The wind in the willows

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UNIVERSITY

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OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT
FUND GIVEN IN 1891 . BY

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fHE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

OUT ON THE LAWN, ROARING WITH LAUGHTER

THE WIND
IN THE WILLOWS

BY

KENNETH GRAHAME

ILLUSTRATED BY

NANCY BARNHART

NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

>miwm

Copyright. 1908, 1913. Ay
CHABLES SCRIBNER'S SONS*

Printed in the United States of America

All rights reserved. No Part of this book
may be reproduced in any form without
the permission of Charles Scribner's Sons

5i

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. THE RIVER BANK 1

n. THE OPEN ROAD 27

HI. THE "WIIiD WOOD 53

IV. MR. BADGER 79

V. DULCE DOMUM 107

VI. MR. TOAD 139

VH. THE PIPER AT THE GATES OP DAWN . . 167

mi TOAD'S ADVENTURES 191

IX. WAYFARERS ALL 219

X THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OP TOAD. . 253

XI. "LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS CAME HIS

TEARS" 287

Xn. THE RETURN OF ULYSSES 323

ILLUSTRATIONS

Out on the lawn, roaring with laughter

Frontispiece

news Mas

Tired and happy and miles from home . . 42

He sometimes scribbled poetry 58

Where two or three friends of simple tastes

could sit about as they pleased .... 84

The two little white beds looked soft and

inviting 90

"Come along, field-mice," cried the Mole.

"This is quite like old times!" .... 132

Long-drawn sobs from the bosom of Toad 148

Looked in the very eyes of the Friend and

Helper 182

O unhappy and forsaken Toad ! 194

Those were golden days 238

Lost the soap, for the fiftieth time .... 264

The Wild Wooders have been living in Toad

Hall 298

THE RIVER BANK

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 white-
wash 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-clean-
ing!" 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

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

case to the gravelled 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 mutter-
ing 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

4

THE RIVER BANK

instant by the impatient and contemptuous
Mole, who trotted along the side of the hedge
chaffing the other rabbits as they peeped hur-
riedly from their holes to see what the row was
about. "Onion-sauce! Onion-sauce!" he re-
marked 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 bud-
ding, 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

5

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 spellbound 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

6

THE RIVER BANK

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 grad-
ually 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.

7

S'

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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

"Oh, it 's 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 un-
fastened 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:

8

I THE RIVER BANK

^f

"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 noth-
ing — 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 sud-
denly.

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

si

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 toe* from sheer happi-
ness, spread his chest with a sigh of full con-
tentment, and leant back blissfully into the
soft cushions. "What a day I 'm having!" he
said. "Let us start at ottce!"

"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 inter ?al 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.

10

THE RIVER BANK

Then he untied the painter and took the sculls
again.

"What's inside it?" asked the Mole, wrig-
gling with curiosity.

"There 's cold chicken inside it," replied
the Rat briefly: "coldtonguecoldhamcoldbeef
pickledgherkinssaladfrenchrollscresssandwiches
pottedmeatgingerbeerlemonadesodawater — "

"O stop, stop!" cried the Mole in ecstasies.
"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
forbore to disturb him.

"I like your clothes awfully, old chap," he
11

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

remarked after some half an hour or so had
passed. "I 'm going to get a black velvet smok-
ing-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 Febru-
ary, 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

12

THE RIVER BANK

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 peo-
ple are moving away altogether. O no, it
isn't what it used to be, at all. Otters, king-
fishers, dabchicks, moorhens, all of them about
all day long and always wanting you to do some-
thing — 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 wood-
land that darkly framed the water-meadows on
one side of the river.

"That? O, that 's just the Wild Wood," said
13

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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-U," 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," ex-
plained 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 some-
times, 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

14

THE RIVER BANK

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 mur

15

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

mur 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! 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 pack-
ets 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.

16

THE RIVER BANK

"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 chir-
ruped cheerily in an inviting sort of way.

A broad glistening muzzle showed itself above
the edge of the bank, and the Otter hauled him-
self 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

If

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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!" ob-
served 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 punt-
ing. 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

18

THE RIVER BANK

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 sep-
arated 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 '11 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

19

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 rec-
ollected 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 pleas-
ant work as unpacking the basket. It never

20

>

THE RIVER BANK

is. But the Mole was bent on enjoying every-
thing, 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 fin-
ished 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 him-
self, 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.
21

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 tri-
umphant 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

22

THE RIVER BANK

very wet it felt! How it sang in his ears as he
went down, down, down! How bright and wel-
come 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

23

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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

24

THE RIVER BANK

that yet; still, I can make you comfortable.
And I '11 teach you to row and to swim, and
you '11 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 snigger-
ing to each other about his bedraggled appear-
ance.

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 thrill-
ing 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 presum-

25

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

ably by them; and about herons, and how par-
ticular they were whom they spoke to; and
about adventures down drains, and night-fish-
ings 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 con-
tentment, 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 sum-
mer 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.

26

II

THE OPEN ROAD

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, sing-
ing 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 any-
thing 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

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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!

30

THE OPEN ROAD

"I don't know that I think so very much of
that little song, Rat," observed the Mole cau-
tiously. 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 '11 paddle up there at once. It's never the

31

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 comfort-
ably in the stern.

"He is indeed the best of animals," replied
Rat. "So simple, so good-natured, and so affec-
tionate. 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 mel-
lowed 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 boatJiouse, where we '11 leave the boat.
The stables are over there to the right. That 's
the banqueting-hall you 're looking at now —

THE OPEN ROAD

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
shipped 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 aa

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 resi-
dence."

"Finest house on the whole river," cried Toad
boisterously. "Or anywhere else, for that mat-
ter," he could not help adding.

