad found himself flying through the air with the strong upward rush
and delicate curve of a swallow. He liked the motion, and was just
beginning to wonder whether it would go on until he developed wings and
turned into a Toad-bird, when he landed on his back with a thump, in the
soft rich grass of a meadow. Sitting up, he could just see the motor-car
in the pond, nearly submerged; the gentlemen and the driver, encumbered
by their long coats, were floundering helplessly in the water.

He picked himself up rapidly, and set off running across country as hard
as he could, scrambling through hedges, jumping ditches, pounding across
fields, till he was breathless and weary, and had to settle down into
an easy walk. When he had recovered his breath somewhat, and was able to
think calmly, he began to giggle, and from giggling he took to laughing,
and he laughed till he had to sit down under a hedge. ’Ho, ho!’ he
cried, in ecstasies of self-admiration, ’Toad again! Toad, as usual,
comes out on the top! Who was it got them to give him a lift? Who
managed to get on the front seat for the sake of fresh air? Who
persuaded them into letting him see if he could drive? Who landed them
all in a horse-pond? Who escaped, flying gaily and unscathed through the
air, leaving the narrow-minded, grudging, timid excursionists in the mud
where they should rightly be? Why, Toad, of course; clever Toad, great
Toad, GOOD Toad!’

Then he burst into song again, and chanted with uplifted voice--

’The motor-car went Poop-poop-poop, As it raced along the road. Who was
it steered it into a pond? Ingenious Mr. Toad!

O, how clever I am! How clever, how clever, how very clev----’

A slight noise at a distance behind him made him turn his head and look.
O horror! O misery! O despair!

About two fields off, a chauffeur in his leather gaiters and two large
rural policemen were visible, running towards him as hard as they could
go!

Poor Toad sprang to his feet and pelted away again, his heart in his
mouth. O, my!’ he gasped, as he panted along, ’what an ASS I am! What a
CONCEITED and heedless ass! Swaggering again! Shouting and singing songs
again! Sitting still and gassing again! O my! O my! O my!’

He glanced back, and saw to his dismay that they were gaining on him.
On he ran desperately, but kept looking back, and saw that they still
gained steadily. He did his best, but he was a fat animal, and his legs
were short, and still they gained. He could hear them close behind him
now. Ceasing to heed where he was going, he struggled on blindly and
wildly, looking back over his shoulder at the now triumphant enemy, when
suddenly the earth failed under his feet, he grasped at the air, and,
splash! he found himself head over ears in deep water, rapid water,
water that bore him along with a force he could not contend with; and he
knew that in his blind panic he had run straight into the river!

He rose to the surface and tried to grasp the reeds and the rushes that
grew along the water’s edge close under the bank, but the stream was so
strong that it tore them out of his hands. ’O my!’ gasped poor Toad,
’if ever I steal a motor-car again! If ever I sing another conceited
song’--then down he went, and came up breathless and spluttering.
Presently he saw that he was approaching a big dark hole in the bank,
just above his head, and as the stream bore him past he reached up with
a paw and caught hold of the edge and held on. Then slowly and with
difficulty he drew himself up out of the water, till at last he was able
to rest his elbows on the edge of the hole. There he remained for some
minutes, puffing and panting, for he was quite exhausted.

As he sighed and blew and stared before him into the dark hole, some
bright small thing shone and twinkled in its depths, moving towards
him. As it approached, a face grew up gradually around it, and it was a
familiar face!

Brown and small, with whiskers.

Grave and round, with neat ears and silky hair.

It was the Water Rat!

XI. ’LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS CAME HIS TEARS’

The Rat put out a neat little brown paw, gripped Toad firmly by
the scruff of the neck, and gave a great hoist and a pull; and the
water-logged Toad came up slowly but surely over the edge of the hole,
till at last he stood safe and sound in the hall, streaked with mud and
weed to be sure, and with the water streaming off him, but happy and
high-spirited as of old, now that he found himself once more in the
house of a friend, and dodgings and evasions were over, and he could lay
aside a disguise that was unworthy of his position and wanted such a lot
of living up to.

’O, Ratty!’ he cried. ’I’ve been through such times since I saw you
last, you can’t think! Such trials, such sufferings, and all so nobly
borne! Then such escapes, such disguises such subterfuges, and all so
cleverly planned and carried out! Been in prison--got out of it, of
course! Been thrown into a canal--swam ashore! Stole a horse--sold him
for a large sum of money! Humbugged everybody--made ’em all do exactly
what I wanted! Oh, I AM a smart Toad, and no mistake! What do you think
my last exploit was? Just hold on till I tell you----’

’Toad,’ said the Water Rat, gravely and firmly, ’you go off upstairs
at once, and take off that old cotton rag that looks as if it might
formerly have belonged to some washerwoman, and clean yourself
thoroughly, and put on some of my clothes, and try and come down
looking like a gentleman if you CAN; for a more shabby, bedraggled,
disreputable-looking object than you are I never set eyes on in my whole
life! Now, stop swaggering and arguing, and be off! I’ll have something
to say to you later!’

Toad was at first inclined to stop and do some talking back at him. He
had had enough of being ordered about when he was in prison, and here
was the thing being begun all over again, apparently; and by a Rat,
too! However, he caught sight of himself in the looking-glass over the
hat-stand, with the rusty black bonnet perched rakishly over one eye,
and he changed his mind and went very quickly and humbly upstairs to the
Rat’s dressing-room. There he had a thorough wash and brush-up, changed
his clothes, and stood for a long time before the glass, contemplating
himself with pride and pleasure, and thinking what utter idiots all the
people must have been to have ever mistaken him for one moment for a
washerwoman.

By the time he came down again luncheon was on the table, and very glad
Toad was to see it, for he had been through some trying experiences and
had taken much hard exercise since the excellent breakfast provided for
him by the gipsy. While they ate Toad told the Rat all his adventures,
dwelling chiefly on his own cleverness, and presence of mind in
emergencies, and cunning in tight places; and rather making out that he
had been having a gay and highly-coloured experience. But the more he
talked and boasted, the more grave and silent the Rat became.

When at last Toad had talked himself to a standstill, there was silence
for a while; and then the Rat said, ’Now, Toady, I don’t want to give
you pain, after all you’ve been through already; but, seriously, don’t
you see what an awful ass you’ve been making of yourself? On your
own admission you have been handcuffed, imprisoned, starved, chased,
terrified out of your life, insulted, jeered at, and ignominiously flung
into the water--by a woman, too! Where’s the amusement in that? Where
does the fun come in? And all because you must needs go and steal a
motor-car. You know that you’ve never had anything but trouble from
motor-cars from the moment you first set eyes on one. But if you WILL
be mixed up with them--as you generally are, five minutes after you’ve
started--why STEAL them? Be a cripple, if you think it’s exciting; be a
bankrupt, for a change, if you’ve set your mind on it: but why choose
to be a convict? When are you going to be sensible, and think of your
friends, and try and be a credit to them? Do you suppose it’s any
pleasure to me, for instance, to hear animals saying, as I go about,
that I’m the chap that keeps company with gaol-birds?’

