bragging about what he would do. He stepped off too lively on his next
Ant Venture. Ants sometimes lose their balance or their footing, you
know, and Anthony Ant lost both his balance and his footing at the same
time. Down he went to the short grasses below. While a fall like that
would not have made a bit of difference to him usually, this time it
did for the reason that he landed upon the veranda of a fine, new home
a large jumpy Spider had just finished building. That is what the large
jumpy Spider built the veranda for. He had made the veranda webby and
sticky on purpose. Though he made it for catching flies, he did not in
the least object to other insects he might eat.
[Illustration: _Anthony Ant lost both his balance and his footing at
the same time_]
“Ho, I have you now!” he cried, as he ran out from his house cave back
in the clover.
“Oh, please don’t hurt me!” cried Anthony Ant. “I fell down quite by
accident. I did not mean to!”
“I can’t help that,” said the Spider. “I’ve got you now, and as soon as
I get you tied up I shall take you back into my house and eat you.”
Oh, how poor Anthony Ant cried! He kicked and he screamed, and his feet
were more and more tangled in the web all the time.
The Spider was just reaching for him and would have given him a big
bite to quiet him until the tying had been done, when a big, buzzy
thing pounded down so hard into the web veranda that the large jumpy
Spider ran back in a hurry. It was a big Bumblebee, and he was so angry
at the way the Spider was treating so small a creature as Anthony Ant
that he flew from a clover-blossom feast he was having, and bounced up
and down upon the web veranda to show what he thought of such business.
When the Spider saw who he was, there was a fight, I can tell you!
Out rushed the Spider with more web ropes and jumped all around the
Bumblebee, biting at him and trying to tangle him in the ropes. But the
Bumblebee took care to keep his wings out of the web, and he bounced
the veranda up and down so hard that he tore it all to pieces, and got
out Anthony Ant and pulled him away from the place. Then when he saw
how Anthony’s feet were tangled, he helped untangle them. Anthony told
him about the dressing case, and the Bumblebee hunted until he found
it, and Anthony’s hat and basket too. It was not long before Anthony
and the Bumblebee had their bruises and knocks bandaged and dressed
with salve and healing things.
“Say,” said the Bumblebee, “that was a close shave, wasn’t it?”
[Illustration: _Off the Bumblebee bumbled_]
“Oh!” cried Anthony Ant. “I owe you my very life, sir! I never can
repay you!”
“Oh, yes you can,” said the Bumblebee with a grin.
“How?” asked the Ant eagerly.
“By coming up to Clover Lodge for tea at four o’clock this afternoon.
That is Clover Lodge, yonder. I’ve got to be off to work now, but I
always stop at four for a bit of refreshment. It rests me, for you see
I’m an old fellow. I’ll say good-by now, but shall hope to see you
there on the tip-top blossom at the hour named. Good-by!” And off he
bumbled.
AT CLOVER LODGE
To sit upon a sweet, pink clover blossom is more than pleasant. But
to sit there sipping clover tea, with clover sandwiches and clover
honey and clover cakes, while you talk to a nice old fubbly gentleman
Bumblebee, is about as magic as anything that can happen.
“It hasn’t hurt you to take a day from your work, I’m sure,” remarked
the nice old fubbly Bumblebee. “You could not have worked after that
jambling and jipping you had in the Spider’s web. It is a wonder you
could even crawl as far as this, but I knew that if you could manage it
a bit of refreshment here at Clover Lodge would set you right up. Feel
better already, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes, sir, I do!” cried the Ant.
“You are such a busy creature naturally,” said the Bumblebee, “that
I have been wondering how you happened to get into the Spider’s
neighborhood at all. I have not seen any Ant homes near there.”
Anthony hung his head.
“I wasn’t working,” he confessed.
“What!” cried the nice old fubbly gentleman Bumblebee. “Not working!
Oh, I see, I see! You were off on a hunting trip after food for the
family pantry.”
“No, sir,” said Anthony Ant meekly.
“Sick, then?” asked the Bumblebee gently.
“No, sir,” said Anthony Ant, and told him the whole story.
Well, how that nice old fubbly gentleman Bumblebee laughed! He laughed
most of all at the point where Anthony told the name of the doctor.
“What! Alec Beetle Bug? The old rascal! I know him well. He is a good
sort, but a regular Villain for jokes too. Oh, he’s all right, and his
prescription hasn’t hurt you, though I wish he could see how nearly it
made an end of you! Never mind. Stick to the cure, only look out for
jumpy Spiders next time. Well, well, well!” And he fell to chuckling so
hard that the Ant could see that Dr. Beetle Bug and the Bumblebee must
have been full of fun in their youth.
