The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame
VII. THE PIPER AT THE GATES OF DAWN
The Willow-Wren was twittering his thin little song, hidden himself inthe dark selvedge of the river bank. Though it was past ten o'clockat night, the sky still clung to and retained some lingering skirtsof light from the departed day; and the sullen heats of the torridafternoon broke up and rolled away at the dispersing touch of the coolfingers of the short midsummer night. Mole lay stretched on the bank,still panting from the stress of the fierce day that had been cloudlessfrom dawn to late sunset, and waited for his friend to return. He hadbeen on the river with some companions, leaving the Water Rat free tokeep a engagement of long standing with Otter; and he had come back tofind the house dark and deserted, and no sign of Rat, who was doubtlesskeeping it up late with his old comrade. It was still too hot to thinkof staying indoors, so he lay on some cool dock-leaves, and thought overthe past day and its doings, and how very good they all had been.
The Rat's light footfall was presently heard approaching over theparched grass. 'O, the blessed coolness!' he said, and sat down, gazingthoughtfully 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 meas ever they could, right up to the moment I left. But I felt a bruteall the time, as it was clear to me they were very unhappy, though theytried to hide it. Mole, I'm afraid they're in trouble. Little Portly ismissing again; and you know what a lot his father thinks of him, thoughhe never says much about it.'
'What, that child?' said the Mole lightly. 'Well, suppose he is; whyworry about it? He's always straying off and getting lost, and turningup 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 bringhim back again all right. Why, we've found him ourselves, miles fromhome, and quite self-possessed and cheerful!'
'Yes; but this time it's more serious,' said the Rat gravely. 'He's beenmissing for some days now, and the Otters have hunted everywhere, highand low, without finding the slightest trace. And they've asked everyanimal, 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 thatyoung Portly hasn't learnt to swim very well yet, and I can seehe'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 fascinationfor 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'stime. And now he IS nervous. When I left, he came out with me--said hewanted some air, and talked about stretching his legs. But I could seeit wasn't that, so I drew him out and pumped him, and got it all fromhim at last. He was going to spend the night watching by the ford. Youknow the place where the old ford used to be, in by-gone days beforethey built the bridge?'
'I know it well,' said the Mole. 'But why should Otter choose to watchthere?'
'Well, it seems that it was there he gave Portly his firstswimming-lesson,' continued the Rat. 'From that shallow, gravelly spitnear the bank. And it was there he used to teach him fishing, and thereyoung Portly caught his first fish, of which he was so very proud. Thechild loved the spot, and Otter thinks that if he came wanderingback from wherever he is--if he IS anywhere by this time, poor littlechap--he might make for the ford he was so fond of; or if he came acrossit he'd remember it well, and stop there and play, perhaps. So Ottergoes there every night and watches--on the chance, you know, just on thechance!'
They were silent for a time, both thinking of the same thing--thelonely, 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 thinkingabout 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 bedone. We'll get the boat out, and paddle up stream. The moon will be upin an hour or so, and then we will search as well as we can--anyhow, itwill be better than going to bed and doing NOTHING.'
'Just what I was thinking myself,' said the Rat. 'It's not the sort ofnight for bed anyhow; and daybreak is not so very far off, and then wemay 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 withcaution. Out in midstream, there was a clear, narrow track that faintlyreflected the sky; but wherever shadows fell on the water from bank,bush, or tree, they were as solid to all appearance as the banksthemselves, and the Mole had to steer with judgment accordingly. Darkand deserted as it was, the night was full of small noises, song andchatter and rustling, telling of the busy little population who wereup and about, plying their trades and vocations through the nighttill sunshine should fall on them at last and send them off to theirwell-earned repose. The water's own noises, too, were more apparent thanby day, its gurglings and 'cloops' more unexpected and near at hand;and constantly they started at what seemed a sudden clear call from anactual articulate voice.