Here the Rat nudged the Mole. Unfortu-
nately 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

34

THE OPEN ROAD

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 aim-
less manner. No, I 've discovered the real thing,
the only genuine occupation for a lifetime. 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 accord-
35

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

ingly, 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 com-
mon, 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.
36

THE OPEN ROAD

Little sleeping bunks — a little table that folded
up against the wall — a cooking- stove, lockers,
book-shelves, 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 domi-
noes — you '11 find," he continued, qte they de-
scended the steps again, "you '11 find that noth-
ing whatever 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

37

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 to me and do as I do,
aren't you, Mole?"

" Of course I am," said the Mole, loyally. " I '11
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

38

THE OPEN ROAD

almost anything to oblige him. Toad was watch-
ing 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. Disregard-
ing 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 road-
side 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

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

deep in schemes and anticipations, planning out
each day's separate occupation for several weeks
ahead. )

When they were quite ready, the now trium-
phant 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
nose-bags, 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

40

THE OPEN ROAD

beautiful cart; and rabbits, sitting at their front
doors in the hedgerows, held up their fore-paws,
and said, "O my! O my! 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 sit-
ting 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 parties
ular, 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 fel-
lows! 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

41

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

gave it a squeeze. "I '11 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 '11 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 morn-
ing. 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, for-
gotten to provide. The hard work had all been
done, and the two animals were resting, thor-
oughly exhausted, by the time Toad appeared

42

TIBBD AND HAPPY AND MILES FROM HOME

THE OPEN ROAD

'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 dis-
aster, fleet and unforeseen, sprang out on them
— disaster momentous indeed to their expedi-
tion, 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

43

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

being frightfully left out of it, and nobody con-
sidered him in the least; the Toad and the
Water Rat walking behind the cart talking to-
gether — 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 incred-
ible speed, while from out the dust a faint
"Poop-poop!" wailed like an uneasy animal in
pain. Hardly regarding it, they turned to re-
sume 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, im- ,
mense, breath-snatching, passionate, with its
pilot tense and hugging his wheel, possessed all

44

THE OPEN ROAD

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 situ-
ation such as this, simply abandoned himself to
his natural emotions. Rearing, plunging, back-
ing 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
backward towards the deep ditch at the side of
the road. It wavered an instant — then there
was a heart-rending 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 vil-
lains!" he shouted, shaking both fists. "You
scoundrels, you highwaymen, you — you — road-
hogs! — I '11 have the law of you! I '11 report
you! I '11 take you through all the Courts!"
His home-sickness had quite slipped away from

45

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 dis-
appearing 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.

46

THE OPEN ROAD

"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! Vil-
lages skipped, towns and cities jumped — always
somebody else's horizon! O bliss! O poop-
poop! O my! 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,

47

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 care-
lessly into the ditch in the wake of my magnifi-
cent 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 '11 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.

48

THE OPEN ROAD

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 '11 have to
go straight to the police-station and see if they

49

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

know anything about that motor-car and who
it belongs to, and lodge a complaint against it.
And then you '11 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 '11
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 be-
witching smell! I owe it all to you, my best of
friends!"

The Rat turned from him in despair. "You
50

THE OPEN ROAD

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 '11 go
to the railway station, and with luck we may
pick up a train there that '11 get us back to river
bank 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 spellbound, 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

51

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 gossip-
ing, 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."

m.

Hi
THE WILD WOOD

Ill

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 per-
sonage 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 him-
self put off. "It 's all right," the Rat would
say. "Badger '11 turn up some day or other —
he 's always turning up — and then I '11 intro-
duce 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."

55

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

"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, be-
cause 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 '11 be coming along some day,
if you '11 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

THE WILD WOOD

swollen river raced past outside their windows
with a speed that mocked at boating of any
sort or kind, that he found his thoughts dwell-
ing 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 suc-
ceeded each other in stately procession. Purple
loosestrife arrived early, shaking luxuriant tan-
gled 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

57

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 ani-
mals, 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

58

HE SOMETIMES SCRIBBLED POETRY

THE WILD WOOD

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 ram-
bles along dusty lanes and through yellow corn-
fields; 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 him-
self 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 coun-
try lay bare and entirely leafless around him,

59

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 to-
wards the Wild Wood, which lay before him low
and threatening, like a black reef in some still
southern sea.

60

THE WILD WOOD

There was nothing to alarm him at first
entry. Twigs crackled under his feet, logs
tripped him, funguses on stumps resembled car-
icatures, 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 cheer-
fully not to begin imagining things or there
would be simply no end to it. He passed
another hole, and another, and another; and

61

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

then — yes ! — no! — yes ! certainly a little, nar-
row 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 through-
out the whole length of the wood to its farthest
limit. They were up and alert and ready, evi-

THE WILD WOOD

dently , 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 mul-
tiplied, 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
63

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 fulness, 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

64

THE WILD WOOD

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. Remember-
ing 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 accus-
tomed peg. His goloshes, which always lay by
the umbrella-stand, were also gone.

The Rat left the house, and carefully exam-
ined 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

65

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 anx-
iously 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

66

I

THE WILD WOOD

to traverse it, laboriously working over the
whole ground, and all the time calling out cheer-
fully, "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 sooth-
ingly. "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

07

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 '11 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

68

THE WILD WOOD

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 re-
freshed and in his usual spirits, the Rat said,
"Now then! I '11 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

69

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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,

70

THE WILD WOOD

they set out bravely, and took the line that
seemed most promising, holding on to each
other and pretending with invincible cheerful-
ness that they recognised 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 ach-
ing 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

71

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 '11 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 '11 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.

72

THE WILD WOOD

" 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 '11 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, exam-
ining 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 ex-
amined 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

73

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

busily, while the Mole waited impatiently, re-
marking at intervals, "O, come on, Rat!"

Suddenly the Rat cried "Hooray!" and then
"Hooray-oo-ray^oo-ray-oo-ray!" and fell to exe-
cuting 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 care-
less 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

74

THE WILD WOOD

home I shall go and complain about it to — to
somebody or other, see if I don't!"

