The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame
III. THE WILD WOOD
The Mole had long wanted to make the acquaintance of the Badger. Heseemed, by all accounts, to be such an important personage and, thoughrarely visible, to make his unseen influence felt by everybody aboutthe place. But whenever the Mole mentioned his wish to the Water Rathe 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 thenI'll introduce you. The best of fellows! But you must not only take himAS 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, andinvitations, 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 venturedto 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 inthe very middle of the Wild Wood.'
'Well, supposing he does,' said the Mole. 'You told me the Wild Wood wasall right, you know.'
'O, I know, I know, so it is,' replied the Rat evasively. 'But I thinkwe won't go there just now. Not JUST yet. It's a long way, and hewouldn't be at home at this time of year anyhow, and he'll be comingalong 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 waslong over, and cold and frost and miry ways kept them much indoors, andthe swollen river raced past outside their windows with a speed thatmocked at boating of any sort or kind, that he found his thoughtsdwelling again with much persistence on the solitary grey Badger, wholived his own life by himself, in his hole in the middle of the WildWood.
In the winter time the Rat slept a great deal, retiring early and risinglate. During his short day he sometimes scribbled poetry or did othersmall domestic jobs about the house; and, of course, there were alwaysanimals dropping in for a chat, and consequently there was a good dealof story-telling and comparing notes on the past summer and all itsdoings.
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 pageantof the river bank had marched steadily along, unfolding itself inscene-pictures that succeeded each other in stately procession. Purpleloosestrife arrived early, shaking luxuriant tangled locks along theedge 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 itsplace in the line; and at last one morning the diffident and delayingdog-rose stepped delicately on the stage, and one knew, as ifstring-music had announced it in stately chords that strayed into agavotte, that June at last was here. One member of the company was stillawaited; the shepherd-boy for the nymphs to woo, the knight for whom theladies waited at the window, the prince that was to kiss the sleepingsummer back to life and love. But when meadow-sweet, debonair andodorous 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 holeswhile wind and rain were battering at their doors, recalled stillkeen mornings, an hour before sunrise, when the white mist, as yetundispersed, clung closely along the surface of the water; then theshock of the early plunge, the scamper along the bank, and the radianttransformation of earth, air, and water, when suddenly the sun was withthem again, and grey was gold and colour was born and sprang out of theearth once more. They recalled the languorous siesta of hot mid-day,deep in green undergrowth, the sun striking through in tiny goldenshafts and spots; the boating and bathing of the afternoon, the ramblesalong dusty lanes and through yellow cornfields; and the long, coolevening at last, when so many threads were gathered up, so manyfriendships rounded, and so many adventures planned for the morrow.There was plenty to talk about on those short winter days when theanimals found themselves round the fire; still, the Mole had a good dealof spare time on his hands, and so one afternoon, when the Rat in hisarm-chair before the blaze was alternately dozing and trying over rhymesthat wouldn't fit, he formed the resolution to go out by himself andexplore 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 heslipped out of the warm parlour into the open air. The country lay bareand entirely leafless around him, and he thought that he had never seenso far and so intimately into the insides of things as on that winterday when Nature was deep in her annual slumber and seemed to have kickedthe clothes off. Copses, dells, quarries and all hidden places, whichhad been mysterious mines for exploration in leafy summer, now exposedthemselves and their secrets pathetically, and seemed to ask him tooverlook their shabby poverty for a while, till they could riot in richmasquerade as before, and trick and entice him with the old deceptions.It was pitiful in a way, and yet cheering--even exhilarating. He wasglad that he liked the country undecorated, hard, and stripped of itsfinery. He had got down to the bare bones of it, and they were fineand strong and simple. He did not want the warm clover and the play ofseeding grasses; the screens of quickset, the billowy drapery of beechand elm seemed best away; and with great cheerfulness of spirithe pushed on towards the Wild Wood, which lay before him low andthreatening, like a black reef in some still southern sea.