Now, it was a very comforting point in Toad’s character that he was a

thoroughly good-hearted animal and never minded being jawed by those
who were his real friends. And even when most set upon a thing, he was
always able to see the other side of the question. So although, while
the Rat was talking so seriously, he kept saying to himself mutinously,
’But it WAS fun, though! Awful fun!’ and making strange suppressed
noises inside him, k-i-ck-ck-ck, and poop-p-p, and other sounds
resembling stifled snorts, or the opening of soda-water bottles, yet
when the Rat had quite finished, he heaved a deep sigh and said, very
nicely and humbly, ’Quite right, Ratty! How SOUND you always are! Yes,
I’ve been a conceited old ass, I can quite see that; but now I’m going
to be a good Toad, and not do it any more. As for motor-cars, I’ve not
been at all so keen about them since my last ducking in that river of
yours. The fact is, while I was hanging on to the edge of your hole
and getting my breath, I had a sudden idea--a really brilliant
idea--connected with motor-boats--there, there! don’t take on so, old
chap, and stamp, and upset things; it was only an idea, and we won’t
talk any more about it now. We’ll have our coffee, AND a smoke, and a
quiet chat, and then I’m going to stroll quietly down to Toad Hall, and
get into clothes of my own, and set things going again on the old lines.
I’ve had enough of adventures. I shall lead a quiet, steady, respectable
life, pottering about my property, and improving it, and doing a little
landscape gardening at times. There will always be a bit of dinner for
my friends when they come to see me; and I shall keep a pony-chaise to
jog about the country in, just as I used to in the good old days, before
I got restless, and wanted to DO things.’
’Stroll quietly down to Toad Hall?’ cried the Rat, greatly excited.
’What are you talking about? Do you mean to say you haven’t HEARD?’

’Heard what?’ said Toad, turning rather pale. ’Go on, Ratty! Quick!
Don’t spare me! What haven’t I heard?’

’Do you mean to tell me,’ shouted the Rat, thumping with his little
fist upon the table, ’that you’ve heard nothing about the Stoats and
Weasels?’

What, the Wild Wooders?’ cried Toad, trembling in every limb. ’No, not a
word! What have they been doing?’

’--And how they’ve been and taken Toad Hall?’ continued the Rat.

Toad leaned his elbows on the table, and his chin on his paws; and a
large tear welled up in each of his eyes, overflowed and splashed on the
table, plop! plop!

’Go on, Ratty,’ he murmured presently; ’tell me all. The worst is over.
I am an animal again. I can bear it.’

’When you--got--into that--that--trouble of yours,’ said the Rat, slowly

and impressively; ’I mean, when you--disappeared from society for a
time, over that misunderstanding about a--a machine, you know--’

Toad merely nodded.

’Well, it was a good deal talked about down here, naturally,’ continued
the Rat, ’not only along the river-side, but even in the Wild Wood.
Animals took sides, as always happens. The River-bankers stuck up for
you, and said you had been infamously treated, and there was no justice
to be had in the land nowadays. But the Wild Wood animals said hard
things, and served you right, and it was time this sort of thing was
stopped. And they got very cocky, and went about saying you were done
for this time! You would never come back again, never, never!’

Toad nodded once more, keeping silence.

’That’s the sort of little beasts they are,’ the Rat went on. ’But Mole
and Badger, they stuck out, through thick and thin, that you would come
back again soon, somehow. They didn’t know exactly how, but somehow!’

Toad began to sit up in his chair again, and to smirk a little.

’They argued from history,’ continued the Rat. ’They said that
no criminal laws had ever been known to prevail against cheek and
plausibility such as yours, combined with the power of a long purse. So
they arranged to move their things in to Toad Hall, and sleep there, and
keep it aired, and have it all ready for you when you turned up. They
didn’t guess what was going to happen, of course; still, they had their
suspicions of the Wild Wood animals. Now I come to the most painful and
tragic part of my story. One dark night--it was a VERY dark night, and
blowing hard, too, and raining simply cats and dogs--a band of weasels,
armed to the teeth, crept silently up the carriage-drive to the front
entrance. Simultaneously, a body of desperate ferrets, advancing through
the kitchen-garden, possessed themselves of the backyard and offices;
while a company of skirmishing stoats who stuck at nothing occupied the
conservatory and the billiard-room, and held the French windows opening
on to the lawn.
’The Mole and the Badger were sitting by the fire in the smoking-room,
telling stories and suspecting nothing, for it wasn’t a night for any
animals to be out in, when those bloodthirsty villains broke down the
doors and rushed in upon them from every side. They made the best fight
they could, but what was the good? They were unarmed, and taken by
surprise, and what can two animals do against hundreds? They took and
beat them severely with sticks, those two poor faithful creatures,
and turned them out into the cold and the wet, with many insulting and
uncalled-for remarks!’

Here the unfeeling Toad broke into a snigger, and then pulled himself
together and tried to look particularly solemn.

’And the Wild Wooders have been living in Toad Hall ever since,’
continued the Rat; ’and going on simply anyhow! Lying in bed half the
day, and breakfast at all hours, and the place in such a mess (I’m told)
it’s not fit to be seen! Eating your grub, and drinking your drink, and
making bad jokes about you, and singing vulgar songs, about--well, about
prisons and magistrates, and policemen; horrid personal songs, with no
humour in them. And they’re telling the tradespeople and everybody that
they’ve come to stay for good.’

’O, have they!’ said Toad getting up and seizing a stick. ’I’ll jolly
soon see about that!’

’It’s no good, Toad!’ called the Rat after him. ’You’d better come back
and sit down; you’ll only get into trouble.’

But the Toad was off, and there was no holding him. He marched rapidly
down the road, his stick over his shoulder, fuming and muttering to
himself in his anger, till he got near his front gate, when suddenly
there popped up from behind the palings a long yellow ferret with a gun.

’Who comes there?’ said the ferret sharply.

’Stuff and nonsense!’ said Toad, very angrily. ’What do you mean by
talking like that to me? Come out of that at once, or I’ll----’

The ferret said never a word, but he brought his gun up to his shoulder.
Toad prudently dropped flat in the road, and BANG! a bullet whistled
over his head.

The startled Toad scrambled to his feet and scampered off down the road
as hard as he could; and as he ran he heard the ferret laughing and
other horrid thin little laughs taking it up and carrying on the sound.

He went back, very crestfallen, and told the Water Rat.

’What did I tell you?’ said the Rat. ’It’s no good. They’ve got sentries
posted, and they are all armed. You must just wait.’

Still, Toad was not inclined to give in all at once. So he got out the
boat, and set off rowing up the river to where the garden front of Toad
Hall came down to the waterside.

Arriving within sight of his old home, he rested on his oars and
surveyed the land cautiously. All seemed very peaceful and deserted and
quiet. He could see the whole front of Toad Hall, glowing in the evening
sunshine, the pigeons settling by twos and threes along the straight
line of the roof; the garden, a blaze of flowers; the creek that led
up to the boat-house, the little wooden bridge that crossed it; all
tranquil, uninhabited, apparently waiting for his return. He would try
the boat-house first, he thought. Very warily he paddled up to the mouth
of the creek, and was just passing under the bridge, when ... CRASH!