"O, dear! 0, 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 re-
warded, 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 per-
haps we can go on and not waste any more
time over rubbish-heaps. Can we eat a door-
mat? 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
75

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

excited Rat, "that this door-mat doesn't tell
you anything?"

"Really, Rat," said the Mole, quite pettishly,
"I think we 've had enough of this folly. Who
ever heard of a door-mat telling any one any-
thing? 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 every-
where 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

76

THE WILD WOOD

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

77

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 '11 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.

78

MR. BADGER

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 walk-
ing 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 exceed-
ingly angry. Who is it this time, disturbing
people on such a night? Speak up!"

"Oh, Badger," cried the Rat, "let us in,
81

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

please. It 's me, Rat, and my friend Mole, and
we 've lost our way in the snow."

"What, Ratty, my dear little man!" ex-
claimed 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
82

MR. BADGER

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 mys-
terious 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 dis-
posed. 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

83

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 flick-
ered and played over everything without dis-
tinction.

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,

84

WHERE TWO OR THREE FRIENDS OP SIMPLE TASTE COULD
SIT ABOUT AS THEY PLEASED

MR. BADGER

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 actu-
ally 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 attrac-
tive, and whether the other things would oblig- ,
ingly 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,

85

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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

86

MR. BADGER

about things in general, the Badger said heart-
ily, "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. "An-
other 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

87

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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," con-
tinued the Rat. "Toad 's rich, we all know;
but he 's not a millionaire. And he 's a hope-
lessly 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 any-
thing 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

88

MR. BADGER

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 half-way 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 '11 take Toad seriously in hand. We '11
stand no nonsense whatever. We '11 bring him
back to reason, by force if need be. We '11 make
him be a sensible Toad. We '11 — 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 under-
ground animal by birth and breeding, the situa-

89

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

tion 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 candle-
sticks. "Come along, you two, and I '11 show
you your quarters. And take your time to-
morrow 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 tb.e 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 sec-
onds, tumbled in between the sheets in great joy
and contentment.

90

THE TWO LITTLE WHITE BEDS LOOKED SOFT AND INVITING

MR. BADGER

In accordance with the kindly Badger's in-
junctions, 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 re-
spectfully 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 every
one knows — "

91

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

"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," re-
pled 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 ex-
cuse gets monotonous. The animals well knew
that Badger, having eaten a hearty breakfast,

92

MR. BADGER

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 stamp-
ing 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 affection-
ate 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 ar-
rived 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

93

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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, ram-
parts — 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 ex-
pression; but I met no sensible being to ask the
news of. About halfway across I came on a rab-
bit 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

94

MR. BADGER

fore-paw 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 par-
ticular 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 blessed 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 rab-^
bits?' 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

95

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 en-
tered, yawning and rubbing his eyes, and greeted
them all in his quiet, simple way, with kind
inquiries 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."

96

MR. BADGER

"Rather!" replied the Otter, winking at the
Mole. "The sight of these greedy young hedge-
hogs 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 '11
send some one with you to show you the way.
You won't want any dinner to-day, I '11 be
bound."

He gave them sixpence apiece and a pat on
the head, and they went off with much re-
spectful swinging of caps and touching of fore-
locks.

Presently they all sat down to luncheon to-
gether. 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

97

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

felt to him. "Once well underground," lie 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 under-
ground. 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 trades-
men, no remarks passed on you by fellows look-
ing 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 lodg-
ings; uncomfortable, inconveniently situated,
and horribly expensive. Take Toad. I say
nothing against Toad Hall; quite the best house

98

MR. BADGER

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 win-
dows 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 '11 take you
all round this little place of mine. I can see
you '11 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

99

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 vault-
ings of the crammed store-chambers, the masonry
everywhere, the pillars, the arches, the pave-
ments. "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

100

MR. BADGER

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 level-

101

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

ling 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 flour-
ished. They didn't bother themselves about
the past — they never do; they 're too busy.
The place was a bit humpy and hillocky, nat-
urally, 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."

102

MR. BADGER

"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 '11 pass the
word around to-morrow, and I think you '11 have
no further trouble. Any friend of mine walks
where he likes in this country, or I '11 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 op-
pressing 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 '11 be all right, my fine fellow," said the
Otter. "I'm coming along with you, and I

103

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

know every path blindfold; and if there's a
head that needs to be punched, you can con-
fidently 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 overhang-
ing 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.

104

MR. BADGER

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 amaze-
ment.

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

105

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

and hedge-row, linked to the ploughed furrow,
the frequented pasture, the lane of evening lin-
gerings, 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.

106

DULCE DOMUM

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 return-
ing 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 begin-
nings; 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, more-

109

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

over, to that small inquiring something which
all animals carry inside them, saying unmis-
takably, "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 fre-
quented 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

110

DULCE DOMUM

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 over-
flowed through the casements into the dark
world without. Most of the low latticed win-
dows 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

111

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

1/ 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 gradu-
ally 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

112

DULCE DOMUM

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 greet-
ing 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-communica-
tions with his surroundings, living or otherwise,
and have only the word "smell," for instance, to

113

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 dark-
ness, 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 search-
ing 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 pull-
ing 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 morn-

114

DULCE DOMUM

ing he had hardly given it a thought, so ab-
sorbed had he been in his new life, in all its
pleasures, its surprises, its fresh and captivating
experiences. Now, with a rush of old memo-
ries, 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, sorrow-
fully, 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

115

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 '11 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

116

DULCE DOMUM

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 heart-strings he set his face down the
road and followed submissively in the track of
the Rat, while faint, thin little smells, still dog-
ging his retreating nose, reproached him for his
new friendship and his callous forgetfulness.

With an effort he caught up to the unsuspect-
ing 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 '11 sit down here
for a minute and rest. The snow has held off

117

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 help-
lessly 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

118

DULCE DOMUM

quarters — or Toad's beautiful hall — or Bad-
ger'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, pre-
venting further speech.