There was nothing to alarm him at first entry. Twigs crackled under hisfeet, logs tripped him, funguses on stumps resembled caricatures, andstartled him for the moment by their likeness to something familiarand far away; but that was all fun, and exciting. It led him on, and hepenetrated to where the light was less, and trees crouched nearer andnearer, 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 bedraining away like flood-water.
Then the faces began.
It was over his shoulder, and indistinctly, that he first thought he sawa 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 imaginingthings, or there would be simply no end to it. He passed another hole,and another, and another; and then--yes!--no!--yes! certainly a littlenarrow 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 strodeon. 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 itsface, coming and going rapidly, all fixing on him glances of malice andhatred: 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 theuntrodden places of the wood.
Then the whistling began.
Very faint and shrill it was, and far behind him, when first he heardit; but somehow it made him hurry forward. Then, still very faint andshrill, it sounded far ahead of him, and made him hesitate and want togo back. As he halted in indecision it broke out on either side, andseemed to be caught up and passed on throughout the whole length of thewood 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 anyhelp; and the night was closing in.
Then the pattering began.
He thought it was only falling leaves at first, so slight and delicatewas the sound of it. Then as it grew it took a regular rhythm, and heknew it for nothing else but the pat-pat-pat of little feet still a verylong way off. Was it in front or behind? It seemed to be first one, andthen the other, then both. It grew and it multiplied, till from everyquarter as he listened anxiously, leaning this way and that, it seemedto be closing in on him. As he stood still to hearken, a rabbit camerunning hard towards him through the trees. He waited, expecting it toslacken 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 heardhim mutter as he swung round a stump and disappeared down a friendlyburrow.
The pattering increased till it sounded like sudden hail on the dryleaf-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 ranup against things, he fell over things and into things, he darted underthings and dodged round things. At last he took refuge in the deep darkhollow of an old beech tree, which offered shelter, concealment--perhapseven safety, but who could tell? Anyhow, he was too tired to run anyfurther, and could only snuggle down into the dry leaves which haddrifted into the hollow and hope he was safe for a time. And as he laythere panting and trembling, and listened to the whistlings and thepatterings outside, he knew it at last, in all its fullness, that dreadthing which other little dwellers in field and hedgerow had encounteredhere, and known as their darkest moment--that thing which the Rat hadvainly tried to shield him from--the Terror of the Wild Wood!
Meantime the Rat, warm and comfortable, dozed by his fireside. His paperof half-finished verses slipped from his knee, his head fell back, hismouth opened, and he wandered by the verdant banks of dream-rivers. Thena coal slipped, the fire crackled and sent up a spurt of flame, and hewoke with a start. Remembering what he had been engaged upon, he reacheddown to the floor for his verses, pored over them for a minute, andthen looked round for the Mole to ask him if he knew a good rhyme forsomething 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 upand went out into the hall.
The Mole's cap was missing from its accustomed peg. His goloshes, whichalways lay by the umbrella-stand, were also gone.
The Rat left the house, and carefully examined the muddy surface of theground outside, hoping to find the Mole's tracks. There they were,sure enough. The goloshes were new, just bought for the winter, and thepimples on their soles were fresh and sharp. He could see the imprintsof them in the mud, running along straight and purposeful, leadingdirect to the Wild Wood.
The Rat looked very grave, and stood in deep thought for a minute ortwo. 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 ina 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 oftrees and plunged without hesitation into the wood, looking anxiouslyon either side for any sign of his friend. Here and there wicked littlefaces popped out of holes, but vanished immediately at sight of thevalorous animal, his pistols, and the great ugly cudgel in his grasp;and the whistling and pattering, which he had heard quite plainly on hisfirst entry, died away and ceased, and all was very still. He made hisway manfully through the length of the wood, to its furthest edge; then,forsaking all paths, he set himself to traverse it, laboriously workingover 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 atlast to his joy he heard a little answering cry. Guiding himself by thesound, he made his way through the gathering darkness to the foot ofan old beech tree, with a hole in it, and from out of the hole came afeeble voice, saying 'Ratty! Is that really you?'
