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[Illustration: Front Cover]
THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS
[Illustration: _The Piper at the Gates of Dawn_]
THE WIND
IN THE WILLOWS
BY
KENNETH GRAHAME
ILLUSTRATED BY
PAUL BRANSOM
[Illustration: Front Fly Leaf
showing the main characters enjoying a picnic]
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
MCMXIII
_Copyright, 1908, 1913, by_
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
_Published October, 1913_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE RIVER BANK 1
II. THE OPEN ROAD 27
III. THE WILD WOOD 53
IV. MR. BADGER 79
V. DULCE DOMUM 107
VI. MR. TOAD 139
VII. THE PIPER AT THE GATES OF DAWN 167
VIII. TOAD'S ADVENTURES 191
IX. WAYFARERS ALL 219
X. THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF TOAD 253
XI. "LIKE SUMMER TEMPESTS CAME HIS TEARS" 287
XII. THE RETURN OF ULYSSES 323
ILLUSTRATIONS
The Piper at the Gates of Dawn _Frontispiece_
Facing Page
It was the Water Rat 8
"Come on!" he said. "We shall just have to walk it" 50
In panic, he began to run 64
Through the Wild Wood and the snow 94
Toad was a helpless prisoner in the remotest dungeon 164
He lay prostrate in his misery on the floor 196
"It's a hard life, by all accounts," murmured the Rat 240
Dwelling chiefly on his own cleverness, and presence
of mind in emergencies 292
The Badger said, "Now then, follow me!" 326
I
THE RIVER BANK
The Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring-cleaning
his little home. First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders
and steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash; till he
had dust in his throat and eyes, and splashes of whitewash all over
his black fur, and an aching back and weary arms. Spring was moving in
the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even
his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent
and longing. It was small wonder, then, that he suddenly flung down
his brush on the floor, said, "Bother!" and "O blow!" and also "Hang
spring-cleaning!" and bolted out of the house without even waiting to
put on his coat. Something up above was calling him imperiously, and
he made for the steep little tunnel which answered in his case to the
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 muttering to himself,
"Up we go! Up we go!" till at last, pop! his snout came out into the
sunlight and he found himself rolling in the warm grass of a great
meadow.
"This is fine!" he said to himself. "This is better than whitewashing!"
The sunshine struck hot on his fur, soft breezes caressed his heated
brow, and after the seclusion of the cellarage he had lived in so long
the carol of happy birds fell on his dulled hearing almost like a shout.
Jumping off all his four legs at once, in the joy of living and the
delight of spring without its cleaning, he pursued his way across the
meadow till he reached the hedge on the further side.
"Hold up!" said an elderly rabbit at the gap. "Sixpence for the
privilege of passing by the private road!" He was bowled over in an
instant by the impatient and contemptuous Mole, who trotted along the
side of the hedge chaffing the other rabbits as they peeped hurriedly
from their holes to see what the row was about. "Onion-sauce!
Onion-sauce!" he remarked jeeringly, and was gone before they could
think of a thoroughly satisfactory reply. Then they all started
grumbling at each other. "How _stupid_ you are! Why didn't you tell
him--" "Well, why didn't _you_ say--" "You might have reminded him--"
and so on, in the usual way; but, of course, it was then much too
late, as is always the case.
It all seemed too good to be true. Hither and thither through the meadows
he rambled busily, along the hedgerows, across the copses, finding
everywhere birds building, flowers budding, leaves thrusting--everything
happy, and progressive, and occupied. And instead of having an uneasy
conscience pricking him and whispering "whitewash!" he somehow could only
feel how jolly it was to be the only idle dog among all these busy
citizens. After all, the best part of a holiday is perhaps not so much
to be resting yourself, as to see all the other fellows busy working.