A great stone, dropped from above, smashed through the bottom of the
boat. It filled and sank, and Toad found himself struggling in deep
water. Looking up, he saw two stoats leaning over the parapet of the
bridge and watching him with great glee. ’It will be your head next
time, Toady!’ they called out to him. The indignant Toad swam to shore,
while the stoats laughed and laughed, supporting each other, and laughed
again, till they nearly had two fits--that is, one fit each, of course.

The Toad retraced his weary way on foot, and related his disappointing
experiences to the Water Rat once more.

’Well, WHAT did I tell you?’ said the Rat very crossly. ’And, now, look
here! See what you’ve been and done! Lost me my boat that I was so fond
of, that’s what you’ve done! And simply ruined that nice suit of clothes
that I lent you! Really, Toad, of all the trying animals--I wonder you
manage to keep any friends at all!’

The Toad saw at once how wrongly and foolishly he had acted. He admitted
his errors and wrong-headedness and made a full apology to Rat for
losing his boat and spoiling his clothes. And he wound up by saying,
with that frank self-surrender which always disarmed his friend’s
criticism and won them back to his side, ’Ratty! I see that I have been
a headstrong and a wilful Toad! Henceforth, believe me, I will be humble
and submissive, and will take no action without your kind advice and
full approval!’

’If that is really so,’ said the good-natured Rat, already appeased,
’then my advice to you is, considering the lateness of the hour, to sit
down and have your supper, which will be on the table in a minute, and
be very patient. For I am convinced that we can do nothing until we
have seen the Mole and the Badger, and heard their latest news, and held
conference and taken their advice in this difficult matter.’

’Oh, ah, yes, of course, the Mole and the Badger,’ said Toad, lightly.
’What’s become of them, the dear fellows? I had forgotten all about
them.’

’Well may you ask!’ said the Rat reproachfully. ’While you were riding
about the country in expensive motor-cars, and galloping proudly on
blood-horses, and breakfasting on the fat of the land, those two poor
devoted animals have been camping out in the open, in every sort of
weather, living very rough by day and lying very hard by night; watching
over your house, patrolling your boundaries, keeping a constant eye on
the stoats and the weasels, scheming and planning and contriving how to
get your property back for you. You don’t deserve to have such true and
loyal friends, Toad, you don’t, really. Some day, when it’s too late,
you’ll be sorry you didn’t value them more while you had them!’

’I’m an ungrateful beast, I know,’ sobbed Toad, shedding bitter tears.

’Let me go out and find them, out into the cold, dark night, and share
their hardships, and try and prove by----Hold on a bit! Surely I heard
the chink of dishes on a tray! Supper’s here at last, hooray! Come on,
Ratty!’
The Rat remembered that poor Toad had been on prison fare for a
considerable time, and that large allowances had therefore to be made.
He followed him to the table accordingly, and hospitably encouraged him
in his gallant efforts to make up for past privations.

They had just finished their meal and resumed their arm-chairs, when
there came a heavy knock at the door.

Toad was nervous, but the Rat, nodding mysteriously at him, went
straight up to the door and opened it, and in walked Mr. Badger.

He had all the appearance of one who for some nights had been kept away
from home and all its little comforts and conveniences. His shoes were
covered with mud, and he was looking very rough and touzled; but then
he had never been a very smart man, the Badger, at the best of times. He
came solemnly up to Toad, shook him by the paw, and said, ’Welcome home,
Toad! Alas! what am I saying? Home, indeed! This is a poor home-coming.
Unhappy Toad!’ Then he turned his back on him, sat down to the table,
drew his chair up, and helped himself to a large slice of cold pie.

Toad was quite alarmed at this very serious and portentous style of
greeting; but the Rat whispered to him, ’Never mind; don’t take any
notice; and don’t say anything to him just yet. He’s always rather low
and despondent when he’s wanting his victuals. In half an hour’s time
he’ll be quite a different animal.’

So they waited in silence, and presently there came another and a

lighter knock. The Rat, with a nod to Toad, went to the door and ushered
in the Mole, very shabby and unwashed, with bits of hay and straw
sticking in his fur.

’Hooray! Here’s old Toad!’ cried the Mole, his face beaming. ’Fancy
having you back again!’ And he began to dance round him. ’We never
dreamt you would turn up so soon! Why, you must have managed to escape,
you clever, ingenious, intelligent Toad!’

The Rat, alarmed, pulled him by the elbow; but it was too late. Toad was
puffing and swelling already.

’Clever? O, no!’ he said. ’I’m not really clever, according to my

friends. I’ve only broken out of the strongest prison in England, that’s
all! And captured a railway train and escaped on it, that’s all! And
disguised myself and gone about the country humbugging everybody, that’s
all! O, no! I’m a stupid ass, I am! I’ll tell you one or two of my
little adventures, Mole, and you shall judge for yourself!’

’Well, well,’ said the Mole, moving towards the supper-table; ’supposing
you talk while I eat. Not a bite since breakfast! O my! O my!’ And he
sat down and helped himself liberally to cold beef and pickles.

Toad straddled on the hearth-rug, thrust his paw into his trouser-pocket
and pulled out a handful of silver. ’Look at that!’ he cried, displaying
it. ’That’s not so bad, is it, for a few minutes’ work? And how do you
think I done it, Mole? Horse-dealing! That’s how I done it!’

’Go on, Toad,’ said the Mole, immensely interested.

’Toad, do be quiet, please!’ said the Rat. ’And don’t you egg him on,
Mole, when you know what he is; but please tell us as soon as possible
what the position is, and what’s best to be done, now that Toad is back
at last.’

’The position’s about as bad as it can be,’ replied the Mole grumpily;
’and as for what’s to be done, why, blest if I know! The Badger and I
have been round and round the place, by night and by day; always the
same thing. Sentries posted everywhere, guns poked out at us, stones
thrown at us; always an animal on the look-out, and when they see us,
my! how they do laugh! That’s what annoys me most!’

’It’s a very difficult situation,’ said the Rat, reflecting deeply. ’But
I think I see now, in the depths of my mind, what Toad really ought to
do. I will tell you. He ought to----’

’No, he oughtn’t!’ shouted the Mole, with his mouth full. ’Nothing of
the sort! You don’t understand. What he ought to do is, he ought to----’

’Well, I shan’t do it, anyway!’ cried Toad, getting excited. ’I’m not
going to be ordered about by you fellows! It’s my house we’re talking
about, and I know exactly what to do, and I’ll tell you. I’m going
to----’

By this time they were all three talking at once, at the top of their
voices, and the noise was simply deafening, when a thin, dry voice made
itself heard, saying, ’Be quiet at once, all of you!’ and instantly
every one was silent.

It was the Badger, who, having finished his pie, had turned round in his
chair and was looking at them severely. When he saw that he had secured
their attention, and that they were evidently waiting for him to address
them, he turned back to the table again and reached out for the cheese.
And so great was the respect commanded by the solid qualities of that
admirable animal, that not another word was uttered until he had quite
finished his repast and brushed the crumbs from his knees. The Toad
fidgeted a good deal, but the Rat held him firmly down.

When the Badger had quite done, he got up from his seat and stood before
the fireplace, reflecting deeply. At last he spoke.