The Rat crept into the hollow, and there he found the Mole, exhaustedand still trembling. 'O Rat!' he cried, 'I've been so frightened, youcan't think!'
'O, I quite understand,' said the Rat soothingly. 'You shouldn't reallyhave gone and done it, Mole. I did my best to keep you from it. Weriver-bankers, we hardly ever come here by ourselves. If we have tocome, we come in couples, at least; then we're generally all right.Besides, there are a hundred things one has to know, which we understandall about and you don't, as yet. I mean passwords, and signs, andsayings which have power and effect, and plants you carry in yourpocket, and verses you repeat, and dodges and tricks you practise; allsimple enough when you know them, but they've got to be known if you'resmall, or you'll find yourself in trouble. Of course if you were Badgeror Otter, it would be quite another matter.'
'Surely the brave Mr. Toad wouldn't mind coming here by himself, wouldhe?' inquired the Mole.
'Old Toad?' said the Rat, laughing heartily. 'He wouldn't show his facehere alone, not for a whole hatful of golden guineas, Toad wouldn't.'
The Mole was greatly cheered by the sound of the Rat's carelesslaughter, as well as by the sight of his stick and his gleaming pistols,and he stopped shivering and began to feel bolder and more himselfagain.
'Now then,' said the Rat presently, 'we really must pull ourselvestogether and make a start for home while there's still a little lightleft. It will never do to spend the night here, you understand. Toocold, for one thing.'
'Dear Ratty,' said the poor Mole, 'I'm dreadfully sorry, but I'm simplydead beat and that's a solid fact. You MUST let me rest here a whilelonger, 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 prettynearly pitch dark now, anyhow; and there ought to be a bit of a moonlater.'
So the Mole got well into the dry leaves and stretched himself out, andpresently dropped off into sleep, though of a broken and troubled sort;while the Rat covered himself up, too, as best he might, for warmth, andlay 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 ifeverything's quiet, and then we really must be off.'
He went to the entrance of their retreat and put his head out. Thenthe 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 snowinghard.'
The Mole came and crouched beside him, and, looking out, saw the woodthat had been so dreadful to him in quite a changed aspect. Holes,hollows, pools, pitfalls, and other black menaces to the wayfarerwere vanishing fast, and a gleaming carpet of faery was springing upeverywhere, 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 itstouch, and the black boles of the trees showed up in a light that seemedto come from below.
'Well, well, it can't be helped,' said the Rat, after pondering. 'Wemust make a start, and take our chance, I suppose. The worst of it is, Idon't exactly know where we are. And now this snow makes everything lookso very different.'
It did indeed. The Mole would not have known that it was the samewood. However, they set out bravely, and took the line that seemedmost promising, holding on to each other and pretending with invinciblecheerfulness that they recognized an old friend in every fresh tree thatgrimly and silently greeted them, or saw openings, gaps, or paths witha familiar turn in them, in the monotony of white space and blacktree-trunks that refused to vary.
An hour or two later--they had lost all count of time--they pulledup, dispirited, weary, and hopelessly at sea, and sat down on a fallentree-trunk to recover their breath and consider what was to be done.They were aching with fatigue and bruised with tumbles; they had falleninto several holes and got wet through; the snow was getting so deepthat they could hardly drag their little legs through it, and the treeswere thicker and more like each other than ever. There seemed to be noend to this wood, and no beginning, and no difference in it, and, worstof all, no way out.
'We can't sit here very long,' said the Rat. 'We shall have to makeanother push for it, and do something or other. The cold is tooawful for anything, and the snow will soon be too deep for us to wadethrough.' 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 ofus, where the ground seems all hilly and humpy and hummocky. We'll makeour way down into that, and try and find some sort of shelter, a caveor hole with a dry floor to it, out of the snow and the wind, and therewe'll have a good rest before we try again, for we're both of us prettydead 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 anda protection from the keen wind and the whirling snow. They wereinvestigating one of the hummocky bits the Rat had spoken of, whensuddenly 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 andnursed 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 lookat the leg. Yes,' he went on, going down on his knees to look, 'you'vecut your shin, sure enough. Wait till I get at my handkerchief, and I'lltie it up for you.'