The Rat stared straight in front of him,
saying nothing, only patting Mole gently on
the shoulder. After a time he muttered gloom-
ily, "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
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THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 (hie) going to (hie),
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

120

DULCE DOMUM

cheer up, old chap, and take my arm, and we '11
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 baek 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.

121

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 un-
erring 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 wall 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,

122

DULCE DOMUM

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 carry-
ing plaster statuary — Garibaldi, and the infant
Samuel, and Queen Victoria, and other heroes
of modern Italy. Down an one side of the fore-
court 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 sur-
rounded 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 every-
thing 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 cheer-
less, deserted look of the long-neglected house,

123

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

and its narrow, meagre dimensions, its worn
and shabby contents — and collapsed again on
a hall-chair, his nose to his paws. "O Ratty!"
lie 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 '11 make a jolly
night of it. The first thing we want is a good
fire; I '11 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 '11 fetch the wood
and the coals, and you get a duster, Mole —
you '11 find one in the drawer of the kitchen

124

DULCE DOMUM

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 him-
self; 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 your-
self 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

125

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

alter 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!" con-
tinued 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 j oiliest 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

126

DULCE DOMUM

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 emo-
tion, 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 wonder-
ful find and a bargain, and this other thing
was bought out of laborious savings and a cer-
tain 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 expa-
tiate on them, quite forgetful of the supper they
both so much needed; Rat, who was desperately
hungry but strove to conceal it, nodding se-
riously, examining with a puckered brow, and
saying, "wonderful," and "most remarkable,"
at intervals, when the chance for an observation
was given him.

1*7

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 con-
fused murmur of tiny voices, while broken sen-
tences 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 some-
times, 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.

128

DULCE DOMUM

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 theMim rays of
a horn lantern, some eight or ten little field-
mice stood in a semicircle, red worsted com-
forters 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 lit-
tle 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,
129

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

Yet draw us in by your fire to bide;
Joy shall be yours in the morning I

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 I

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 I

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 I
Joy was hers in the morning I

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 I

Joy shall be theirs in the morning I"

The voices ceased, the singers, bashful but.
smiling, exchanged sidelong glances, and silence
succeeded — but for a moment only. Then,

130

DULCE DOMUM

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 heart-
ily. "And now come along in, all of you, and
warm yourselves by the fire, and have some-
thing 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 master-
ful 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 ouir
shops keep open to all sorts of hours."

"Then look here!" said the Rat. "You go
131

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 conver-
sation, 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.

132

COME ALONG, FIELD-MICE, CRIED THE MOLE.
QUITE LIKE OLD TIMES ! "

THIS IS

DULCE DOMUM

The Rat, meanwhile, was busy examining the
label on one of the beer-bottles. "I perceive
this to be Old Burton," he remarked approv-
ingly. "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 cap-
tured 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 con-
vent. Here, you I You were in it, I remember.
Get up and recite a bit."

The field-mouse addressed got up on his legs,
133

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

giggled shyly, looked round the room, and re-
mained 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 lan-
tern 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 pro-

134

DULCE DOMUM

vided, 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 '11 take this.
What a ripping little house this is! Everything
so handy!"

135

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

He clambered into his bunk and rolled him-
self well up in the blankets, and slumber gath-
ered 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

186

DULCE DOMUM

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.

t97

MR. TOAD

VI

MR. TOAD

|"T 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."

141

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 an-
nounced 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, glanc-
ing 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

142

MR. TOAD

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 de-
lightedly. "Hooray! I remember now! We '11
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 him-
self in those singularly hideous habiliments so
dear to him, which transform him from a (com-
paratively) 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 ani-
mals will accompany me instantly to Toad Hall,
and the work of rescue shall be accomplished."

"Right you are!" cried the Rat, starting up.

"We '11 rescue the poor unhappy animal! We '11

convert him! He '11 be the most converted

Toad that ever was before we 've done with

him!"

143

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 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 swag-
gering down the steps, drawing on his gaunt-
leted 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 invi-
tation remained unfinished.

144

MR. TOAD

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, kick-
ing 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

145

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 '11 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 '11 see whether
you come out of that room the same Toad that
you went in."

146

MR. TOAD

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

"That 's no good!" said the Rat contemptu-
ously. " Talking to Toad '11 never cure him.
He '11 say anything."

They made themselves comfortable in arm-
chairs 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 pro-
ceeding 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, sol-
emnly leading by the paw a very limp and de-
jected 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.

147

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

"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

148

1. jvrtfvcy __-

LONG-DRAWI* SOBS FROM THE BOSOM OF TOAD

MR. TOAD

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 scandal-
ised. "You backsliding animal, didn't you tell
me just now, in there — "

"Oh, yes, yes, in there" said Toad impa-
tiently. "I 'd have said anything in there.
You 're so eloquent, dear Badger, and so mov-
ing, 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!"

149

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

"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 '11 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 '11 take great care of everything for you
till you 're well, Toad," said the Mole; "and
we '11 see your money isn't wasted, as it has
been."

140

MR. TOAD

"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 or-
dered 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 vio-
lent paroxysms possessed him he would arrange
bedroom chairs in rude resemblance of a motor-

151

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 pain-
ful 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, ^'0 leave him
alone, he wants nothing, perhaps he '11 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-

152

MR. TOAD

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 '11 be out till luncheon
time, so you and I will spend a pleasant morn-
ing together, and I '11 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."

153

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

"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 nui-
sance, 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 per-
haps we may as well let things take their course."

"Why, what do you want a doctor for?"
154

MR. TOAD

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 — " mur-
mured 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, begin-
ning to get rather alarmed, "of course I '11 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,

155

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

and there are moments — perhaps I should say
there is a moment — when one must face dis-
agreeable 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 rea-
son; 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 pps-

156

MR. TOAD

sible 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 oppo-
site direction to the Rat, marched off light-
heartedly, 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
157

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 '11 be
so conceited with what he '11 think is his clever-
ness that he may commit any folly. One com-
fort 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, feel-
ing by this time safe from recapture, and the
sun smiling brightly on him, and all Nature

158

MR. TOAD

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 educa-
tion. 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 half-way
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 lunch-
eon 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
159

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 him-
self, "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?"