All things come to an end, and some come to an end too soon. This
little visit at Clover Lodge was one of the good things that ended
sooner than the Ant could have wished. But Bumblebees have to get home
before dark, and it was a long air trip the nice old fubbly gentleman
Bumblebee had to take to reach his.
“I’d stay here all night if I were you,” he said to Anthony Ant. “It
won’t cost you a thing. You will find plenty of honey in the clover
cupboards, and all these cakes and things are paid for, so take what
are left with you in the morning. Good luck to you! Some day I’m
coming to Ant-Hill Manor to hear how things turned out with you. You
tell Doctor Alec to take a trip over my way some day, and I’ll let him
feel my pulse, ha, ha! Tell him to come over to hear my latest jokes.
Good-by, lad!” And off he went.
Ah, but the Ant did not like to see the sun go down that night! Clover
Lodge was so lonely and cold and blue without that nice old fubbly
gentleman Bumblebee. The sun set in a glow, but it made him feel only
more lonely, and all his sore spots seemed to ache. What if that jumpy
Spider should crawl up Clover Lodge’s ladderway in the night and grab
him! Oh, if only the nice old fubbly gentleman Bumblebee would come
back!
Once asleep, poor Anthony Ant had bad dreams. He woke in a fright, and
in the soft moonlight saw all kinds of things coming after him, or
thought he saw them, which was just as bad. One shadow looked like the
jumpy Spider--so much so, that he sat right up and screamed!
Then all at once he thought of his pass. He took it from the basket
where he had stowed it away, and set it up where he could see it in the
moonlight and where everything else that might come to harm him would
see it. It looked almost Japanese in the moonlight.
Then he fell asleep again and dreamed a Japanese dream of cherry
blossoms, and wind bells, and incense, and storks, and funny bridges,
and a pale blue mountain, and plum trees, and all that sort of thing.
It was such a lovely dream that it woke him up as wide awake as the bad
dream had. But there was a difference now. He was not the least afraid,
but he thought hard.
Now, as he thought, the night wind blew, and the stars twinkled, and
the grasses swayed, and the Crickets not too tired to crick did it,
and the soft moonlight kept on shining. It was all like a poem--rather
solemn, and rather happy, and rather lumpy-in-the-throat--of the good,
cheerful sort that made you want to cry or laugh, or a little of each
without knowing whether you were happy or sad. Anyway, with a shout
of joy, suddenly Anthony Ant felt the last part of the cure of Dr.
Alexander Beetle Bug’s prescription take hold. He was cured! No more
change for Anthony Ant! He had had all he wanted. He _knew_, for he
asked himself all the questions the Firefly had told him that would
help him know whether or not the cure was finished, and there was no
doubt about the matter any more. Did Anthony Ant want to work? He
_did_! Was he lonesome without his mother and the others? He _was_! Did
he wish his mother was here nights when he was scared? Yes, he _did_,
pass or no pass! Moreover, if another large, weepy sort of lump should
rise in his throat, he felt he never could swallow it as he had managed
to swallow the others. He would have to choke out loud! He would go
right back home in the morning! He no longer needed any Firefly to tell
whether or not the cure was finished. At last he himself just _knew_!
So he tucked himself up once more, slept the remainder of the night in
peace, and finished that lovely Japanese dream.
WHAT THE YELLOWBIRD SAID
Now in the morning, as we know, things look very different. What people
make up their minds in the night to do the next day, they sometimes do
not carry out at all. But with Anthony Ant this was not so. He was more
than ever sure the right thing to do was to go back home. The more he
thought of it, the surer he was.
“I’d better not be in too much of a hurry to start, after all,” he
thought. “Mercy, me! Here I was, nearly running off without eating a
mouthful or taking any of this good food to help me along!”
He found that some one must have been there after all while he was yet
dreaming. He must have slept very late, indeed. So he had, for before
the sun had wakened him that mischievous, nice old fubbly gentleman
Bumblebee came to Clover Lodge and played a trick--a fine, good trick.
He packed Anthony Ant’s lunch basket full of the most nourishing food
there was to be had at Clover Lodge, and the little jar that had
held the Wild-Rose Tea House cheese was now full to the brim with
the sweetest Clover Lodge honey. Then, someway or other, there was a
steaming pot of Clover coffee and clover pancakes piping hot, ready to
be eaten with some of the Clover Lodge honey on them.