He thought his happiness was complete when, as he meandered aimlessly
along, suddenly he stood by the edge of a full-fed river. Never in his
life had he seen a river before--this sleek, sinuous, full-bodied
animal, chasing and chuckling, gripping things with a gurgle and
leaving them with a laugh, to fling itself on fresh playmates that
shook themselves free, and were caught and held again. All was a-shake
and a-shiver--glints and gleams and sparkles, rustle and swirl,
chatter and bubble. The Mole was bewitched, entranced, fascinated. By
the side of the river he trotted as one trots, when very small, by the
side of a man who holds one 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 above the water's edge, caught his eye, and
dreamily he fell to considering what a nice, snug dwelling-place it
would make for an animal with few wants and fond of a bijou riverside
residence, above flood level and remote from noise and dust. As he
gazed, something bright and small seemed to twinkle down in the heart
of it, vanished, then twinkled once more like a tiny star. But it
could hardly be a star in such an unlikely situation; and it was too
glittering and small for a glow-worm. Then, as he looked, it winked at
him, and so declared itself to be an eye; and a small face began
gradually to grow up round it, like a frame round a picture.
A brown little face, with whiskers.
A grave round face, with the same twinkle in its eye that had first
attracted his notice.
Small neat ears and thick silky hair.
It was the Water Rat!
Then the two animals stood and regarded each other cautiously.
"Hullo, Mole!" said the Water Rat.
"Hullo, Rat!" said the Mole.
"Would you like to come over?" enquired the Rat presently.
"Oh, 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 unfastened a rope and hauled on
it; then lightly stepped into a little boat which the Mole had not
observed. It was painted blue outside and white within, and was just
the size for two animals; and the Mole's whole heart went out to it at
once, even though he did not yet fully understand its uses.
The Rat sculled smartly across and made fast. Then he held up his
fore-paw 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."
[Illustration: _It was the Water Rat_]
"What?" cried the Rat, open-mouthed: "Never been in a--you never--well
I--what have you been doing, then?"
"Is it so nice as all that?" asked the Mole shyly, though he was quite
prepared to believe it as he leant back in his seat and surveyed the
cushions, the oars, the rowlocks, and all the fascinating fittings,
and felt the boat sway lightly under him.
"Nice? It's the _only_ thing," said the Water Rat solemnly as he leant
forward for his stroke. "Believe me, my young friend, there is
_nothing_--absolute nothing--half so much worth doing as simply
messing about in boats. Simply messing," he went on dreamily:
"messing--about--in--boats; messing--"
"Look ahead, Rat!" cried the Mole suddenly.
It was too late. The boat struck the bank full tilt. The dreamer, the
joyous oarsman, lay on his back at the bottom of the boat, his heels
in the air.
"--about in boats--or _with_ boats," the Rat went on composedly,
picking himself up with a pleasant laugh. "In or out of 'em, it
doesn't matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that's the charm of
it. Whether you get away, or whether you don't; whether you arrive at
your destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you
never get anywhere at all, you're always busy, and you never do
anything in particular; and when you've done it there's always
something else to do, and you can do it if you like, but you'd much
better not. Look here! If you've really nothing else on hand this
morning, supposing we drop down the river together, and have a long
day of it?"
The Mole waggled his toes from sheer happiness, spread his chest with
a sigh of full contentment, and leant back blissfully into the soft
cushions. "_What_ a day I'm having!" he said. "Let us start at once!"
"Hold hard a minute, then!" said the Rat. He looped the painter
through a ring in his landing-stage, climbed up into his hole above,
and after a short interval reappeared staggering under a fat wicker
luncheon-basket.
"Shove that under your feet," he observed to the Mole, as he passed it
down into the boat. Then he untied the painter and took the sculls
again.
"What's inside it?" asked the Mole, wriggling with curiosity.
"There's cold chicken inside it," replied the Rat briefly:
"coldtonguecoldhamcoldbeefpickledgherkinssaladfrenchrollscresssandwiches
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 remarked after some half
an hour or so had passed. "I'm going to get a black velvet smoking-suit
myself some day, as soon as I can afford it."
"I beg your pardon," said the Mole, pulling himself together with an
effort. "You must think me very rude; but all this is so new to me.
So--this--is--a--River!"
"_The_ River," corrected the Rat.
"And you really live by the river? What a jolly life!"
"By it and with it and on it and in it," said the Rat. "It's brother
and sister to me, and aunts, and company, and food and drink, and
(naturally) washing. It's my world, and I don't want any other. What
it hasn't got is not worth having, and what it doesn't know is not
worth knowing. Lord! the times we've had together! Whether in winter
or summer, spring or autumn, it's always got its fun and its
excitements. When the floods are on in February, and my cellars and
basement are brimming with drink that's no good to me, and the brown
water runs by my best bedroom window; or again when it all drops away
and shows patches of mud that smells like plum-cake, and the rushes
and weed clog the channels, and I can potter about dry shod over most
of the bed of it and find fresh food to eat, and things careless
people have dropped out of boats!"