160

MR. TOAD

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 com-
pletely 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 con-
scious 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.

161

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

"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 imper-
tinence 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? With-
out, 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

162

MR. TOAD s

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 Chair-
man approvingly. "Prisoner! Pull yourself to-
gether 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 market-place,
where the playful populace, always as severe
upon detected crime as they are sympathetic
and helpful when one is merely "wanted,"

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 diffi-
culties; 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 threat-
ening looks through their vizards; across court-
yards, 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
tne iiuierajost keep. There at last they paused,

164

MR. TOAD

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 mur-
rain 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.

165

VII

THE PIPER AT THE GATES
OF DAWN

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 dis-
persing 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 an engage-
ment 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

169

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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. "0, the
blessed coolness!" he said, and sat down, ga-
zing 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.
170

THE PIPER

"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 here-
abouts 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 every-
where, high and low, without finding the slight-
est trace. And they 've asked every animal,
too, for miles around, and no one knows any-
thing about him. Otter 's evidently more anx-
ious than he '11 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, con-
sidering the time of the year, and the place
always had a fascination for the child. And
then there are — well, traps and things — you

171

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 b^ 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

172

THE PIPER

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 sup-
pose 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 '11 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 any-
how; 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 mid-
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THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

stream, 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 phos-
phorescence 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

174

THE PIPER

once more they began to see surfaces — mead-
ows wide-spread, and quiet gardens, and the
river itself from bank to bank, all softly disclosed,
all washed clean of mystery and terror, all ra-
diant 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 pa-
tiently 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 earth-
wards reluctantly, and left them, and mystery
once more held field and river.

Then a change began slowly to declare itself.
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THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 intent-
ness. Mole, who with gentle strokes was just
keeping the boat moving while he scanned
the banks with care, looked at him with curi-
osity.

"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, spell-
bound.

"Now it passes on and I begin to lose it," he
said presently. "O Mole! the beauty of it!

176

THE PIPER

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 joy-
177

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

ously. "Now you mu?t 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 loosestrife that fringed
the bank; then the clear imperious summons
that marched hand-in-hand with the intoxicating
melody imposed its will on Mole, and mechani-
cally 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

178

THE PIPER

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 what-
ever, 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

179

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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, with-
out 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

180

THE PIPER

dominant and imperious. He might not refuse,
were Death himself waiting to strike him in-
stantly, 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 fulness 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 humorously,
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 dis-
posed in majestic ease on the sward; saw, last
of all, nestling between his very hooves, sleep-
ing soundly in entire peace and contentment,
the little, round, podgy, childish form of the
baby otter. All this he saw, for one moment

181

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 deep-
ening 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

182

LOOKED IN THE VERY EYES OF THE FRIEND AND HELPER

THE PIPER

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 light-hearted 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

183

1/

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

can recapture 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 pen-
alties; so Mole, after struggling with his mem-
ory 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 ani-
mal; but Rat, lingering, looked long and doubt-
fully at certain hoof -marks deep in the sward.

184

THE PIPER

»

"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 prom-
ise 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 remem-
ber seeing quite recently somewhere — they won-
dered 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

185

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 con-
tentedly and with importance; watched him
till they saw his muzzle suddenly lift and his
waddle break into a clumsy amble as he quick-
ened 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 pa-
tience, 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

186

THE PIPER

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 —

187

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

Lest the awe should dwell — And turn your frolic
to fret — You shall look on my power at the help-
ing 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 — per-
fect—"

188

THE PIPER

"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 under-
stood the silence. With a smile of much hap-
piness on his face, and something of a listening
look still lingering there, the weary Rat was
fast asleep.

189

VIII
TOAD'S ADVENTURES

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 for-
tress 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 debo-
nair! 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

193

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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! wise
old Badger!" (he said), "0 clever, intelligent
Rat and sensible Mole ! What sound judgments,
what a knowledge of men and matters you pos-
sess! 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 par-
ticularly fond of animals, and, besides her ca-
nary, whose cage hung on a nail in the massive
wall of the keep by day, to the great annoyance

194

O UNHAPPY AND FORSAKEN TOAD

TOAD'S ADVENTURES

of prisoners who relished an after-dinner nap s
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 '11 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

196

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 re-
flected, 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 him-
self 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

TOAD'S ADVENTURES

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 com-
plete.

When the girl returned, some hours later, she
carried a tray, with a cup of fragrant tea steam-
ing 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 fire-
sides 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
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THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 con-
venience. Up-to-date sanitation. Five min-
utes 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 boat-house,
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-

198

TOAD'S ADVENTURES

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

199

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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,
J 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 af-
fably, "never mind; think no more about it.
I have several aunts who ought' to be washer-
women."

"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

200

TOAD'S ADVENTURES

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 Thurs-
day. 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 wash-
erwoman. 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,

201

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

of Toad Hall, going about the country dis-
guised 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 thought-
fully 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

202

TOAD'S ADVENTURES

this not very convincing artifice, she explained,
aided by picturesque fiction which she could
supply herself, she hoped to retain her situa-
tion, 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 des-
perate 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 con-
trol.

"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 re-
spectable in all your life before. Now, good-bye,

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

Toad, and good luck. Go straight down the
way you came up; and if any one says any-
thing 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 agree-
ably 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 hesi-
tated, 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

204

TOAD'S ADVENTURES

provide prompt and effective reply, formed, in-
deed, 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

205

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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

206

TOAD'S ADVENTURES

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 trav-
ellers, 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

207

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

inferior one-pocketed or no-pocketed produc-
tions that hop or trip about permissively, un-
equipped 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 '11 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

208

TOAD'S ADVENTURES

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 dis-
covered, 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 unfortu-
nately 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 di-
verted 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,
209

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

"what 's the trouble? You don't look particu-
larly 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 '11 be hungry — and playing with matches

— and upsetting lamps, the little innocents ! —
and quarrelling, and going on generally. O dear,
dear!"