The reason for all this was that, out of curiosity, the nice old fubbly
gentleman Bumblebee had come back. By the teardrops on the cheeks
of Anthony Ant, who did not know himself that he had cried in his
sleep, and by the way the little Ant looked, the wise, nice old fubbly
gentleman Bumblebee knew what Anthony Ant had made up his mind to do.
So he flew about doing the fine, good trick hard and fast, and then
went about his business, knowing right well that it would not be long
before Ant-Hill Manor would be having back again one of its very best
workers.
You know how hard it is to eat your breakfast Christmas morning when
your presents are waiting to be opened? Well, sir, that’s just the way
it was with Anthony Ant trying to eat his breakfast this morning. As
good as the breakfast was, it seemed as though it was the hardest work
to swallow a mouthful, he was so crazy to be off to the left on his
journey home. But he made himself eat the cakes and honey and drink the
steaming, good clover coffee. Then he reached for his basket to pack,
and how surprised he was to find it packed! He never would have known
who had played this fine, good trick on him if it had not been for
something scrawled on a leaf in a sort of buzzling handwriting, and the
something said, in the slang language sometimes used by such a person
as the wise, nice old fubbly gentleman Bumblebee, “Go _to_ it!” And it
was signed just “B.”
[Illustration: _Something was scrawled on the leaf in a sort of
buzzling handwriting_]
Whether that meant go to the eating of the lunch or to the carrying out
of the home trip, Anthony Ant did not stop to figure out. He just gave
a gulp of joy at the thought of such a kind, thoughtful friend as the
nice old fubbly gentleman Bumblebee had been in his deeds, and, after a
look about to see that hat, case, and basket were gathered together, he
took them and started on the homeward way.
It was pleasant going too. The roughnesses were not so rough, and the
smoothnesses were smoother. Why, he did not even have to think which
way was right and which was left! It was as though a magnet kept
drawing him but one way, and he knew that pulling feeling he had was
the Ant-Hill Manor direction drawing him home.
Anthony Ant steered clear of the spot where he knew the jumpy Spider
had nearly caught him for keeps. Not once did he take his eye off the
track ahead to be sure no other jumpy Spider was ready to pounce upon
him.
No jumpy Spider pounced upon him, but there was one very exciting Ant
Venture yet. It happened at the top of the tallest thistle in the
field. Anthony Ant had climbed it to get a good view of the land before
he traveled too far over what might be the hardest part of the field.
Sometimes it saves time, you know, to take time. So sometimes it saves
time, in traveling, to take time to go a bit out of your way to have a
look at the general path ahead as far as you can see.
Up went the Ant along the thistle stem, and he did not mind the thorns
the least bit. He went around them and between them, and had no trouble
getting to the top at last. He climbed over the top of the cluster of
blossom heads. There were a few buds not yet opened, and a few blossoms
quite opened, and a very few that had grown so old that their hair had
turned white and was ready to fly away.
He was sitting on one of the fat little buds, where he could see over
the heads of the grasses and low weeds, when all at once something
flew down so near Anthony that the whirring of the wings nearly made
him lose his balance. He dodged back between this bud and the next one
where the something with wings could not get him. My, what an exciting
world this was!
The thing with whirring wings that came to a stop near him was a little
Yellowbird with black on his tail and wings. He was not after Ants
at all, but after the seeds he knew were under the whiteheaded old
blossoms. He busily pulled off the fluff which flew away into the
summer air, and then he dug out the small seeds which were young and
juicy and sweet, as they were not yet ripe and too hard.
Anthony thought it safe to speak to the bird, so he said, “O sir, would
you mind telling me if there are any jumpy Spiders in this way to the
left I am taking toward the brook?”
“Yes,” answered the Yellowbird. “There are lots of them.”
“Oh, my!” said poor Anthony Ant. “I was caught by one once, and nearly
lost my life. What shall I do to escape them?”
“Ho!” replied the Yellowbird. “I should not mind them if I were you. I
never do.”
“Yes, but you are big and can eat them up if you want to, and they are
afraid of you,” said Anthony. “But, you see, I am so small they can
eat me without a bit of trouble, and what to do, I cannot tell.”
“Where are you going?” asked the Yellowbird. “Are you running away from
home? All the other Ants I have met this morning were busy at work. You
are the only one I have seen doing nothing but sitting still.”
Anthony told him all about things, and the Yellowbird said, “Oh, well,
then, I’ll help you. First of all, be on the watch for the webs, of
course, and then steer clear of them. But if a jumpy Spider darts out
at you from behind something where he has been hiding, just say my name
three times to him in a loud voice, and he will run and hide. For if
he thinks I am around he will hide himself, and if he knows you are my
friend he won’t meddle with you. Now, good luck to you, and go home
at once. You will find a straight-ahead road or course through this
field. Keeping always to the left, as you now are, will bring you to
the brook in time, and then you will know where you are.”