"But isn't it a bit dull at times?" the Mole ventured to ask. "Just
you and the river, and no one else to pass a word with?"
"No one else to--well, I mustn't be hard on you," said the Rat with
forbearance. "You're new to it, and of course you don't know. The bank
is so crowded nowadays that many people are moving away altogether. O
no, it isn't what it used to be, at all. Otters, king-fishers,
dabchicks, moorhens, all of them about all day long and always wanting
you to _do_ something--as if a fellow had no business of his own to
attend to!"
"What lies over _there_?" asked the Mole, waving a paw towards a
background of woodland that darkly framed the water-meadows on one
side of the river.
"That? O, that's just the Wild Wood," said the Rat shortly. "We don't
go there very much, we river-bankers."
"Aren't they--aren't they very _nice_ people in there?" said the Mole
a trifle nervously.
"W-e-ll," replied the Rat, "let me see. The squirrels are all right.
_And_ the rabbits--some of 'em, but rabbits are a mixed lot. And then
there's Badger, of course. He lives right in the heart of it; wouldn't
live anywhere else, either, if you paid him to do it. Dear old Badger!
Nobody interferes with _him_. They'd better not," he added
significantly.
"Why, who _should_ interfere with him?" asked the Mole.
"Well, of course--there--are others," explained the Rat in a hesitating
sort of way. "Weasels--and stoats--and foxes--and so on. They're all right
in a way--I'm very good friends with them--pass the time of day when we
meet, and all that--but they break out sometimes, there's no denying it,
and then--well, you can't really trust them, and that's the fact."
The Mole knew well that it is quite against animal-etiquette to dwell
on possible trouble ahead, or even to allude to it; so he dropped the
subject.
"And beyond the Wild Wood again?" he asked; "where it's all blue and
dim, and one sees what may be hills or perhaps they mayn't, and
something like the smoke of towns, or is it only cloud-drift?"
"Beyond the Wild Wood comes the Wide World," said the Rat. "And that's
something that doesn't matter, either to you or me. I've never been
there, and I'm never going, nor you either, if you've got any sense at
all. Don't ever refer to it again, please. Now then! Here's our
backwater at last, where we're going to lunch."
Leaving the main stream, they now passed into what seemed at first
sight like a little landlocked lake. Green turf sloped down to either
edge, brown snaky tree-roots gleamed below the surface of the quiet
water, while ahead of them the silvery shoulder and foamy tumble of a
weir, arm-in-arm with a restless dripping mill-wheel, that held up in
its turn a grey-gabled mill-house, filled the air with a soothing
murmur of sound, dull and smothery, yet with little clear voices
speaking up cheerfully out of it at intervals. It was so very
beautiful that the Mole could only hold up both fore-paws and gasp: "O
my! O my! O my!"
The Rat brought the boat alongside the bank, made her fast, helped the
still awkward Mole safely ashore, and swung out the luncheon-basket.
The Mole begged as a favour to be allowed to unpack it all by himself;
and the Rat was very pleased to indulge him, and to sprawl at full
length on the grass and rest, while his excited friend shook out the
table-cloth and spread it, took out all the mysterious packets one by
one and arranged their contents in due order, still gasping: "O my! O
my!" at each fresh revelation. When all was ready, the Rat said, "Now,
pitch in, old fellow!" and the Mole was indeed very glad to obey, for
he had started his spring-cleaning at a very early hour that morning,
as people _will_ do, and had not paused for bite or sup; and he had
been through a very great deal since that distant time which now
seemed so many days ago.
"What are you looking at?" said the Rat presently, when the edge of
their hunger was somewhat dulled, and the Mole's eyes were able to
wander off the table-cloth a little.
"I am looking," said the Mole, "at a streak of bubbles that I see
travelling along the surface of the water. That is a thing that
strikes me as funny."
"Bubbles? Oho!" said the Rat, and chirruped cheerily in an inviting
sort of way.