'I must have tripped over a hidden branch or a stump,' said the Molemiserably. '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 madeby a sharp edge of something in metal. Funny!' He pondered awhile, andexamined the humps and slopes that surrounded them.
'Well, never mind what done it,' said the Mole, forgetting his grammarin his pain. 'It hurts just the same, whatever done it.'
But the Rat, after carefully tying up the leg with his handkerchief, hadleft him and was busy scraping in the snow. He scratched and shovelledand explored, all four legs working busily, while the Mole waitedimpatiently, 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 samesort of thing before, lots of times. Familiar object, I call it. Adoor-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?' criedthe Rat impatiently.
'Of course I see what it means,' replied the Mole. 'It simply means thatsome VERY careless and forgetful person has left his door-scraper lyingabout in the middle of the Wild Wood, JUST where it's SURE to tripEVERYBODY up. Very thoughtless of him, I call it. When I get homeI shall go and complain about it to--to somebody or other, see if Idon'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 thesnow fly in all directions around him.
After some further toil his efforts were rewarded, and a very shabbydoor-mat lay exposed to view.
'There, what did I tell you?' exclaimed the Rat in great triumph.
'Absolutely nothing whatever,' replied the Mole, with perfecttruthfulness. 'Well now,' he went on, 'you seem to have found anotherpiece of domestic litter, done for and thrown away, and I suppose you'reperfectly happy. Better go ahead and dance your jig round that if you'vegot to, and get it over, and then perhaps we can go on and not wasteany more time over rubbish-heaps. Can we EAT a doormat? or sleep under adoor-mat? Or sit on a door-mat and sledge home over the snow on it, youexasperating rodent?'
'Do--you--mean--to--say,' cried the excited Rat, 'that this door-matdoesn't TELL you anything?'
'Really, Rat,' said the Mole, quite pettishly, 'I think we'd had enoughof 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 knowtheir place.'
'Now look here, you--you thick-headed beast,' replied the Rat, reallyangry, 'this must stop. Not another word, but scrape--scrape and scratchand dig and hunt round, especially on the sides of the hummocks, if youwant to sleep dry and warm to-night, for it's our last chance!'
The Rat attacked a snow-bank beside them with ardour, probing withhis cudgel everywhere and then digging with fury; and the Mole scrapedbusily too, more to oblige the Rat than for any other reason, for hisopinion was that his friend was getting light-headed.
Some ten minutes' hard work, and the point of the Rat's cudgel strucksomething that sounded hollow. He worked till he could get a paw throughand feel; then called the Mole to come and help him. Hard at it went thetwo animals, till at last the result of their labours stood full in viewof the astonished and hitherto incredulous Mole.
In the side of what had seemed to be a snow-bank stood a solid-lookinglittle 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 capitalletters, 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'swhat you are. I see it all now! You argued it out, step by step, in thatwise 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 toitself, ”Door-scraper!” And then you turned to and found the verydoor-scraper that done it! Did you stop there? No. Some people wouldhave 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 theoryis proved!” And of course you found your door-mat. You're so clever, Ibelieve you could find anything you liked. ”Now,” says you, ”that doorexists, as plain as if I saw it. There's nothing else remains to be donebut to find it!” Well, I've read about that sort of thing in books, butI've never come across it before in real life. You ought to go whereyou'll be properly appreciated. You're simply wasted here, among usfellows. If I only had your head, Ratty----'
'But as you haven't,' interrupted the Rat, rather unkindly, 'I supposeyou're going to sit on the snow all night and TALK? Get up at once andhang on to that bell-pull you see there, and ring hard, as hard as youcan, while I hammer!'
While the Rat attacked the door with his stick, the Mole sprang upat the bell-pull, clutched it and swung there, both feet well offthe ground, and from quite a long way off they could faintly hear adeep-toned bell respond.