The line of the horizon was clear and hard against the sky, and inone particular quarter it showed black against a silvery climbingphosphorescence that grew and grew. At last, over the rim of the waitingearth the moon lifted with slow majesty till it swung clear of thehorizon and rode off, free of moorings; and once more they began to seesurfaces--meadows wide-spread, and quiet gardens, and the river itselffrom bank to bank, all softly disclosed, all washed clean of mysteryand terror, all radiant again as by day, but with a difference that wastremendous. Their old haunts greeted them again in other raiment, as ifthey had slipped away and put on this pure new apparel and come quietlyback, smiling as they shyly waited to see if they would be recognisedagain 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 streamin 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; tillher hour came and she sank earthwards reluctantly, and left them, andmystery once more held field and river.
Then a change began slowly to declare itself. The horizon becameclearer, field and tree came more into sight, and somehow with adifferent look; the mystery began to drop away from them. A bird pipedsuddenly, and was still; and a light breeze sprang up and set the reedsand bulrushes rustling. Rat, who was in the stern of the boat, whileMole sculled, sat up suddenly and listened with a passionate intentness.Mole, who with gentle strokes was just keeping the boat moving while hescanned the banks with care, looked at him with curiosity.
'It's gone!' sighed the Rat, sinking back in his seat again. 'Sobeautiful and strange and new. Since it was to end so soon, I almostwish I had never heard it. For it has roused a longing in me that ispain, and nothing seems worth while but just to hear that sound oncemore and go on listening to it for ever. No! There it is again!' hecried, 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 callof the distant piping! Such music I never dreamed of, and the call init is stronger even than the music is sweet! Row on, Mole, row! For themusic 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 thingthat caught up his helpless soul and swung and dandled it, a powerlessbut happy infant in a strong sustaining grasp.
In silence Mole rowed steadily, and soon they came to a point where theriver divided, a long backwater branching off to one side. With aslight movement of his head Rat, who had long dropped the rudder-lines,directed the rower to take the backwater. The creeping tide of lightgained and gained, and now they could see the colour of the flowers thatgemmed the water's edge.
'Clearer and nearer still,' cried the Rat joyously. 'Now you must surelyhear it! Ah--at last--I see you do!'
Breathless and transfixed the Mole stopped rowing as the liquid run ofthat glad piping broke on him like a wave, caught him up, and possessedhim utterly. He saw the tears on his comrade's cheeks, and bowed hishead and understood. For a space they hung there, brushed by the purpleloose-strife that fringed the bank; then the clear imperious summonsthat marched hand-in-hand with the intoxicating melody imposed its willon Mole, and mechanically he bent to his oars again. And the light grewsteadily stronger, but no birds sang as they were wont to do at theapproach of dawn; and but for the heavenly music all was marvellouslystill.
On either side of them, as they glided onwards, the rich meadow-grassseemed that morning of a freshness and a greenness unsurpassable. Neverhad they noticed the roses so vivid, the willow-herb so riotous,the meadow-sweet so odorous and pervading. Then the murmur of theapproaching weir began to hold the air, and they felt a consciousnessthat they were nearing the end, whatever it might be, that surelyawaited their expedition.
A wide half-circle of foam and glinting lights and shining shouldersof green water, the great weir closed the backwater from bank tobank, troubled all the quiet surface with twirling eddies and floatingfoam-streaks, and deadened all other sounds with its solemn and soothingrumble. In midmost of the stream, embraced in the weir's shimmeringarm-spread, a small island lay anchored, fringed close with willow andsilver birch and alder. Reserved, shy, but full of significance, it hidwhatever it might hold behind a veil, keeping it till the hour shouldcome, and, with the hour, those who were called and chosen.
Slowly, but with no doubt or hesitation whatever, and in something of asolemn expectancy, the two animals passed through the broken tumultuouswater and moored their boat at the flowery margin of the island. Insilence they landed, and pushed through the blossom and scented herbageand undergrowth that led up to the level ground, till they stood ona little lawn of a marvellous green, set round with Nature's ownorchard-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 ifanywhere, surely we shall find Him!'