A broad glistening muzzle showed itself above the edge of the bank,
and the Otter hauled himself out and shook the water from his coat.
"Greedy beggars!" he observed, making for the provender. "Why didn't
you invite me, Ratty?"
"This was an impromptu affair," explained the Rat. "By the way--my
friend Mr. Mole."
"Proud, I'm sure," said the Otter, and the two animals were friends
forthwith.
"Such a rumpus everywhere!" continued the Otter. "All the world seems
out on the river to-day. I came up this backwater to try and get a
moment's peace, and then stumble upon you fellows!--At least--I beg
pardon--I don't exactly mean that, you know."
There was a rustle behind them, proceeding from a hedge wherein last
year's leaves still clung thick, and a stripy head, with high
shoulders behind it, peered forth on them.
"Come on, old Badger!" shouted the Rat.
The Badger trotted forward a pace or two, then grunted, "H'm!
Company," and turned his back and disappeared from view.
"That's _just_ the sort of fellow he is!" observed the disappointed
Rat. "Simply hates Society! Now we shan't see any more of him to-day.
Well, tell us, _who's_ out on the river?"
"Toad's out, for one," replied the Otter. "In his brand-new wager-boat;
new togs, new everything!"
The two animals looked at each other and laughed.
"Once, it was nothing but sailing," said the Rat. "Then he tired of
that and took to punting. Nothing would please him but to punt all day
and every day, and a nice mess he made of it. Last year it was
house-boating, and we all had to go and stay with him in his
house-boat, and pretend we liked it. He was going to spend the rest of
his life in a house-boat. It's all the same, whatever he takes up; he
gets tired of it, and starts on something fresh."
"Such a good fellow, too," remarked the Otter reflectively; "but no
stability--especially in a boat!"
From where they sat they could get a glimpse of the main stream across
the island that separated them; and just then a wager-boat flashed
into view, the rower--a short, stout figure--splashing badly and
rolling a good deal, but working his hardest. The Rat stood up and
hailed him, but Toad--for it was he--shook his head and settled
sternly to his work.
"He'll be out of the boat in a minute if he rolls like that," said the
Rat, sitting down again.
"Of course he will," chuckled the Otter. "Did I ever tell you that
good story about Toad and the lock-keeper? It happened this way.
Toad...."
An errant May-fly swerved unsteadily athwart the current in the
intoxicated fashion affected by young bloods of May-flies seeing
life. A swirl of water and a "cloop!" and the May-fly was visible no
more.
Neither was the Otter.
The Mole looked down. The voice was still in his ears, but the turf
whereon he had sprawled was clearly vacant. Not an Otter to be seen,
as far as the distant horizon.
But again there was a streak of bubbles on the surface of the river.
The Rat hummed a tune, and the Mole recollected that animal-etiquette
forbade any sort of comment on the sudden disappearance of one's
friends at any moment, for any reason or no reason whatever.
"Well, well," said the Rat, "I suppose we ought to be moving. I wonder
which of us had better pack the luncheon-basket?" He did not speak as
if he was frightfully eager for the treat.
"O, please let me," said the Mole. So, of course, the Rat let him.
Packing the basket was not quite such pleasant work as unpacking the
basket. It never is. But the Mole was bent on enjoying everything,
and although just when he had got the basket packed and strapped up
tightly he saw a plate staring up at him from the grass, and when the
job had been done again the Rat pointed out a fork which anybody ought
to have seen, and last of all, behold! the mustard pot, which he had
been sitting on without knowing it--still, somehow, the thing got
finished at last, without much loss of temper.
The afternoon sun was getting low as the Rat sculled gently homewards
in a dreamy mood, murmuring poetry-things over to himself, and not
paying much attention to Mole. But the Mole was very full of lunch,
and self-satisfaction, and pride, and already quite at home in a boat
(so he thought), and was getting a bit restless besides: and presently
he said, "Ratty! Please, _I_ want to row, now!"
The Rat shook his head with a smile. "Not yet, my young friend," he
said; "wait till you've had a few lessons. It's not so easy as it
looks."