The Mole had long wanted to make the acquaintance of the Badger. Heseemed, by all accounts, to be such an important personage and, thoughrarely visible, to make his unseen influence felt by everybody aboutthe place. But whenever the Mole mentioned his wish to the Water Rathe 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 thenI'll introduce you. The best of fellows! But you must not only take himAS 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, andinvitations, 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 venturedto 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 inthe very middle of the Wild Wood.'
'Well, supposing he does,' said the Mole. 'You told me the Wild Wood wasall right, you know.'
'O, I know, I know, so it is,' replied the Rat evasively. 'But I thinkwe won't go there just now. Not JUST yet. It's a long way, and hewouldn't be at home at this time of year anyhow, and he'll be comingalong 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 waslong over, and cold and frost and miry ways kept them much indoors, andthe swollen river raced past outside their windows with a speed thatmocked at boating of any sort or kind, that he found his thoughtsdwelling again with much persistence on the solitary grey Badger, wholived his own life by himself, in his hole in the middle of the WildWood.
In the winter time the Rat slept a great deal, retiring early and risinglate. During his short day he sometimes scribbled poetry or did othersmall domestic jobs about the house; and, of course, there were alwaysanimals dropping in for a chat, and consequently there was a good dealof story-telling and comparing notes on the past summer and all itsdoings.
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 pageantof the river bank had marched steadily along, unfolding itself inscene-pictures that succeeded each other in stately procession. Purpleloosestrife arrived early, shaking luxuriant tangled locks along theedge 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 itsplace in the line; and at last one morning the diffident and delayingdog-rose stepped delicately on the stage, and one knew, as ifstring-music had announced it in stately chords that strayed into agavotte, that June at last was here. One member of the company was stillawaited; the shepherd-boy for the nymphs to woo, the knight for whom theladies waited at the window, the prince that was to kiss the sleepingsummer back to life and love. But when meadow-sweet, debonair andodorous 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 holeswhile wind and rain were battering at their doors, recalled stillkeen mornings, an hour before sunrise, when the white mist, as yetundispersed, clung closely along the surface of the water; then theshock of the early plunge, the scamper along the bank, and the radianttransformation of earth, air, and water, when suddenly the sun was withthem again, and grey was gold and colour was born and sprang out of theearth once more. They recalled the languorous siesta of hot mid-day,deep in green undergrowth, the sun striking through in tiny goldenshafts and spots; the boating and bathing of the afternoon, the ramblesalong dusty lanes and through yellow cornfields; and the long, coolevening at last, when so many threads were gathered up, so manyfriendships rounded, and so many adventures planned for the morrow.There was plenty to talk about on those short winter days when theanimals found themselves round the fire; still, the Mole had a good dealof spare time on his hands, and so one afternoon, when the Rat in hisarm-chair before the blaze was alternately dozing and trying over rhymesthat wouldn't fit, he formed the resolution to go out by himself andexplore 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 heslipped out of the warm parlour into the open air. The country lay bareand entirely leafless around him, and he thought that he had never seenso far and so intimately into the insides of things as on that winterday when Nature was deep in her annual slumber and seemed to have kickedthe clothes off. Copses, dells, quarries and all hidden places, whichhad been mysterious mines for exploration in leafy summer, now exposedthemselves and their secrets pathetically, and seemed to ask him tooverlook their shabby poverty for a while, till they could riot in richmasquerade as before, and trick and entice him with the old deceptions.It was pitiful in a way, and yet cheering--even exhilarating. He wasglad that he liked the country undecorated, hard, and stripped of itsfinery. He had got down to the bare bones of it, and they were fineand strong and simple. He did not want the warm clover and the play ofseeding grasses; the screens of quickset, the billowy drapery of beechand elm seemed best away; and with great cheerfulness of spirithe pushed on towards the Wild Wood, which lay before him low andthreatening, like a black reef in some still southern sea.