Then suddenly the Mole felt a great Awe fall upon him, an awe thatturned his muscles to water, bowed his head, and rooted his feet to theground. It was no panic terror--indeed he felt wonderfully at peace andhappy--but it was an awe that smote and held him and, without seeing, heknew 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 hisside cowed, stricken, and trembling violently. And still there was uttersilence in the populous bird-haunted branches around them; and still thelight grew and grew.
Perhaps he would never have dared to raise his eyes, but that, thoughthe piping was now hushed, the call and the summons seemed stilldominant and imperious. He might not refuse, were Death himself waitingto strike him instantly, once he had looked with mortal eye on thingsrightly 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 breathfor the event, he looked in the very eyes of the Friend and Helper;saw the backward sweep of the curved horns, gleaming in the growingdaylight; saw the stern, hooked nose between the kindly eyes that werelooking down on them humourously, while the bearded mouth broke into ahalf-smile at the corners; saw the rippling muscles on the arm that layacross the broad chest, the long supple hand still holding the pan-pipesonly just fallen away from the parted lips; saw the splendid curves ofthe shaggy limbs disposed in majestic ease on the sward; saw, last ofall, nestling between his very hooves, sleeping soundly in entire peaceand contentment, the little, round, podgy, childish form of the babyotter. All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vividon the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as helived, 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 amafraid!'
Then the two animals, crouching to the earth, bowed their heads and didworship.
Sudden and magnificent, the sun's broad golden disc showed itself overthe horizon facing them; and the first rays, shooting across the levelwater-meadows, took the animals full in the eyes and dazzled them. Whenthey were able to look once more, the Vision had vanished, and the airwas full of the carol of birds that hailed the dawn.
As they stared blankly in dumb misery deepening as they slowly realisedall they had seen and all they had lost, a capricious little breeze,dancing up from the surface of the water, tossed the aspens, shook thedewy roses and blew lightly and caressingly in their faces; and with itssoft touch came instant oblivion. For this is the last best giftthat the kindly demi-god is careful to bestow on those to whom he hasrevealed himself in their helping: the gift of forgetfulness. Lestthe awful remembrance should remain and grow, and overshadow mirth andpleasure, and the great haunting memory should spoil all the after-livesof little animals helped out of difficulties, in order that they shouldbe happy and lighthearted as before.
Mole rubbed his eyes and stared at Rat, who was looking about him ina puzzled sort of way. 'I beg your pardon; what did you say, Rat?' heasked.
'I think I was only remarking,' said Rat slowly, 'that this was theright sort of place, and that here, if anywhere, we should find him. Andlook! Why, there he is, the little fellow!' And with a cry of delight heran towards the slumbering Portly.
But Mole stood still a moment, held in thought. As one wakened suddenlyfrom a beautiful dream, who struggles to recall it, and can re-capturenothing 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, coldwaking and all its penalties; so Mole, after struggling with his memoryfor a brief space, shook his head sadly and followed the Rat.
Portly woke up with a joyous squeak, and wriggled with pleasure at thesight of his father's friends, who had played with him so often in pastdays. In a moment, however, his face grew blank, and he fell to huntinground in a circle with pleading whine. As a child that has fallenhappily asleep in its nurse's arms, and wakes to find itself alone andlaid in a strange place, and searches corners and cupboards, and runsfrom room to room, despair growing silently in its heart, even so Portlysearched the island and searched, dogged and unwearying, till at lastthe black moment came for giving it up, and sitting down and cryingbitterly.
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 andthoughtfully; and stood musing, musing; his mind strangely stirred.
'Come along, Rat!' called the Mole. 'Think of poor Otter, waiting upthere by the ford!'