"Well, I '11 tell you what I '11 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 '11
wash a few shirts for me when you get home,

810

TOAD'S ADVENTURES

and send 'em along, I '11 give you a ride on
my engine. It 's against the Company's regula-
tions, 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

211

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

praise and admiration at the recital of his
adventures and his surpassing cleverness, he be-
gan to skip up and down and shout and sing
snatches of song, to the great astonishment of
the engine-driver, who had come across washer-
women 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.

212

TOAD'S ADVENTURES

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 shab-
bily dressed men in pot-hats, obvious and unmis-
takable 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.

213

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 clever-
ness, 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 motor-
car 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 magis-
trates—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

214

TOAD'S ADVENTURES

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 police-
men when I 'm on my own engine, for another.
And the sight of an animal in tears always
makes me feel queer and soft-hearted. So cheer
up, Toad! I '11 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,

215

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 embank-
ment, 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

216

TOAD'S ADVENTURES

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

217

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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, snig-
gering. 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.

218

IX

WAYFARERS ALL

IX

WAYFARERS ALL

THE Water Rat was restless, and he did
not exactly know why. To all appear-
ance the summer's pomp was still at fullest
height, and although in the tilled acres green
had given way to gold, though rowans were red-
dening, and the woods were dashed here and
there with a tawny fierceness, yet light and
warmth and colour were still present in undi-
minished measure, clean of any chilly premoni-
tions 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 an-
other feathered friend, for months a part of the
familiar landscape and its small society, was

221

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 peremp-
tory 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 af-
fected by all these flittings and farewells, this
eager discussion of plans, routes, and fresh quar-
ters, this daily shrinkage in the stream of com-
radeship. 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 our-

222

WAYFARERS ALL

selves, 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. Leav-
ing 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

223

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

dancing, shimmering, softly talking; or swaying
strongly to the passing wind and recovering it-
self 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. To-day, however, though
they were civil enough, the field-mice and har-
vest 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 every-
where piles and bundles of wheat, oats, barley,
beech-mast and nuts, lay about ready for trans-
port.

"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

224

WAYFARERS ALL

time to be thinking of winter quarters yet, by a
long way!"

"0 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."

"0, 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.

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

"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 twp 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 to-
gether 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
226

WAYFARERS ALL

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 '11 stop, and so on. That 's
half the fun!"

"Fun?" said the Rat; "now th/it '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 '11 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

227

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 '11 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 bliss-
ful 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

228

WAYFARERS ALL

insect! The past was like a bad dream; the
future was all happy holiday as I moved south-
wards 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 pas-
sionate reminiscence, while he listened fasci-
nated, and his heart burned within him. In
himself, too, he knew that it was vibrating at
last, that chord hitherto dormant and unsus-
pected. The mere chatter of these southern-
bound birds, their pale and second-hand reports,
had yet power to awaken this wild new sensa-
tion 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 odour?
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

229

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 brows-
ing 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 r

"In due time," said the third, "we shall be
home-sick once more for quiet water-lilies sway-
ing 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."

28P

WAYFARERS ALL

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 hori-
zon 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 col-
oured 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

231

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 way-
farers, too, that might have trodden it, and the
fortunes and adventures they had gone to seek
or found unseeking — out there, beyond — be-
yond!

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 mo-
ment — 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

232

WAYFARERS ALL

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

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

best in the world, if only you are strong enough
to lead it!"

"Yes, it 's the life, the only life, to live," re-
sponded 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 south-
wards, 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 nod-
ded northwards. "Never mind about it. I
had everything I could want — everything I
had any right to expect of life, and more; and

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WAYFARERS ALL

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 sea-
faring 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

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

his ship. When Sigurd returned home, many of
his Northmen remained behind and entered the
Emperor's body-guard, and my ancestor, a Nor-
wegian 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 sea-
faring. O, those southern seaports! The smell
of them, the riding-lights at night, the glamour ! "

WAYFARERS ALL

"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. Fam-
ily troubles, as usual, began it. The domestic
storm-cone was hoisted, and I shipped myself
on board a small trading vessel bound from Con-
stantinople, 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 — sleep-
ing in some cool temple or ruined cistern during
the heat of the day — feasting and song after

237

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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. 0, Venice is a fine city, wherein
a rat can wander at his ease and take his pleas-
ure! 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 shell-fish?
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," con-
tinued the Sea Rat, "coasting down the Italian

888

THOSE WEKE GOLDEN DAYS

WAYFARERS ALL

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 upcountry. 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
of a wink. "I 'm an old hand," he remarked
With much simplicity. "The captain's cabin 's
good enough fpr 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

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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

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WAYFARERS ALL

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

241

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

he got out the luncheon-basket and packed a
simple meal, in which, remembering the stran-
ger'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 some-
what 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

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WAYFARERS ALL

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 Sea-
farer, 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

£43

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 sun-
down 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 adven-
tures of a dozen seaports, the fights, the es-
capes, the rallies, the comradeships, the gallant
undertakings; or he searched islands for treas-

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WAYFARERS ALL

ure, 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

245

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 cap-
stan, 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 her-

246

WAYFARERS ALL

self 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 in-
sect'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.

247

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

Mechanically he rose and proceeded to re-
pack the luncheon-basket, carefully and without
haste. Mechanically he returned home, gath-
ered 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," mur-
mured 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 him-
self in front of him, and looking into his eyes

248

WAYFARERS ALL

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! Grap-
pling with him strongly he dragged him inside,
threw him down, and held him.