’Toad!’ he said severely. ’You bad, troublesome little animal! Aren’t

you ashamed of yourself? What do you think your father, my old friend,
would have said if he had been here to-night, and had known of all your
goings on?’

Toad, who was on the sofa by this time, with his legs up, rolled over on
his face, shaken by sobs of contrition.

’There, there!’ went on the Badger, more kindly. ’Never mind. Stop
crying. We’re going to let bygones be bygones, and try and turn over a
new leaf. But what the Mole says is quite true. The stoats are on guard,
at every point, and they make the best sentinels in the world. It’s
quite useless to think of attacking the place. They’re too strong for
us.’

’Then it’s all over,’ sobbed the Toad, crying into the sofa cushions. ’I
shall go and enlist for a soldier, and never see my dear Toad Hall any
more!’

’Come, cheer up, Toady!’ said the Badger. ’There are more ways of
getting back a place than taking it by storm. I haven’t said my last
word yet. Now I’m going to tell you a great secret.’
Toad sat up slowly and dried his eyes. Secrets had an immense attraction
for him, because he never could keep one, and he enjoyed the sort of
unhallowed thrill he experienced when he went and told another animal,
after having faithfully promised not to.

’There--is--an--underground--passage,’ said the Badger, impressively,

’that leads from the river-bank, quite near here, right up into the
middle of Toad Hall.’

’O, nonsense! Badger,’ said Toad, rather airily. ’You’ve been listening
to some of the yarns they spin in the public-houses about here. I know
every inch of Toad Hall, inside and out. Nothing of the sort, I do
assure you!’

’My young friend,’ said the Badger, with great severity, ’your father,
who was a worthy animal--a lot worthier than some others I know--was
a particular friend of mine, and told me a great deal he wouldn’t have
dreamt of telling you. He discovered that passage--he didn’t make it,
of course; that was done hundreds of years before he ever came to live
there--and he repaired it and cleaned it out, because he thought it
might come in useful some day, in case of trouble or danger; and he
showed it to me. "Don’t let my son know about it," he said. "He’s a good
boy, but very light and volatile in character, and simply cannot hold
his tongue. If he’s ever in a real fix, and it would be of use to him,
you may tell him about the secret passage; but not before."’

The other animals looked hard at Toad to see how he would take it. Toad
was inclined to be sulky at first; but he brightened up immediately,
like the good fellow he was.

’Well, well,’ he said; ’perhaps I am a bit of a talker. A popular fellow

such as I am--my friends get round me--we chaff, we sparkle, we tell
witty stories--and somehow my tongue gets wagging. I have the gift of
conversation. I’ve been told I ought to have a salon, whatever that may
be. Never mind. Go on, Badger. How’s this passage of yours going to help
us?’

’I’ve found out a thing or two lately,’ continued the Badger. ’I got
Otter to disguise himself as a sweep and call at the back-door with
brushes over his shoulder, asking for a job. There’s going to be a big
banquet to-morrow night. It’s somebody’s birthday--the Chief Weasel’s,
I believe--and all the weasels will be gathered together in the
dining-hall, eating and drinking and laughing and carrying on,
suspecting nothing. No guns, no swords, no sticks, no arms of any sort
whatever!’

’But the sentinels will be posted as usual,’ remarked the Rat.

’Exactly,’ said the Badger; ’that is my point. The weasels will trust
entirely to their excellent sentinels. And that is where the passage
comes in. That very useful tunnel leads right up under the butler’s
pantry, next to the dining-hall!’

’Aha! that squeaky board in the butler’s pantry!’ said Toad. ’Now I
understand it!’

’We shall creep out quietly into the butler’s pantry--’ cried the Mole.

’--with our pistols and swords and sticks--’ shouted the Rat.
’--and rush in upon them,’ said the Badger.

’--and whack ’em, and whack ’em, and whack ’em!’ cried the Toad in
ecstasy, running round and round the room, and jumping over the chairs.

’Very well, then,’ said the Badger, resuming his usual dry manner, ’our
plan is settled, and there’s nothing more for you to argue and squabble
about. So, as it’s getting very late, all of you go right off to bed at
once. We will make all the necessary arrangements in the course of the
morning to-morrow.’

Toad, of course, went off to bed dutifully with the rest--he knew better
than to refuse--though he was feeling much too excited to sleep. But
he had had a long day, with many events crowded into it; and sheets and
blankets were very friendly and comforting things, after plain straw,
and not too much of it, spread on the stone floor of a draughty cell;
and his head had not been many seconds on his pillow before he was
snoring happily. Naturally, he dreamt a good deal; about roads that ran
away from him just when he wanted them, and canals that chased him and
caught him, and a barge that sailed into the banqueting-hall with his
week’s washing, just as he was giving a dinner-party; and he was alone
in the secret passage, pushing onwards, but it twisted and turned round
and shook itself, and sat up on its end; yet somehow, at the last,
he found himself back in Toad Hall, safe and triumphant, with all his
friends gathered round about him, earnestly assuring him that he really
was a clever Toad.

He slept till a late hour next morning, and by the time he got down
he found that the other animals had finished their breakfast some time
before. The Mole had slipped off somewhere by himself, without telling
any one where he was going to. The Badger sat in the arm-chair, reading
the paper, and not concerning himself in the slightest about what was
going to happen that very evening. The Rat, on the other hand, was
running round the room busily, with his arms full of weapons of every
kind, distributing them in four little heaps on the floor, and saying
excitedly under his breath, as he ran, ’Here’s-a-sword-for-the-Rat,
here’s-a-sword-for-the Mole, here’s-a-sword-for-the-Toad,
here’s-a-sword-for-the-Badger! Here’s-a-pistol-for-the-Rat,
here’s-a-pistol-for-the-Mole, here’s-a-pistol-for-the-Toad,
here’s-a-pistol-for-the-Badger!’ And so on, in a regular, rhythmical
way, while the four little heaps gradually grew and grew.

’That’s all very well, Rat,’ said the Badger presently, looking at the
busy little animal over the edge of his newspaper; ’I’m not blaming you.
But just let us once get past the stoats, with those detestable guns of
theirs, and I assure you we shan’t want any swords or pistols. We four,
with our sticks, once we’re inside the dining-hall, why, we shall clear
the floor of all the lot of them in five minutes. I’d have done the
whole thing by myself, only I didn’t want to deprive you fellows of the
fun!’

’It’s as well to be on the safe side,’ said the Rat reflectively,

polishing a pistol-barrel on his sleeve and looking along it.

The Toad, having finished his breakfast, picked up a stout stick and
swung it vigorously, belabouring imaginary animals. ’I’ll learn ’em to
steal my house!’ he cried. ’I’ll learn ’em, I’ll learn ’em!’

’Don’t say "learn ’em," Toad,’ said the Rat, greatly shocked. ’It’s not
good English.’

’What are you always nagging at Toad for?’ inquired the Badger, rather
peevishly. ’What’s the matter with his English? It’s the same what I use
myself, and if it’s good enough for me, it ought to be good enough for
you!’

’I’m very sorry,’ said the Rat humbly. ’Only I THINK it ought to be
"teach ’em," not "learn ’em."’