Portly had soon been comforted by the promise of a treat--a jaunt on theriver in Mr. Rat's real boat; and the two animals conducted him to thewater's side, placed him securely between them in the bottom of theboat, and paddled off down the backwater. The sun was fully up by now,and hot on them, birds sang lustily and without restraint, and flowerssmiled and nodded from either bank, but somehow--so thought theanimals--with less of richness and blaze of colour than they seemed toremember 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 lonelyvigil. As they drew near the familiar ford, the Mole took the boat into the bank, and they lifted Portly out and set him on his legs on thetow-path, gave him his marching orders and a friendly farewell pat onthe back, and shoved out into mid-stream. They watched the little animalas he waddled along the path contentedly and with importance; watchedhim till they saw his muzzle suddenly lift and his waddle break into aclumsy amble as he quickened his pace with shrill whines and wriggles ofrecognition. Looking up the river, they could see Otter start up, tenseand 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 theosiers 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 againwhither it would, their quest now happily ended.
'I feel strangely tired, Rat,' said the Mole, leaning wearily over hisoars 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 thistime of the year. No; I feel as if I had been through something veryexciting and rather terrible, and it was just over; and yet nothingparticular has happened.'
'Or something very surprising and splendid and beautiful,' murmured theRat, 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 thestream 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 withwords in it, too--it passes into words and out of them again--I catchthem at intervals--then it is dance-music once more, and then nothingbut the reeds' soft thin whispering.'
'You hear better than I,' said the Mole sadly. 'I cannot catch thewords.'
'Let me try and give you them,' said the Rat softly, his eyes stillclosed. 'Now it is turning into words again--faint but clear--Lest theawe should dwell--And turn your frolic to fret--You shall look on mypower at the helping hour--But then you shall forget! Now the reeds takeit up--forget, forget, they sigh, and it dies away in a rustle and awhisper. Then the voice returns--
'Lest limbs be reddened and rent--I spring the trap that is set--As Iloose 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 growseach minute fainter.
'Helper and healer, I cheer--Small waifs in the woodland wet--Strays Ifind 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 youas they reached me. Ah! now they return again, and this time full andclear! 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 waitedpatiently for a few minutes, half-dozing in the hot sun.
But no answer came. He looked, and understood the silence. With a smileof much happiness on his face, and something of a listening look stilllingering there, the weary Rat was fast asleep.
The Willow-Wren was twittering his thin little song, hidden himself inthe dark selvedge of the river bank. Though it was past ten o'clockat night, the sky still clung to and retained some lingering skirtsof light from the departed day; and the sullen heats of the torridafternoon broke up and rolled away at the dispersing touch of the coolfingers of the short midsummer night. Mole lay stretched on the bank,still panting from the stress of the fierce day that had been cloudlessfrom dawn to late sunset, and waited for his friend to return. He hadbeen on the river with some companions, leaving the Water Rat free tokeep a engagement of long standing with Otter; and he had come back tofind the house dark and deserted, and no sign of Rat, who was doubtlesskeeping it up late with his old comrade. It was still too hot to thinkof staying indoors, so he lay on some cool dock-leaves, and thought overthe past day and its doings, and how very good they all had been.
The Rat's light footfall was presently heard approaching over theparched grass. 'O, the blessed coolness!' he said, and sat down, gazingthoughtfully 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 meas ever they could, right up to the moment I left. But I felt a bruteall the time, as it was clear to me they were very unhappy, though theytried to hide it. Mole, I'm afraid they're in trouble. Little Portly ismissing again; and you know what a lot his father thinks of him, thoughhe never says much about it.'
'What, that child?' said the Mole lightly. 'Well, suppose he is; whyworry about it? He's always straying off and getting lost, and turningup 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 bringhim back again all right. Why, we've found him ourselves, miles fromhome, and quite self-possessed and cheerful!'
'Yes; but this time it's more serious,' said the Rat gravely. 'He's beenmissing for some days now, and the Otters have hunted everywhere, highand low, without finding the slightest trace. And they've asked everyanimal, 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 thatyoung Portly hasn't learnt to swim very well yet, and I can seehe'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 fascinationfor 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'stime. And now he IS nervous. When I left, he came out with me--said hewanted some air, and talked about stretching his legs. But I could seeit wasn't that, so I drew him out and pumped him, and got it all fromhim at last. He was going to spend the night watching by the ford. Youknow the place where the old ford used to be, in by-gone days beforethey built the bridge?'