There was nothing to alarm him at first entry. Twigs crackled under hisfeet, logs tripped him, funguses on stumps resembled caricatures, andstartled him for the moment by their likeness to something familiarand far away; but that was all fun, and exciting. It led him on, and hepenetrated to where the light was less, and trees crouched nearer andnearer, 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 bedraining away like flood-water.
Then the faces began.
It was over his shoulder, and indistinctly, that he first thought he sawa 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 imaginingthings, or there would be simply no end to it. He passed another hole,and another, and another; and then--yes!--no!--yes! certainly a littlenarrow 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 strodeon. 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 itsface, coming and going rapidly, all fixing on him glances of malice andhatred: 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 theuntrodden places of the wood.
Then the whistling began.
Very faint and shrill it was, and far behind him, when first he heardit; but somehow it made him hurry forward. Then, still very faint andshrill, it sounded far ahead of him, and made him hesitate and want togo back. As he halted in indecision it broke out on either side, andseemed to be caught up and passed on throughout the whole length of thewood 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 anyhelp; and the night was closing in.
Then the pattering began.
He thought it was only falling leaves at first, so slight and delicatewas the sound of it. Then as it grew it took a regular rhythm, and heknew it for nothing else but the pat-pat-pat of little feet still a verylong way off. Was it in front or behind? It seemed to be first one, andthen the other, then both. It grew and it multiplied, till from everyquarter as he listened anxiously, leaning this way and that, it seemedto be closing in on him. As he stood still to hearken, a rabbit camerunning hard towards him through the trees. He waited, expecting it toslacken 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 heardhim mutter as he swung round a stump and disappeared down a friendlyburrow.
The pattering increased till it sounded like sudden hail on the dryleaf-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 ranup against things, he fell over things and into things, he darted underthings and dodged round things. At last he took refuge in the deep darkhollow of an old beech tree, which offered shelter, concealment--perhapseven safety, but who could tell? Anyhow, he was too tired to run anyfurther, and could only snuggle down into the dry leaves which haddrifted into the hollow and hope he was safe for a time. And as he laythere panting and trembling, and listened to the whistlings and thepatterings outside, he knew it at last, in all its fullness, that dreadthing which other little dwellers in field and hedgerow had encounteredhere, and known as their darkest moment--that thing which the Rat hadvainly tried to shield him from--the Terror of the Wild Wood!
Meantime the Rat, warm and comfortable, dozed by his fireside. His paperof half-finished verses slipped from his knee, his head fell back, hismouth opened, and he wandered by the verdant banks of dream-rivers. Thena coal slipped, the fire crackled and sent up a spurt of flame, and hewoke with a start. Remembering what he had been engaged upon, he reacheddown to the floor for his verses, pored over them for a minute, andthen looked round for the Mole to ask him if he knew a good rhyme forsomething 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 upand went out into the hall.
The Mole's cap was missing from its accustomed peg. His goloshes, whichalways lay by the umbrella-stand, were also gone.
The Rat left the house, and carefully examined the muddy surface of theground outside, hoping to find the Mole's tracks. There they were,sure enough. The goloshes were new, just bought for the winter, and thepimples on their soles were fresh and sharp. He could see the imprintsof them in the mud, running along straight and purposeful, leadingdirect to the Wild Wood.
The Rat looked very grave, and stood in deep thought for a minute ortwo. 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 ina 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 oftrees and plunged without hesitation into the wood, looking anxiouslyon either side for any sign of his friend. Here and there wicked littlefaces popped out of holes, but vanished immediately at sight of thevalorous animal, his pistols, and the great ugly cudgel in his grasp;and the whistling and pattering, which he had heard quite plainly on hisfirst entry, died away and ceased, and all was very still. He made hisway manfully through the length of the wood, to its furthest edge; then,forsaking all paths, he set himself to traverse it, laboriously workingover 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 atlast to his joy he heard a little answering cry. Guiding himself by thesound, he made his way through the gathering darkness to the foot ofan old beech tree, with a hole in it, and from out of the hole came afeeble voice, saying 'Ratty! Is that really you?'