’But we don’t WANT to teach ’em,’ replied the Badger. ’We want to LEARN
’em--learn ’em, learn ’em! And what’s more, we’re going to DO it, too!’

’Oh, very well, have it your own way,’ said the Rat. He was getting
rather muddled about it himself, and presently he retired into a corner,
where he could be heard muttering, ’Learn ’em, teach ’em, teach ’em,
learn ’em!’ till the Badger told him rather sharply to leave off.

Presently the Mole came tumbling into the room, evidently very pleased
with himself. ’I’ve been having such fun!’ he began at once; ’I’ve been
getting a rise out of the stoats!’

’I hope you’ve been very careful, Mole?’ said the Rat anxiously.

’I should hope so, too,’ said the Mole confidently. ’I got the idea when
I went into the kitchen, to see about Toad’s breakfast being kept
hot for him. I found that old washerwoman-dress that he came home in
yesterday, hanging on a towel-horse before the fire. So I put it on, and
the bonnet as well, and the shawl, and off I went to Toad Hall, as bold
as you please. The sentries were on the look-out, of course, with their
guns and their "Who comes there?" and all the rest of their nonsense.
"Good morning, gentlemen!" says I, very respectful. "Want any washing
done to-day?"

’They looked at me very proud and stiff and haughty, and said, "Go away,
washerwoman! We don’t do any washing on duty." "Or any other time?" says
I. Ho, ho, ho! Wasn’t I FUNNY, Toad?’

’Poor, frivolous animal!’ said Toad, very loftily. The fact is, he felt
exceedingly jealous of Mole for what he had just done. It was exactly
what he would have liked to have done himself, if only he had thought of
it first, and hadn’t gone and overslept himself.

’Some of the stoats turned quite pink,’ continued the Mole, ’and the
Sergeant in charge, he said to me, very short, he said, "Now run away,
my good woman, run away! Don’t keep my men idling and talking on their
posts." "Run away?" says I; "it won’t be me that’ll be running away, in
a very short time from now!"’

’O MOLY, how could you?’ said the Rat, dismayed.

The Badger laid down his paper.

’I could see them pricking up their ears and looking at each other,’
went on the Mole; ’and the Sergeant said to them, "Never mind HER; she
doesn’t know what she’s talking about."’

’"O! don’t I?"’ said I. ’"Well, let me tell you this. My daughter, she
washes for Mr. Badger, and that’ll show you whether I know what I’m
talking about; and YOU’LL know pretty soon, too! A hundred bloodthirsty
badgers, armed with rifles, are going to attack Toad Hall this very
night, by way of the paddock. Six boatloads of Rats, with pistols and
cutlasses, will come up the river and effect a landing in the
garden; while a picked body of Toads, known at the Die-hards, or the
Death-or-Glory Toads, will storm the orchard and carry everything before
them, yelling for vengeance. There won’t be much left of you to wash, by
the time they’ve done with you, unless you clear out while you have
the chance!" Then I ran away, and when I was out of sight I hid; and
presently I came creeping back along the ditch and took a peep at them
through the hedge. They were all as nervous and flustered as could be,
running all ways at once, and falling over each other, and every one
giving orders to everybody else and not listening; and the Sergeant kept
sending off parties of stoats to distant parts of the grounds, and then
sending other fellows to fetch ’em back again; and I heard them
saying to each other, "That’s just like the weasels; they’re to stop
comfortably in the banqueting-hall, and have feasting and toasts and
songs and all sorts of fun, while we must stay on guard in the cold and
the dark, and in the end be cut to pieces by bloodthirsty Badgers!’"

’Oh, you silly ass, Mole!’ cried Toad, ’You’ve been and spoilt
everything!’

’Mole,’ said the Badger, in his dry, quiet way, ’I perceive you have
more sense in your little finger than some other animals have in the
whole of their fat bodies. You have managed excellently, and I begin to
have great hopes of you. Good Mole! Clever Mole!’

The Toad was simply wild with jealousy, more especially as he couldn’t
make out for the life of him what the Mole had done that was so
particularly clever; but, fortunately for him, before he could show
temper or expose himself to the Badger’s sarcasm, the bell rang for
luncheon.

It was a simple but sustaining meal--bacon and broad beans, and a

macaroni pudding; and when they had quite done, the Badger settled
himself into an arm-chair, and said, ’Well, we’ve got our work cut out
for us to-night, and it will probably be pretty late before we’re quite
through with it; so I’m just going to take forty winks, while I can.’
And he drew a handkerchief over his face and was soon snoring.

The anxious and laborious Rat at once resumed his preparations,

and started running between his four little heaps, muttering,
’Here’s-a-belt-for-the-Rat, here’s-a-belt-for-the Mole,
here’s-a-belt-for-the-Toad, here’s-a-belt-for-the-Badger!’ and so on,
with every fresh accoutrement he produced, to which there seemed really
no end; so the Mole drew his arm through Toad’s, led him out into the
open air, shoved him into a wicker chair, and made him tell him all his
adventures from beginning to end, which Toad was only too willing to
do. The Mole was a good listener, and Toad, with no one to check his
statements or to criticise in an unfriendly spirit, rather let himself
go. Indeed, much that he related belonged more properly to the category
of what-might-have-happened-had-I-only-thought-of-it-in-time-instead-of
ten-minutes-afterwards. Those are always the best and the raciest
adventures; and why should they not be truly ours, as much as the
somewhat inadequate things that really come off?

XII. THE RETURN OF ULYSSES

When it began to grow dark, the Rat, with an air of excitement and
mystery, summoned them back into the parlour, stood each of them up
alongside of his little heap, and proceeded to dress them up for the
coming expedition. He was very earnest and thoroughgoing about it, and
the affair took quite a long time. First, there was a belt to go round
each animal, and then a sword to be stuck into each belt, and then
a cutlass on the other side to balance it. Then a pair of pistols, a
policeman’s truncheon, several sets of handcuffs, some bandages and
sticking-plaster, and a flask and a sandwich-case. The Badger laughed
good-humouredly and said, ’All right, Ratty! It amuses you and it
doesn’t hurt me. I’m going to do all I’ve got to do with this here
stick.’ But the Rat only said, ’PLEASE, Badger. You know I shouldn’t
like you to blame me afterwards and say I had forgotten ANYTHING!’

When all was quite ready, the Badger took a dark lantern in one paw,
grasped his great stick with the other, and said, ’Now then, follow me!
Mole first, ’cos I’m very pleased with him; Rat next; Toad last. And
look here, Toady! Don’t you chatter so much as usual, or you’ll be sent
back, as sure as fate!’

The Toad was so anxious not to be left out that he took up the inferior
position assigned to him without a murmur, and the animals set off. The
Badger led them along by the river for a little way, and then suddenly
swung himself over the edge into a hole in the river-bank, a little
above the water. The Mole and the Rat followed silently, swinging
themselves successfully into the hole as they had seen the Badger do;
but when it came to Toad’s turn, of course he managed to slip and fall
into the water with a loud splash and a squeal of alarm. He was hauled
out by his friends, rubbed down and wrung out hastily, comforted, and
set on his legs; but the Badger was seriously angry, and told him that
the very next time he made a fool of himself he would most certainly be
left behind.