'I know it well,' said the Mole. 'But why should Otter choose to watchthere?'
'Well, it seems that it was there he gave Portly his firstswimming-lesson,' continued the Rat. 'From that shallow, gravelly spitnear the bank. And it was there he used to teach him fishing, and thereyoung Portly caught his first fish, of which he was so very proud. Thechild loved the spot, and Otter thinks that if he came wanderingback from wherever he is--if he IS anywhere by this time, poor littlechap--he might make for the ford he was so fond of; or if he came acrossit he'd remember it well, and stop there and play, perhaps. So Ottergoes there every night and watches--on the chance, you know, just on thechance!'
They were silent for a time, both thinking of the same thing--thelonely, 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 thinkingabout 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 bedone. We'll get the boat out, and paddle up stream. The moon will be upin an hour or so, and then we will search as well as we can--anyhow, itwill be better than going to bed and doing NOTHING.'
'Just what I was thinking myself,' said the Rat. 'It's not the sort ofnight for bed anyhow; and daybreak is not so very far off, and then wemay 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 withcaution. Out in midstream, there was a clear, narrow track that faintlyreflected the sky; but wherever shadows fell on the water from bank,bush, or tree, they were as solid to all appearance as the banksthemselves, and the Mole had to steer with judgment accordingly. Darkand deserted as it was, the night was full of small noises, song andchatter and rustling, telling of the busy little population who wereup and about, plying their trades and vocations through the nighttill sunshine should fall on them at last and send them off to theirwell-earned repose. The water's own noises, too, were more apparent thanby day, its gurglings and 'cloops' more unexpected and near at hand;and constantly they started at what seemed a sudden clear call from anactual articulate voice.
The line of the horizon was clear and hard against the sky, and inone particular quarter it showed black against a silvery climbingphosphorescence that grew and grew. At last, over the rim of the waitingearth the moon lifted with slow majesty till it swung clear of thehorizon and rode off, free of moorings; and once more they began to seesurfaces--meadows wide-spread, and quiet gardens, and the river itselffrom bank to bank, all softly disclosed, all washed clean of mysteryand terror, all radiant again as by day, but with a difference that wastremendous. Their old haunts greeted them again in other raiment, as ifthey had slipped away and put on this pure new apparel and come quietlyback, smiling as they shyly waited to see if they would be recognisedagain 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 streamin 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; tillher hour came and she sank earthwards reluctantly, and left them, andmystery once more held field and river.
Then a change began slowly to declare itself. The horizon becameclearer, field and tree came more into sight, and somehow with adifferent look; the mystery began to drop away from them. A bird pipedsuddenly, and was still; and a light breeze sprang up and set the reedsand bulrushes rustling. Rat, who was in the stern of the boat, whileMole sculled, sat up suddenly and listened with a passionate intentness.Mole, who with gentle strokes was just keeping the boat moving while hescanned the banks with care, looked at him with curiosity.
'It's gone!' sighed the Rat, sinking back in his seat again. 'Sobeautiful and strange and new. Since it was to end so soon, I almostwish I had never heard it. For it has roused a longing in me that ispain, and nothing seems worth while but just to hear that sound oncemore and go on listening to it for ever. No! There it is again!' hecried, 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 callof the distant piping! Such music I never dreamed of, and the call init is stronger even than the music is sweet! Row on, Mole, row! For themusic 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 thingthat caught up his helpless soul and swung and dandled it, a powerlessbut happy infant in a strong sustaining grasp.
In silence Mole rowed steadily, and soon they came to a point where theriver divided, a long backwater branching off to one side. With aslight movement of his head Rat, who had long dropped the rudder-lines,directed the rower to take the backwater. The creeping tide of lightgained and gained, and now they could see the colour of the flowers thatgemmed the water's edge.
'Clearer and nearer still,' cried the Rat joyously. 'Now you must surelyhear it! Ah--at last--I see you do!'