The Rat crept into the hollow, and there he found the Mole, exhaustedand still trembling. 'O Rat!' he cried, 'I've been so frightened, youcan't think!'
'O, I quite understand,' said the Rat soothingly. 'You shouldn't reallyhave gone and done it, Mole. I did my best to keep you from it. Weriver-bankers, we hardly ever come here by ourselves. If we have tocome, we come in couples, at least; then we're generally all right.Besides, there are a hundred things one has to know, which we understandall about and you don't, as yet. I mean passwords, and signs, andsayings which have power and effect, and plants you carry in yourpocket, and verses you repeat, and dodges and tricks you practise; allsimple enough when you know them, but they've got to be known if you'resmall, or you'll find yourself in trouble. Of course if you were Badgeror Otter, it would be quite another matter.'
'Surely the brave Mr. Toad wouldn't mind coming here by himself, wouldhe?' inquired the Mole.
'Old Toad?' said the Rat, laughing heartily. 'He wouldn't show his facehere alone, not for a whole hatful of golden guineas, Toad wouldn't.'
The Mole was greatly cheered by the sound of the Rat's carelesslaughter, as well as by the sight of his stick and his gleaming pistols,and he stopped shivering and began to feel bolder and more himselfagain.
'Now then,' said the Rat presently, 'we really must pull ourselvestogether and make a start for home while there's still a little lightleft. It will never do to spend the night here, you understand. Toocold, for one thing.'
'Dear Ratty,' said the poor Mole, 'I'm dreadfully sorry, but I'm simplydead beat and that's a solid fact. You MUST let me rest here a whilelonger, 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 prettynearly pitch dark now, anyhow; and there ought to be a bit of a moonlater.'
So the Mole got well into the dry leaves and stretched himself out, andpresently dropped off into sleep, though of a broken and troubled sort;while the Rat covered himself up, too, as best he might, for warmth, andlay 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 ifeverything's quiet, and then we really must be off.'
He went to the entrance of their retreat and put his head out. Thenthe 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 snowinghard.'
The Mole came and crouched beside him, and, looking out, saw the woodthat had been so dreadful to him in quite a changed aspect. Holes,hollows, pools, pitfalls, and other black menaces to the wayfarerwere vanishing fast, and a gleaming carpet of faery was springing upeverywhere, 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 itstouch, and the black boles of the trees showed up in a light that seemedto come from below.
'Well, well, it can't be helped,' said the Rat, after pondering. 'Wemust make a start, and take our chance, I suppose. The worst of it is, Idon't exactly know where we are. And now this snow makes everything lookso very different.'
It did indeed. The Mole would not have known that it was the samewood. However, they set out bravely, and took the line that seemedmost promising, holding on to each other and pretending with invinciblecheerfulness that they recognized an old friend in every fresh tree thatgrimly and silently greeted them, or saw openings, gaps, or paths witha familiar turn in them, in the monotony of white space and blacktree-trunks that refused to vary.
An hour or two later--they had lost all count of time--they pulledup, dispirited, weary, and hopelessly at sea, and sat down on a fallentree-trunk to recover their breath and consider what was to be done.They were aching with fatigue and bruised with tumbles; they had falleninto several holes and got wet through; the snow was getting so deepthat they could hardly drag their little legs through it, and the treeswere thicker and more like each other than ever. There seemed to be noend to this wood, and no beginning, and no difference in it, and, worstof all, no way out.
'We can't sit here very long,' said the Rat. 'We shall have to makeanother push for it, and do something or other. The cold is tooawful for anything, and the snow will soon be too deep for us to wadethrough.' 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 ofus, where the ground seems all hilly and humpy and hummocky. We'll makeour way down into that, and try and find some sort of shelter, a caveor hole with a dry floor to it, out of the snow and the wind, and therewe'll have a good rest before we try again, for we're both of us prettydead 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 anda protection from the keen wind and the whirling snow. They wereinvestigating one of the hummocky bits the Rat had spoken of, whensuddenly 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 andnursed 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 lookat the leg. Yes,' he went on, going down on his knees to look, 'you'vecut your shin, sure enough. Wait till I get at my handkerchief, and I'lltie it up for you.'