So at last they were in the secret passage, and the cutting-out

expedition had really begun!

It was cold, and dark, and damp, and low, and narrow, and poor Toad
began to shiver, partly from dread of what might be before him, partly
because he was wet through. The lantern was far ahead, and he could not
help lagging behind a little in the darkness. Then he heard the Rat call
out warningly, ’COME on, Toad!’ and a terror seized him of being left
behind, alone in the darkness, and he ’came on’ with such a rush that
he upset the Rat into the Mole and the Mole into the Badger, and for a
moment all was confusion. The Badger thought they were being attacked
from behind, and, as there was no room to use a stick or a cutlass, drew
a pistol, and was on the point of putting a bullet into Toad. When he
found out what had really happened he was very angry indeed, and said,
’Now this time that tiresome Toad SHALL be left behind!’

But Toad whimpered, and the other two promised that they would be
answerable for his good conduct, and at last the Badger was pacified,
and the procession moved on; only this time the Rat brought up the rear,
with a firm grip on the shoulder of Toad.

So they groped and shuffled along, with their ears pricked up and their
paws on their pistols, till at last the Badger said, ’We ought by now to
be pretty nearly under the Hall.’

Then suddenly they heard, far away as it might be, and yet apparently
nearly over their heads, a confused murmur of sound, as if people were
shouting and cheering and stamping on the floor and hammering on tables.
The Toad’s nervous terrors all returned, but the Badger only remarked
placidly, ’They ARE going it, the Weasels!’

The passage now began to slope upwards; they groped onward a little
further, and then the noise broke out again, quite distinct this time,
and very close above them. ’Ooo-ray-ooray-oo-ray-ooray!’ they heard, and
the stamping of little feet on the floor, and the clinking of glasses
as little fists pounded on the table. ’WHAT a time they’re having!’ said
the Badger. ’Come on!’ They hurried along the passage till it came to a
full stop, and they found themselves standing under the trap-door that
led up into the butler’s pantry.

Such a tremendous noise was going on in the banqueting-hall that there

was little danger of their being overheard. The Badger said, ’Now, boys,
all together!’ and the four of them put their shoulders to the trap-door
and heaved it back. Hoisting each other up, they found themselves
standing in the pantry, with only a door between them and the
banqueting-hall, where their unconscious enemies were carousing.

The noise, as they emerged from the passage, was simply deafening. At
last, as the cheering and hammering slowly subsided, a voice could
be made out saying, ’Well, I do not propose to detain you much
longer’--(great applause)--’but before I resume my seat’--(renewed
cheering)--’I should like to say one word about our kind host, Mr. Toad.
We all know Toad!’--(great laughter)--’GOOD Toad, MODEST Toad, HONEST
Toad!’ (shrieks of merriment).

’Only just let me get at him!’ muttered Toad, grinding his teeth.

’Hold hard a minute!’ said the Badger, restraining him with difficulty.
’Get ready, all of you!’

’--Let me sing you a little song,’ went on the voice, ’which I have
composed on the subject of Toad’--(prolonged applause).

Then the Chief Weasel--for it was he--began in a high, squeaky voice--

’Toad he went a-pleasuring Gaily down the street--’

The Badger drew himself up, took a firm grip of his stick with both
paws, glanced round at his comrades, and cried--

’The hour is come! Follow me!’

And flung the door open wide.

My!

What a squealing and a squeaking and a screeching filled the air!

Well might the terrified weasels dive under the tables and spring madly
up at the windows! Well might the ferrets rush wildly for the fireplace
and get hopelessly jammed in the chimney! Well might tables and chairs
be upset, and glass and china be sent crashing on the floor, in the
panic of that terrible moment when the four Heroes strode wrathfully
into the room! The mighty Badger, his whiskers bristling, his great
cudgel whistling through the air; Mole, black and grim, brandishing his
stick and shouting his awful war-cry, ’A Mole! A Mole!’ Rat; desperate
and determined, his belt bulging with weapons of every age and every
variety; Toad, frenzied with excitement and injured pride, swollen to
twice his ordinary size, leaping into the air and emitting Toad-whoops
that chilled them to the marrow! ’Toad he went a-pleasuring!’ he yelled.
’I’LL pleasure ’em!’ and he went straight for the Chief Weasel. They
were but four in all, but to the panic-stricken weasels the hall seemed
full of monstrous animals, grey, black, brown and yellow, whooping and
flourishing enormous cudgels; and they broke and fled with squeals
of terror and dismay, this way and that, through the windows, up the
chimney, anywhere to get out of reach of those terrible sticks.

The affair was soon over. Up and down, the whole length of the hall,
strode the four Friends, whacking with their sticks at every head that
showed itself; and in five minutes the room was cleared. Through the
broken windows the shrieks of terrified weasels escaping across the lawn
were borne faintly to their ears; on the floor lay prostrate some dozen
or so of the enemy, on whom the Mole was busily engaged in fitting
handcuffs. The Badger, resting from his labours, leant on his stick and
wiped his honest brow.

’Mole,’ he said,’ ’you’re the best of fellows! Just cut along outside
and look after those stoat-sentries of yours, and see what they’re
doing. I’ve an idea that, thanks to you, we shan’t have much trouble
from them to-night!’

The Mole vanished promptly through a window; and the Badger bade the
other two set a table on its legs again, pick up knives and forks and
plates and glasses from the debris on the floor, and see if they could
find materials for a supper. ’I want some grub, I do,’ he said, in that
rather common way he had of speaking. ’Stir your stumps, Toad, and look
lively! We’ve got your house back for you, and you don’t offer us so
much as a sandwich.’ Toad felt rather hurt that the Badger didn’t say
pleasant things to him, as he had to the Mole, and tell him what a
fine fellow he was, and how splendidly he had fought; for he was rather
particularly pleased with himself and the way he had gone for the Chief
Weasel and sent him flying across the table with one blow of his stick.
But he bustled about, and so did the Rat, and soon they found some guava
jelly in a glass dish, and a cold chicken, a tongue that had hardly
been touched, some trifle, and quite a lot of lobster salad; and in the
pantry they came upon a basketful of French rolls and any quantity of
cheese, butter, and celery. They were just about to sit down when the
Mole clambered in through the window, chuckling, with an armful of
rifles.

’It’s all over,’ he reported. ’From what I can make out, as soon as the
stoats, who were very nervous and jumpy already, heard the shrieks and
the yells and the uproar inside the hall, some of them threw down their
rifles and fled. The others stood fast for a bit, but when the weasels
came rushing out upon them they thought they were betrayed; and the
stoats grappled with the weasels, and the weasels fought to get away,
and they wrestled and wriggled and punched each other, and rolled
over and over, till most of ’em rolled into the river! They’ve all
disappeared by now, one way or another; and I’ve got their rifles. So
that’s all right!’