Breathless and transfixed the Mole stopped rowing as the liquid run ofthat glad piping broke on him like a wave, caught him up, and possessedhim utterly. He saw the tears on his comrade's cheeks, and bowed hishead and understood. For a space they hung there, brushed by the purpleloose-strife that fringed the bank; then the clear imperious summonsthat marched hand-in-hand with the intoxicating melody imposed its willon Mole, and mechanically he bent to his oars again. And the light grewsteadily stronger, but no birds sang as they were wont to do at theapproach of dawn; and but for the heavenly music all was marvellouslystill.
On either side of them, as they glided onwards, the rich meadow-grassseemed that morning of a freshness and a greenness unsurpassable. Neverhad they noticed the roses so vivid, the willow-herb so riotous,the meadow-sweet so odorous and pervading. Then the murmur of theapproaching weir began to hold the air, and they felt a consciousnessthat they were nearing the end, whatever it might be, that surelyawaited their expedition.
A wide half-circle of foam and glinting lights and shining shouldersof green water, the great weir closed the backwater from bank tobank, troubled all the quiet surface with twirling eddies and floatingfoam-streaks, and deadened all other sounds with its solemn and soothingrumble. In midmost of the stream, embraced in the weir's shimmeringarm-spread, a small island lay anchored, fringed close with willow andsilver birch and alder. Reserved, shy, but full of significance, it hidwhatever it might hold behind a veil, keeping it till the hour shouldcome, and, with the hour, those who were called and chosen.
Slowly, but with no doubt or hesitation whatever, and in something of asolemn expectancy, the two animals passed through the broken tumultuouswater and moored their boat at the flowery margin of the island. Insilence they landed, and pushed through the blossom and scented herbageand undergrowth that led up to the level ground, till they stood ona little lawn of a marvellous green, set round with Nature's ownorchard-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 ifanywhere, surely we shall find Him!'
Then suddenly the Mole felt a great Awe fall upon him, an awe thatturned his muscles to water, bowed his head, and rooted his feet to theground. It was no panic terror--indeed he felt wonderfully at peace andhappy--but it was an awe that smote and held him and, without seeing, heknew 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 hisside cowed, stricken, and trembling violently. And still there was uttersilence in the populous bird-haunted branches around them; and still thelight grew and grew.
Perhaps he would never have dared to raise his eyes, but that, thoughthe piping was now hushed, the call and the summons seemed stilldominant and imperious. He might not refuse, were Death himself waitingto strike him instantly, once he had looked with mortal eye on thingsrightly 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 breathfor the event, he looked in the very eyes of the Friend and Helper;saw the backward sweep of the curved horns, gleaming in the growingdaylight; saw the stern, hooked nose between the kindly eyes that werelooking down on them humourously, while the bearded mouth broke into ahalf-smile at the corners; saw the rippling muscles on the arm that layacross the broad chest, the long supple hand still holding the pan-pipesonly just fallen away from the parted lips; saw the splendid curves ofthe shaggy limbs disposed in majestic ease on the sward; saw, last ofall, nestling between his very hooves, sleeping soundly in entire peaceand contentment, the little, round, podgy, childish form of the babyotter. All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vividon the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as helived, 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 amafraid!'
Then the two animals, crouching to the earth, bowed their heads and didworship.
Sudden and magnificent, the sun's broad golden disc showed itself overthe horizon facing them; and the first rays, shooting across the levelwater-meadows, took the animals full in the eyes and dazzled them. Whenthey were able to look once more, the Vision had vanished, and the airwas full of the carol of birds that hailed the dawn.
As they stared blankly in dumb misery deepening as they slowly realisedall they had seen and all they had lost, a capricious little breeze,dancing up from the surface of the water, tossed the aspens, shook thedewy roses and blew lightly and caressingly in their faces; and with itssoft touch came instant oblivion. For this is the last best giftthat the kindly demi-god is careful to bestow on those to whom he hasrevealed himself in their helping: the gift of forgetfulness. Lestthe awful remembrance should remain and grow, and overshadow mirth andpleasure, and the great haunting memory should spoil all the after-livesof little animals helped out of difficulties, in order that they shouldbe happy and lighthearted as before.