“Thank you so much!” said Anthony Ant, and took off his hat to bow
politely.
You know little Yellowbirds like this one say something every time they
dip their wings in flying across a field. Well, this little Yellowbird
flew away soon, and as he flew he said out of real joy at finding
Anthony Ant going back to Ant-Hill Manor: “Back home again! Back home
again! Back home again!” every time he dipped his wings.
THE TWO TRICKS
Yes, sir, it was exactly as the Yellowbird had said, as Anthony Ant
found as he went away from the thistle and on through the tall, thick
grass with his face set toward the left. Everyone was working. Not a
Bug, nor a Beetle, nor a Worm, nor a Caterpillar, nor anything whatever
at all had time to more than nod at him as he passed through the busy
field world. They were all digging, or hunting, or building, or getting
meals, or something of that kind all along the way. The farther he
went, the more he thought how fine a thing it would be to get at that
little wheelbarrow of his again.
By and by, as he was crawling along over a blade and under a blade,
and on the ground, and up a weed to a bridge across to another weed,
and down that weed, he came plump out over a monstrous new web of a
monstrous jumpy Spider. There, sir, was the jumpy Spider’s head poking
out of the cave house at the back of the web. Anthony Ant was so high
above the web that he was as safe as could be, but he saw at once that
it would not do for him to go down that weed. It would land him right
on the monstrous jumpy Spider’s web, and that would be an end of Master
Anthony Ant.
“Oh, ho!” said he. “I’m pretty glad to be up here instead of any
nearer.”
Just for fun he played a trick on the monstrous jumpy Spider. He bit
off a small piece of leaf and dropped it down upon the web veranda.
You ought to have seen how fast that Spider pounced upon the bit of
leaf! Although Anthony Ant was so safe, he had to shiver to think how
he would have felt in the place of the leaf. Then the monstrous jumpy
Spider, looking up, saw Anthony Ant, and began to dance up and down on
the web veranda in a great rage.
[Illustration: _The monstrous jumpy Spider, looking up, saw Anthony
Ant, and began to dance up and down in a great rage_]
“What do you mean, you villain, you!” cried the old Spider. “You young
scoundrel! Let me get at you once and I’ll show you!”
He bounced up and down so hard on the web veranda that Anthony Ant
shook like a bit of leaf himself. Oh, my, my! Of course, he had no
business to play a trick upon the monstrous jumpy Spider, and it was
mean, even if the old Spider was a bad fellow who killed innocent Ants
and things he could catch. Yes, it served the Ant right to have this
scare, he well knew, and the scare was turning out to be a real danger.
The Spider shook the whole web so hard that the entire bridge of this
weed was wiggling so fast that the Ant could not back away on it to the
weed from which he had come, and thus get away. No, sir! He was nicely
paid for his wicked little trick. Unless the old Spider stopped that
shaking of the web, Anthony Ant would be thrown down upon it and eaten
up. He clung on as hard as he could with all his feet and hands. Then
all like a flash through his mind came the words of the Yellowbird, and
in as loud a voice as his trembling would let him he cried down at the
monstrous Spider, “Yellowbird! Yellowbird! Yellowbird!”
Well, sir, you should have seen the sudden change in that Spider’s
looks! He had been black and fierce looking, and now he was almost
gray, he was so pale. Besides, he was no longer stiff and fierce, but
limp and scared, and, as well as the limpness would let him, he lost no
time in getting back into that farthest-away corner of that cave house
at the back of the web veranda.
It did not take Anthony Ant long to climb back along that bridge, and
off by another little out-of-the-way path until he could safely pass
the spot where the old monstrous jumpy Spider lived. He said to himself
he never would play a wicked trick again on anything.
It was high noon when he stopped to eat some of the Clover Lodge
refreshments. How good they tasted! As he ate, he thought of that good,
nice old fubbly gentleman Bumblebee, and how the trick the Bumblebee
had played was a kind one. That was the only trick to play--one that
was good and kind--not a wicked one like that he himself had just
played on the old Spider. Anthony had taken off his hat to cool
his head while he ate, and he saw the mottoes the good, friendly
Grasshopper had pasted in for him. The longer motto he read aloud:
“DON’T GET ANGRY AT NOTHING AT ALL, AND DON’T GET ANGRY AT ANYTHING!”