The Rat struggled desperately for a few mo-
ments, 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 him-
self, 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 mat-
ters; and it was getting dark when he returned

249

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 rem-
iniscences'? Even to himself, now the spell was
broken and the glamour gone, he found it diffi-
cult 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 inter-

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WAYFARERS ALL

est for the time in the things that went to make
up his daily life, as well as in all pleasant fore-
castings 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 pre-
serves 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

851

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

at it this evening, instead of — well, brooding
over things so much. I 've an idea that you '11
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.

THE FURTHER ADVENTURES
OF TOAD

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

255

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 com-
pany, as it always had been in days of old be-
fore misfortune fell upon him. He shook him-
self 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 ner-
vous terrors of yesterday dispelled by rest and
sleep and frank and heartening sunshine.

He had the world all to himself, that early
256

FURTHER ADVENTURES

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 every-
where, 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 him-

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THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

self. "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 1 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 say it is a nice morning
to them that 's not in sore trouble, like what I

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FURTHER ADVENTURES

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 liv-
ing, 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 my-
self," 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.

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THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

You come along in the barge with me, and I '11
give you a lift."

She steered the barge close to the bank, and
Toad, with many humble and grateful acknowl-
edgments, 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 your-
self, ma'am?" asked the barge- woman respect-
fully.

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"0, 1 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 7 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

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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 attend-
ing 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 '11 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? "

"0, 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 '11 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 '11 find in a corner of the cabin.
If you '11 just take one or two of the most
necessary sort — I won't venture to describe
them to a lady like you, but you '11 recognise

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them at a glance — and put them through the
wash-tub as we go along, why, it '11 be a pleas-
ure to you, as you rightly say, and a real help
to me. You '11 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 gentleman'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 '11 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

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

escape this way and that, saw that he was too
far from the bank for a flying leap, andP 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 ran-
dom, 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. Noth-
ing that he could do to the things seemed to
please them or do them good. He tried coax-
ing, 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

264

A

LOST THE SOAP, FOB THE FIFTIETH THJi

FURTHER ADVENTURES

the lips of either washerwomen or Toads; and
lost the soap, for the fiftieth time.

A burst of laughter made him straighten him-
self 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 '11 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 barge-woman!"

The woman moved nearer to him and peered
under his bonnet keenly and closely. "Why,
so you are!" she cried. "Well, I never! A

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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

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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 '11
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 tow-
rope 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

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THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 contin-
ued 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 sun-
shine, 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

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FURTHER ADVENTURES

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 God-
dess, 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 some-
thing. He looked the gipsy over carefully, won-
dering vaguely whether it would be easier to
fight him or cajole him. So there he sat, and

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THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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."

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"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 coun-
tenance.

"A shilling a leg?" cried Toad. "If y6u
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,

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THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 '11 tell you what
I will do. I '11 make it five shillings, and
that 's three-and-sixpence more than the ani-
mal 's worth. And that 's my last word."

Then Toad sat and pondered long and
deeply. For he was hungry and quite penni-
less, 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 shil-
lings 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 what-
ever 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 pos-
sibly eat, at one sitting of course, out of that
iron pot of yours that keeps sending forth such

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FURTHER ADVENTURES

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 '11 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 can-
vas 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 peahens,
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

273

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 direc-
tions 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

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FURTHER ADVENTURES

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, unfortu-
nately, 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 pocket-
ful of money and an excellent breakfast! Ho,
ho! I am The Toad, the handsome, the popu-
lar, 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!

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THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

"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 approach-

276

FURTHER ADVENTURES

ing 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 sicken-
ing 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

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THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 hail-
ing people in broad day on the high road, in-
stead 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, "0 dear! this
is very sad! Here is a poor old thing — a wash-
erwoman apparently — who has fainted in the
road! Perhaps she is overcome by the heat,
poor creature; or possibly she has not had any

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FURTHER ADVENTURES

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
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THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 cra-
vings that rose up and beset him and took pos-
session 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
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by the driver, took the steering-wheel in his
hands, listened with affected humility to the
instructions given him, and set the car in mo-
tion, 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 an-
noyed 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

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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 ani-
mal 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

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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 some-
what, 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

283

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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!

0, 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! 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! Sit-
ting still and gassing again! O my! my!
O my!"

284

FURTHER ADVENTURES

He glanced back, and saw to his dismay that
they were gaining on him. On he ran desper-
ately, 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 tri-
umphant 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. Pres-

285

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

ently 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 to-
wards 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"

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

289

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 '11
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,

290

"LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS"

and here was the thing being begun all over
again, apparently; and by a Rat, too! How-
ever, 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 wash-
erwoman.

By the time he came down again luncheon
was on the table, and *ery glad Toad was to
see it, for he had been through some trying ex-
periences 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-

291

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 hand-cuffed,
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 deal them? Be a crip-
ple, if you think it 's exciting; be a bankrupt,
for a change, if you 've set your mind on i%:
but why choose to be a convict? When are you

292

"LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS"

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 ques-
tion. So although, while the Rat was talking
so seriously, he kept saying to himself muti-
nously, "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

293

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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
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 '11 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, pot-
tering 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

294

"LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS"

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 ani;
mal again. I can bear it."

"When you — got — into that — that — troub-
le of yours," said the Rat, slowly and impres-
sively; "I mean, when you — disappeared from

295

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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.

296

"LIKE SUMMER, TEMPESTS"

"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 skir-
mishing 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

297

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

suspecting nothing, for it wasn't a night for
any animals to be out in, when those blood-
thirsty 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 pris-
ons and magistrates, and policemen; horrid per-
sonal songs, with no humour in them. And

298

/onrr
fin

WrtMOf OftRNMrtRT

^ ^ S ^^ xv sea

THE WILD WOODERS HAVE BEEN LIVING IN TOAD HALL

"LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS"

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 '11 jolly soon see about
that!"