Mole rubbed his eyes and stared at Rat, who was looking about him ina puzzled sort of way. 'I beg your pardon; what did you say, Rat?' heasked.
'I think I was only remarking,' said Rat slowly, 'that this was theright sort of place, and that here, if anywhere, we should find him. Andlook! Why, there he is, the little fellow!' And with a cry of delight heran towards the slumbering Portly.
But Mole stood still a moment, held in thought. As one wakened suddenlyfrom a beautiful dream, who struggles to recall it, and can re-capturenothing 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, coldwaking and all its penalties; so Mole, after struggling with his memoryfor a brief space, shook his head sadly and followed the Rat.
Portly woke up with a joyous squeak, and wriggled with pleasure at thesight of his father's friends, who had played with him so often in pastdays. In a moment, however, his face grew blank, and he fell to huntinground in a circle with pleading whine. As a child that has fallenhappily asleep in its nurse's arms, and wakes to find itself alone andlaid in a strange place, and searches corners and cupboards, and runsfrom room to room, despair growing silently in its heart, even so Portlysearched the island and searched, dogged and unwearying, till at lastthe black moment came for giving it up, and sitting down and cryingbitterly.
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 andthoughtfully; and stood musing, musing; his mind strangely stirred.
'Come along, Rat!' called the Mole. 'Think of poor Otter, waiting upthere by the ford!'
Portly had soon been comforted by the promise of a treat--a jaunt on theriver in Mr. Rat's real boat; and the two animals conducted him to thewater's side, placed him securely between them in the bottom of theboat, and paddled off down the backwater. The sun was fully up by now,and hot on them, birds sang lustily and without restraint, and flowerssmiled and nodded from either bank, but somehow--so thought theanimals--with less of richness and blaze of colour than they seemed toremember 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 lonelyvigil. As they drew near the familiar ford, the Mole took the boat into the bank, and they lifted Portly out and set him on his legs on thetow-path, gave him his marching orders and a friendly farewell pat onthe back, and shoved out into mid-stream. They watched the little animalas he waddled along the path contentedly and with importance; watchedhim till they saw his muzzle suddenly lift and his waddle break into aclumsy amble as he quickened his pace with shrill whines and wriggles ofrecognition. Looking up the river, they could see Otter start up, tenseand 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 theosiers 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 againwhither it would, their quest now happily ended.
'I feel strangely tired, Rat,' said the Mole, leaning wearily over hisoars 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 thistime of the year. No; I feel as if I had been through something veryexciting and rather terrible, and it was just over; and yet nothingparticular has happened.'
'Or something very surprising and splendid and beautiful,' murmured theRat, 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 thestream 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 withwords in it, too--it passes into words and out of them again--I catchthem at intervals--then it is dance-music once more, and then nothingbut the reeds' soft thin whispering.'
'You hear better than I,' said the Mole sadly. 'I cannot catch thewords.'
'Let me try and give you them,' said the Rat softly, his eyes stillclosed. 'Now it is turning into words again--faint but clear--Lest theawe should dwell--And turn your frolic to fret--You shall look on mypower at the helping hour--But then you shall forget! Now the reeds takeit up--forget, forget, they sigh, and it dies away in a rustle and awhisper. Then the voice returns--
'Lest limbs be reddened and rent--I spring the trap that is set--As Iloose 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 growseach minute fainter.
'Helper and healer, I cheer--Small waifs in the woodland wet--Strays Ifind 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 youas they reached me. Ah! now they return again, and this time full andclear! 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 waitedpatiently for a few minutes, half-dozing in the hot sun.
But no answer came. He looked, and understood the silence. With a smileof much happiness on his face, and something of a listening look stilllingering there, the weary Rat was fast asleep.