’Excellent and deserving animal!’ said the Badger, his mouth full of
chicken and trifle. ’Now, there’s just one more thing I want you to do,
Mole, before you sit down to your supper along of us; and I wouldn’t
trouble you only I know I can trust you to see a thing done, and I wish
I could say the same of every one I know. I’d send Rat, if he wasn’t a
poet. I want you to take those fellows on the floor there upstairs with
you, and have some bedrooms cleaned out and tidied up and made really
comfortable. See that they sweep UNDER the beds, and put clean sheets
and pillow-cases on, and turn down one corner of the bed-clothes, just
as you know it ought to be done; and have a can of hot water, and clean
towels, and fresh cakes of soap, put in each room. And then you can give
them a licking a-piece, if it’s any satisfaction to you, and put them
out by the back-door, and we shan’t see any more of THEM, I fancy. And
then come along and have some of this cold tongue. It’s first rate. I’m
very pleased with you, Mole!’

The goodnatured Mole picked up a stick, formed his prisoners up in a

line on the floor, gave them the order ’Quick march!’ and led his squad
off to the upper floor. After a time, he appeared again, smiling, and
said that every room was ready, and as clean as a new pin. ’And I didn’t
have to lick them, either,’ he added. ’I thought, on the whole, they had
had licking enough for one night, and the weasels, when I put the point
to them, quite agreed with me, and said they wouldn’t think of troubling
me. They were very penitent, and said they were extremely sorry for
what they had done, but it was all the fault of the Chief Weasel and the
stoats, and if ever they could do anything for us at any time to make
up, we had only got to mention it. So I gave them a roll a-piece, and
let them out at the back, and off they ran, as hard as they could!’

Then the Mole pulled his chair up to the table, and pitched into the
cold tongue; and Toad, like the gentleman he was, put all his jealousy
from him, and said heartily, ’Thank you kindly, dear Mole, for all
your pains and trouble tonight, and especially for your cleverness this
morning!’ The Badger was pleased at that, and said, ’There spoke my
brave Toad!’ So they finished their supper in great joy and contentment,
and presently retired to rest between clean sheets, safe in Toad’s
ancestral home, won back by matchless valour, consummate strategy, and a
proper handling of sticks.

The following morning, Toad, who had overslept himself as usual, came
down to breakfast disgracefully late, and found on the table a certain
quantity of egg-shells, some fragments of cold and leathery toast, a
coffee-pot three-fourths empty, and really very little else; which did
not tend to improve his temper, considering that, after all, it was his
own house. Through the French windows of the breakfast-room he could
see the Mole and the Water Rat sitting in wicker-chairs out on the lawn,
evidently telling each other stories; roaring with laughter and kicking
their short legs up in the air. The Badger, who was in an arm-chair and
deep in the morning paper, merely looked up and nodded when Toad entered
the room. But Toad knew his man, so he sat down and made the best
breakfast he could, merely observing to himself that he would get square
with the others sooner or later. When he had nearly finished, the Badger
looked up and remarked rather shortly: ’I’m sorry, Toad, but I’m afraid
there’s a heavy morning’s work in front of you. You see, we really ought
to have a Banquet at once, to celebrate this affair. It’s expected of
you--in fact, it’s the rule.’

’O, all right!’ said the Toad, readily. ’Anything to oblige. Though
why on earth you should want to have a Banquet in the morning I cannot
understand. But you know I do not live to please myself, but merely to
find out what my friends want, and then try and arrange it for ’em, you
dear old Badger!’

’Don’t pretend to be stupider than you really are,’ replied the Badger,
crossly; ’and don’t chuckle and splutter in your coffee while you’re
talking; it’s not manners. What I mean is, the Banquet will be at night,
of course, but the invitations will have to be written and got off at
once, and you’ve got to write ’em. Now, sit down at that table--there’s
stacks of letter-paper on it, with "Toad Hall" at the top in blue and
gold--and write invitations to all our friends, and if you stick to it
we shall get them out before luncheon. And I’LL bear a hand, too; and
take my share of the burden. I’LL order the Banquet.’

’What!’ cried Toad, dismayed. ’Me stop indoors and write a lot of
rotten letters on a jolly morning like this, when I want to go around my
property, and set everything and everybody to rights, and swagger about
and enjoy myself! Certainly not! I’ll be--I’ll see you----Stop a minute,
though! Why, of course, dear Badger! What is my pleasure or convenience
compared with that of others! You wish it done, and it shall be done.
Go, Badger, order the Banquet, order what you like; then join our young
friends outside in their innocent mirth, oblivious of me and my cares
and toils. I sacrifice this fair morning on the altar of duty and
friendship!’

The Badger looked at him very suspiciously, but Toad’s frank, open
countenance made it difficult to suggest any unworthy motive in this
change of attitude. He quitted the room, accordingly, in the direction
of the kitchen, and as soon as the door had closed behind him, Toad
hurried to the writing-table. A fine idea had occurred to him while he
was talking. He WOULD write the invitations; and he would take care to
mention the leading part he had taken in the fight, and how he had laid
the Chief Weasel flat; and he would hint at his adventures, and what a
career of triumph he had to tell about; and on the fly-leaf he would set
out a sort of a programme of entertainment for the evening--something
like this, as he sketched it out in his head:--

SPEECH. . . . BY TOAD.

(There will be other speeches by TOAD during the evening.)

ADDRESS. . . BY TOAD

SYNOPSIS--Our Prison System--the Waterways of Old

England--Horse-dealing, and how to deal--Property, its rights and its
duties--Back to the Land--A Typical English Squire.

SONG. . . . BY TOAD. (Composed by himself.) OTHER COMPOSITIONS. BY TOAD

will be sung in the course of the evening by the. . . COMPOSER.

The idea pleased him mightily, and he worked very hard and got all the
letters finished by noon, at which hour it was reported to him that
there was a small and rather bedraggled weasel at the door, inquiring
timidly whether he could be of any service to the gentlemen. Toad
swaggered out and found it was one of the prisoners of the previous
evening, very respectful and anxious to please. He patted him on the
head, shoved the bundle of invitations into his paw, and told him to
cut along quick and deliver them as fast as he could, and if he liked
to come back again in the evening, perhaps there might be a shilling
for him, or, again, perhaps there mightn’t; and the poor weasel seemed
really quite grateful, and hurried off eagerly to do his mission.

When the other animals came back to luncheon, very boisterous and
breezy after a morning on the river, the Mole, whose conscience had been
pricking him, looked doubtfully at Toad, expecting to find him sulky or
depressed. Instead, he was so uppish and inflated that the Mole began
to suspect something; while the Rat and the Badger exchanged significant
glances.

As soon as the meal was over, Toad thrust his paws deep into his
trouser-pockets, remarked casually, ’Well, look after yourselves, you
fellows! Ask for anything you want!’ and was swaggering off in the
direction of the garden, where he wanted to think out an idea or two for
his coming speeches, when the Rat caught him by the arm.

Toad rather suspected what he was after, and did his best to get away;
but when the Badger took him firmly by the other arm he began to see
that the game was up. The two animals conducted him between them into
the small smoking-room that opened out of the entrance-hall, shut the
door, and put him into a chair. Then they both stood in front of
him, while Toad sat silent and regarded them with much suspicion and
ill-humour.

’Now, look here, Toad,’ said the Rat. ’It’s about this Banquet, and
very sorry I am to have to speak to you like this. But we want you to
understand clearly, once and for all, that there are going to be no
speeches and no songs. Try and grasp the fact that on this occasion
we’re not arguing with you; we’re just telling you.’