'I must have tripped over a hidden branch or a stump,' said the Molemiserably. '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 madeby a sharp edge of something in metal. Funny!' He pondered awhile, andexamined the humps and slopes that surrounded them.
'Well, never mind what done it,' said the Mole, forgetting his grammarin his pain. 'It hurts just the same, whatever done it.'
But the Rat, after carefully tying up the leg with his handkerchief, hadleft him and was busy scraping in the snow. He scratched and shovelledand explored, all four legs working busily, while the Mole waitedimpatiently, 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 samesort of thing before, lots of times. Familiar object, I call it. Adoor-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?' criedthe Rat impatiently.
'Of course I see what it means,' replied the Mole. 'It simply means thatsome VERY careless and forgetful person has left his door-scraper lyingabout in the middle of the Wild Wood, JUST where it's SURE to tripEVERYBODY up. Very thoughtless of him, I call it. When I get homeI shall go and complain about it to--to somebody or other, see if Idon'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 thesnow fly in all directions around him.
After some further toil his efforts were rewarded, and a very shabbydoor-mat lay exposed to view.
'There, what did I tell you?' exclaimed the Rat in great triumph.
'Absolutely nothing whatever,' replied the Mole, with perfecttruthfulness. 'Well now,' he went on, 'you seem to have found anotherpiece of domestic litter, done for and thrown away, and I suppose you'reperfectly happy. Better go ahead and dance your jig round that if you'vegot to, and get it over, and then perhaps we can go on and not wasteany more time over rubbish-heaps. Can we EAT a doormat? or sleep under adoor-mat? Or sit on a door-mat and sledge home over the snow on it, youexasperating rodent?'
'Do--you--mean--to--say,' cried the excited Rat, 'that this door-matdoesn't TELL you anything?'
'Really, Rat,' said the Mole, quite pettishly, 'I think we'd had enoughof 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 knowtheir place.'
'Now look here, you--you thick-headed beast,' replied the Rat, reallyangry, 'this must stop. Not another word, but scrape--scrape and scratchand dig and hunt round, especially on the sides of the hummocks, if youwant to sleep dry and warm to-night, for it's our last chance!'
The Rat attacked a snow-bank beside them with ardour, probing withhis cudgel everywhere and then digging with fury; and the Mole scrapedbusily too, more to oblige the Rat than for any other reason, for hisopinion was that his friend was getting light-headed.
Some ten minutes' hard work, and the point of the Rat's cudgel strucksomething that sounded hollow. He worked till he could get a paw throughand feel; then called the Mole to come and help him. Hard at it went thetwo animals, till at last the result of their labours stood full in viewof the astonished and hitherto incredulous Mole.
In the side of what had seemed to be a snow-bank stood a solid-lookinglittle 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 capitalletters, 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'swhat you are. I see it all now! You argued it out, step by step, in thatwise 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 toitself, ”Door-scraper!” And then you turned to and found the verydoor-scraper that done it! Did you stop there? No. Some people wouldhave 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 theoryis proved!” And of course you found your door-mat. You're so clever, Ibelieve you could find anything you liked. ”Now,” says you, ”that doorexists, as plain as if I saw it. There's nothing else remains to be donebut to find it!” Well, I've read about that sort of thing in books, butI've never come across it before in real life. You ought to go whereyou'll be properly appreciated. You're simply wasted here, among usfellows. If I only had your head, Ratty----'
'But as you haven't,' interrupted the Rat, rather unkindly, 'I supposeyou're going to sit on the snow all night and TALK? Get up at once andhang on to that bell-pull you see there, and ring hard, as hard as youcan, while I hammer!'
While the Rat attacked the door with his stick, the Mole sprang upat the bell-pull, clutched it and swung there, both feet well offthe ground, and from quite a long way off they could faintly hear adeep-toned bell respond.