Well, he had not been angry today, but he had made the Spider get
angry. That was almost as bad as though he himself had been angry. His
mother had told him many a time that even if you did not take part in a
sin, but made someone else do the sin, it was as bad as though you did
it yourself, and you were no better than the one who sinned.
“I guess I was pretty terrible,” said Anthony Ant with a thoughtful
sigh.
All at once he thought of something. He would be braver than he ever
had been in his life. He would go back softly to that bridge and ask
the Spider’s pardon. And this is the way Anthony Ant did it:
He put on his hat, took all his things, and traveled all that long way
back, though it made it nearly half a day more before he would be home.
Climbing carefully and quietly to the bridge, he stole slowly out over
the old monstrous jumpy Spider’s web veranda and dropped a small Fly he
had caught on the way on purpose for a peace offering.
Out came the monstrous jumpy Spider in an instant and grabbed the Fly
in a hurry.
“O Mr. Spider!” called Anthony Ant. “I am the bad Ant that teased you
this morning by fooling you with the piece of leaf. I am very sorry.
I’ll never do it again, and I caught the Fly for you just now to let
you know I really mean it when I say I am sorry. Will you please
forgive me this time?”
My, but the Spider was surprised! He nearly dropped the Fly, and would
have dropped it, only that he was so hungry he already had bitten into
it, and stopped with the bite in his mouth. But never had any one asked
him for forgiveness before, and the more he thought about it, the more
surprised he was.
By and by, in his surprise, he let the Fly fall right out of his mouth
to the floor of his web veranda, and he said slowly, “Well, that beats
me! I never heard the like! To think you would be so kind to me when
I was so angry at you I could have eaten you, and should have if I
had gotten hold of you! I know I’m a gruff old fellow, and I’m sorry
too, and it was mighty good of you to bring me the Fly. I thank you.
If there was anything to forgive you for, I do from the bottom of my
heart!”
Anthony Ant thanked him, and with a light heart said good-by. He ran
back the way he had come, to make up for lost time. The journey seemed
only half as long to the spot where he had eaten his luncheon. Though
it was nearly time to think of supper, he felt well repaid by the good
feeling in his heart for all that long journey back to make his peace
with the Spider.
As for Mr. Spider as he sat in his doorway after his feast given him by
the Ant, he thought and thought more than ever he had thought in his
life. The words he thought were about the same as those in the Ant’s
hat:
“DON’T GET ANGRY AT NOTHING AT ALL, AND DON’T GET ANGRY AT ANYTHING!”
THE ANT VENTURE OF THE CAT-TAIL
The next day Anthony Ant came to a bit of marsh. He had not passed this
bit of marsh on his way out from home for the reason that he was not
following his exact footsteps back. His many little side trips and Ant
Ventures where things made it not so easy to get along made him take a
different path back. But by traveling always toward the left he knew he
would come out in time to the brook, which was a sort of landmark--I
should say, _water_mark, to make it exactly true.
This marsh was a most interesting place. He crawled up a tall cat-tail
to see if he could catch a glimpse of the brook, for he knew the brook
had many marshy spots near its banks on either side from place to
place along its course. This might be one of the brook’s marshes.
At the top of the cat-tail he found he was not yet able to see far
ahead. There were other cat-tails taller than the one he tried, and he
had made a mistake in guessing he could see far from this one. As he
was thinking about the matter, a beautiful Dragon Fly with gauzy wings
came sailing across the cat-tails and lighted upon the one nearest
him--within speaking distance. He was not a bit afraid of the Dragon
Fly. Dragon Flies may catch Mosquitoes and Gnats and such things, but
Anthony Ant knew the Dragon Fly did not eat Ants.
“Good morning, Mr. Dragon Fly,” said Anthony Ant politely.
“The same to you,” replied the Dragon Fly in a friendly voice.
“You are so wise,” said Anthony, “and see so much of the world, that
I should like to ask you if this is a marsh belonging to the brook or
just a marshy spot in the field and not near a brook at all. Which is
it?”
[Illustration: _“Good morning, Mr. Dragon Fly,” said Anthony Ant
politely_]
“Both!” answered the Dragon Fly with a little grin.
“How could it be both?” asked Anthony Ant.
“I’ll tell you,” said the Dragon Fly. “It really is a little spot by
itself, not connected at all with the brook, because there is a good
stretch of land between this marsh and the brook. But it is also a sort
of a belonging of the brook, because, when there are rains and rains
and rains in the spring, sometimes the brook flows right over this way,
and this marsh spreads over toward the brook, and it is almost like one
big marsh, or one big brook, whichever you would rather call it.”
“I see,” said the Ant. “Can you see the brook from the cat-tail where
you are sitting?”