Toad saw that he was trapped. They understood him, they saw through him,
they had got ahead of him. His pleasant dream was shattered.

’Mayn’t I sing them just one LITTLE song?’ he pleaded piteously.

’No, not ONE little song,’ replied the Rat firmly, though his heart bled
as he noticed the trembling lip of the poor disappointed Toad. ’It’s no
good, Toady; you know well that your songs are all conceit and boasting
and vanity; and your speeches are all self-praise and--and--well, and
gross exaggeration and--and----’

’And gas,’ put in the Badger, in his common way.

’It’s for your own good, Toady,’ went on the Rat. ’You know you MUST
turn over a new leaf sooner or later, and now seems a splendid time to
begin; a sort of turning-point in your career. Please don’t think that
saying all this doesn’t hurt me more than it hurts you.’

Toad remained a long while plunged in thought. At last he raised his

head, and the traces of strong emotion were visible on his features.
’You have conquered, my friends,’ he said in broken accents. ’It was,
to be sure, but a small thing that I asked--merely leave to blossom
and expand for yet one more evening, to let myself go and hear the
tumultuous applause that always seems to me--somehow--to bring out my
best qualities. However, you are right, I know, and I am wrong. Hence
forth I will be a very different Toad. My friends, you shall never have
occasion to blush for me again. But, O dear, O dear, this is a hard
world!’

And, pressing his handkerchief to his face, he left the room, with
faltering footsteps.

’Badger,’ said the Rat, ’_I_ feel like a brute; I wonder what YOU feel
like?’
’O, I know, I know,’ said the Badger gloomily. ’But the thing had to be
done. This good fellow has got to live here, and hold his own, and be
respected. Would you have him a common laughing-stock, mocked and jeered
at by stoats and weasels?’

’Of course not,’ said the Rat. ’And, talking of weasels, it’s lucky we
came upon that little weasel, just as he was setting out with Toad’s
invitations. I suspected something from what you told me, and had a look
at one or two; they were simply disgraceful. I confiscated the lot,
and the good Mole is now sitting in the blue boudoir, filling up plain,
simple invitation cards.’

* * * * *

At last the hour for the banquet began to draw near, and Toad, who on
leaving the others had retired to his bedroom, was still sitting there,
melancholy and thoughtful. His brow resting on his paw, he pondered long
and deeply. Gradually his countenance cleared, and he began to smile
long, slow smiles. Then he took to giggling in a shy, self-conscious
manner. At last he got up, locked the door, drew the curtains across
the windows, collected all the chairs in the room and arranged them in a
semicircle, and took up his position in front of them, swelling visibly.
Then he bowed, coughed twice, and, letting himself go, with uplifted
voice he sang, to the enraptured audience that his imagination so
clearly saw.

TOAD’S LAST LITTLE SONG!

The Toad--came--home! There was panic in the parlours and bowling in the
halls, There was crying in the cow-sheds and shrieking in the stalls,
When the Toad--came--home!

When the Toad--came--home! There was smashing in of window and crashing

in of door, There was chivvying of weasels that fainted on the floor,
When the Toad--came--home!

Bang! go the drums! The trumpeters are tooting and the soldiers are
saluting, And the cannon they are shooting and the motor-cars are
hooting, As the--Hero--comes!

Shout--Hoo-ray! And let each one of the crowd try and shout it very
loud, In honour of an animal of whom you’re justly proud, For it’s
Toad’s--great--day!

He sang this very loud, with great unction and expression; and when he
had done, he sang it all over again.

Then he heaved a deep sigh; a long, long, long sigh.

Then he dipped his hairbrush in the water-jug, parted his hair in the
middle, and plastered it down very straight and sleek on each side of
his face; and, unlocking the door, went quietly down the stairs to greet
his guests, who he knew must be assembling in the drawing-room.

All the animals cheered when he entered, and crowded round to

congratulate him and say nice things about his courage, and his
cleverness, and his fighting qualities; but Toad only smiled faintly,
and murmured, ’Not at all!’ Or, sometimes, for a change, ’On the
contrary!’ Otter, who was standing on the hearthrug, describing to an
admiring circle of friends exactly how he would have managed things had
he been there, came forward with a shout, threw his arm round Toad’s
neck, and tried to take him round the room in triumphal progress; but
Toad, in a mild way, was rather snubby to him, remarking gently, as he
disengaged himself, ’Badger’s was the mastermind; the Mole and the Water
Rat bore the brunt of the fighting; I merely served in the ranks and did
little or nothing.’ The animals were evidently puzzled and taken aback
by this unexpected attitude of his; and Toad felt, as he moved from one
guest to the other, making his modest responses, that he was an object
of absorbing interest to every one.

The Badger had ordered everything of the best, and the banquet was a
great success. There was much talking and laughter and chaff among the
animals, but through it all Toad, who of course was in the chair, looked
down his nose and murmured pleasant nothings to the animals on either
side of him. At intervals he stole a glance at the Badger and the Rat,
and always when he looked they were staring at each other with their
mouths open; and this gave him the greatest satisfaction. Some of the
younger and livelier animals, as the evening wore on, got whispering
to each other that things were not so amusing as they used to be in the
good old days; and there were some knockings on the table and cries of
’Toad! Speech! Speech from Toad! Song! Mr. Toad’s song!’ But Toad only
shook his head gently, raised one paw in mild protest, and, by pressing
delicacies on his guests, by topical small-talk, and by earnest
inquiries after members of their families not yet old enough to appear
at social functions, managed to convey to them that this dinner was
being run on strictly conventional lines.

He was indeed an altered Toad!

* * * * *

After this climax, the four animals continued to lead their lives,
so rudely broken in upon by civil war, in great joy and contentment,
undisturbed by further risings or invasions. Toad, after due
consultation with his friends, selected a handsome gold chain and locket
set with pearls, which he dispatched to the gaoler’s daughter with
a letter that even the Badger admitted to be modest, grateful, and
appreciative; and the engine-driver, in his turn, was properly thanked
and compensated for all his pains and trouble. Under severe compulsion
from the Badger, even the barge-woman was, with some trouble, sought
out and the value of her horse discreetly made good to her; though Toad
kicked terribly at this, holding himself to be an instrument of Fate,
sent to punish fat women with mottled arms who couldn’t tell a real
gentleman when they saw one. The amount involved, it was true, was not
very burdensome, the gipsy’s valuation being admitted by local assessors
to be approximately correct.

Sometimes, in the course of long summer evenings, the friends would take
a stroll together in the Wild Wood, now successfully tamed so far as
they were concerned; and it was pleasing to see how respectfully they
were greeted by the inhabitants, and how the mother-weasels would bring
their young ones to the mouths of their holes, and say, pointing, ’Look,
baby! There goes the great Mr. Toad! And that’s the gallant Water Rat, a
terrible fighter, walking along o’ him! And yonder comes the famous Mr.
Mole, of whom you so often have heard your father tell!’ But when their
infants were fractious and quite beyond control, they would quiet them
by telling how, if they didn’t hush them and not fret them, the terrible
grey Badger would up and get them. This was a base libel on Badger, who,
though he cared little about Society, was rather fond of children; but
it never failed to have its full effect.

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