"It's- no good, Toad!" called the Rat after
him. "You 'd better come back and sit down;
you '11 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 a.% 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
299

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

scampered off down the road as hard as he
could; and as he ran he heard the ferret laugh-
ing 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 nut 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 cau-
tiously. 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

300

"LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS"

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, support-
ing 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 ani-

301

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

mals — 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 dis-
armed his friends' criticism and won them back
to his side, "Ratty! I see that I have been a
headstrong and a wilful Toad! Henceforth, be-
lieve 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
302

"LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS"

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 reproach-
fully. "While you were riding about the coun-
try 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,

'1ft

Toad, you don't, really. Some day, when it 's
too late, you' 11 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

303

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 re-
sumed 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, "Wel-
come home, Toad! Alas! what am I saying?
Home, indeed! This is a poor home-coming.

304

"LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS"

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 '11 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 un-
washed, 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;
305

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

but it was too late. Toad was puffing and
swelling already.

"Clever? 0, 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 every-
body, that 's all! O, no! I 'm a stupid ass, I
am! I '11 tell you one or two of my little ad-
ventures, Mole, and you shall judge for your-
self!"

"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 hi?
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!"

306

"LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS"

"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 — "

807

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

"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 '11 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

308

"LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS"

from his seat and stood before the fireplace,
reflecting deeply. At last he spoke.

"Toad," he said severely. "You bad, trouble-
some 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

309

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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. Se-
crets 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
erf telling you. He discovered that passage —

310

"LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS"

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 can-
not 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 mot 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 imme-
diately, 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, what-
ever 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," con-
311

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

tinued 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, suspect-
ing 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 pas-
sage 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.

312

"LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS"

" — 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

313

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 gath-
ered round about him, earnestly assuring him
that he really was a idever 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 -

314

"LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS' 4

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, rhyth-
mical 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 '11 learn 'em

835

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

to steal my house!" he cried. "I '11 learn 'em,
I '11 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.

316

"LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS"

"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 con-
fidently. "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 washer-
woman-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 re-
spectful. '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

317

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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," con-
tinued 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, dis-
mayed.

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 '11 show you whether I know what
I 'm talking about; and you 'U know pretty

318

"LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS"

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 as the Die-hards, or the Death-or-Glory
Toads, will storm the orchard and carry every-
thing 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 pres-
ently I came creeping back along the ditch
and took a peep at them thrbugh 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 every-
body 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

319

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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,

320

"LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS"

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 re-
sumed 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-in-
stead-of-ten-minutes-afterwards. Those are al-

321

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

ways 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?

928

XII
THE RETURN OF ULYSSES

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 thorough-
going 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 ban-
dages and sticking-plaster, and a flask and a
sandwich-case. The Badger laughed good-hu-
mouredly 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

385

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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, fol-
low 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 '11 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 him-
self over the edge into a hole in the river bank,
a little above the water. The Mole and the
Rat followed silently, swinging themselves suc-
cessfully 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,

326

THE RETURN OF ULYSSES

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!"

327

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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-oo-
ray-oo-ray-ooray!" they heard, and the stamp-
ing of little feet on the floor, and the clinking

323

THE RETURN OF ULYSSES

of glasses as little fists pounded on the ta-
ble. "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 dan-
ger 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 ca-
rousing.

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

329

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

Toad!" — (great laughter) — "Good Toad, mod-
est 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 sub-
ject 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
330

THE RETURN OF ULYSSES

the tables and spring madly up at the windows!
Well might the ferrets rush wildly for the fire-
place and get hopelessly jammed in the chim-
ney! 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 'U
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 cudg-
els; and they broke and fled with squeals of

331

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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, rest-
ing 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 win-
dow; 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

THE RETURN OF ULYSSES

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
388

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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
writh you, and have some bedrooms cleaned

334

THE RETURN OF ULYSSES

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 good-natured 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

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 to-
night, 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 con-
tentment, and presently retired to rest between
clean sheets, safe in Toad's ancestral home, won
back by matchless valour, consummate strat-
egy, and a proper handling of sticks.

The following morning, Toad, who had over-
slept himself as usual, came down to breakfast
disgracefully late, and found on the table a cer-

336

THE RETURN OF ULYSSES

tain 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. " Any-
337

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

thing 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-t
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 / '11 bear a hand, too,
and take my share of the burden. I '11 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

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THE RETURN OF ULYSSES

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 adven-
tures, and what a career of triumph he had to

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 Br 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 himsetf.)

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 gentleman.
Toad swaggered out and found it was one of the
prisoners of the previous evening, very respect-

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THE RETURN OF ULYSSES

ful 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 lunch-
eon, very boisterous and breezy after a morn-
ing 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, re-
marked casually, "Well, look after yourselves,
you fellows! Ask for anything you want!" and
was swaggering off in the direction of the gar-
den, where he wanted to think out an idea or

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THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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 under-
stood him, they saw through him, they had got
ahead of him. His pleasant dream was shat-
tered.

THE RETURN OF ULYSSES

"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 even-

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

ing, 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 blusb
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, "7 feel like a brute; I
wonder what you feel like?"

"O, I know, I know," said the Badger gloom-
ily. "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

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THE RETURN OF ULYSSES

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 audi-
ence that his imagination so clearly saw:

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THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

TOAD'S LAST LITTLE SONG

The Toad — came — home!

There was panic in the parlours and howling 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.

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THE RETURN OF ULYSSES

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 qui-
etly 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 clever-
ness, 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, de-
scribing 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 master mind; the Mole and
the Water Rat bore the brunt of the fighting;
I merely served in the ranks and did little or

347

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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,

348

THE RETURN OF ULYSSES

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, undis-
turbed 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 apprecia-
tive; 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

349

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS

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, walk-
ing 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

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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.

Cornell University Library
PZ 10.3.G74W7 1913

Wind in the willows

3 1924 028 200 172

St-
■M.