The Mole was quiet for a minute or two. But he began to feel more and
more jealous of Rat, sculling so strongly and so easily along, and his
pride began to whisper that he could do it every bit as well. He
jumped up and seized the sculls so suddenly that the Rat, who was
gazing out over the water and saying more poetry-things to himself,
was taken by surprise and fell backwards off his seat with his legs in
the air for the second time, while the triumphant Mole took his place
and grabbed the sculls with entire confidence.
"Stop it, you _silly_ ass!" cried the Rat, from the bottom of the
boat. "You can't do it! You'll have us over!"
The Mole flung his sculls back with a flourish, and made a great dig
at the water. He missed the surface altogether, his legs flew up above
his head, and he found himself lying on the top of the prostrate Rat.
Greatly alarmed, he made a grab at the side of the boat, and the next
moment--Sploosh!
Over went the boat, and he found himself struggling in the river.
O my, how cold the water was, and O, how _very_ wet it felt! How it
sang in his ears as he went down, down, down! How bright and welcome
the sun looked as he rose to the surface coughing and spluttering! How
black was his despair when he felt himself sinking again! Then a firm
paw gripped him by the back of his neck. It was the Rat, and he was
evidently laughing--the Mole could _feel_ him laughing, right down his
arm and through his paw, and so into his--the Mole's--neck.
The Rat got hold of a scull and shoved it under the Mole's arm; then
he did the same by the other side of him and, swimming behind,
propelled the helpless animal to shore, hauled him out, and set him
down on the bank, a squashy, pulpy lump of misery.
When the Rat had rubbed him down a bit, and wrung some of the wet out
of him, he said, "Now then, old fellow! Trot up and down the
towing-path as hard as you can, till you're warm and dry again, while
I dive for the luncheon-basket."
So the dismal Mole, wet without and ashamed within, trotted about till
he was fairly dry, while the Rat plunged into the water again,
recovered the boat, righted her and made her fast, fetched his
floating property to shore by degrees, and finally dived successfully
for the luncheon-basket and struggled to land with it.
When all was ready for a start once more, the Mole, limp and dejected,
took his seat in the stern of the boat; and as they set off, he said
in a low voice, broken with emotion, "Ratty, my generous friend! I am
very sorry indeed for my foolish and ungrateful conduct. My heart
quite fails me when I think how I might have lost that beautiful
luncheon-basket. Indeed, I have been a complete ass, and I know it.
Will you overlook it this once and forgive me, and let things go on as
before?"
"That's all right, bless you!" responded the Rat cheerily. "What's a
little wet to a Water Rat? I'm more in the water than out of it most
days. Don't you think any more about it; and look here! I really think
you had better come and stop with me for a little time. It's very
plain and rough, you know--not like Toad's house at all--but you
haven't seen that yet; still, I can make you comfortable. And I'll
teach you to row and to swim, and you'll soon be as handy on the water
as any of us."
The Mole was so touched by his kind manner of speaking that he could
find no voice to answer him; and he had to brush away a tear or two
with the back of his paw. But the Rat kindly looked in another
direction, and presently the Mole's spirits revived again, and he was
even able to give some straight back-talk to a couple of moorhens who
were sniggering to each other about his bedraggled appearance.
When they got home, the Rat made a bright fire in the parlour, and
planted the Mole in an arm-chair in front of it, having fetched down a
dressing-gown and slippers for him, and told him river stories till
supper-time. Very thrilling stories they were, too, to an earth-dwelling
animal like Mole. Stories about weirs, and sudden floods, and leaping
pike, and steamers that flung hard bottles--at least bottles were
certainly flung, and _from_ steamers, so presumably _by_ them; and
about herons, and how particular they were whom they spoke to; and about
adventures down drains, and night-fishings with Otter, or excursions far
a-field with Badger. Supper was a most cheerful meal; but very shortly
afterwards a terribly sleepy Mole had to be escorted upstairs by his
considerate host, to the best bedroom, where he soon laid his head on
his pillow in great peace and contentment, knowing that his new-found
friend, the River, was lapping the sill of his window.
This day was only the first of many similar ones for the emancipated
Mole, each of them longer and full of interest as the ripening summer
moved onward. He learnt to swim and to row, and entered into the joy
of running water; and with his ear to the reed-stems he caught, at
intervals, something of what the wind went whispering so constantly
among them.
II
THE OPEN ROAD
"Ratty," said the Mole suddenly, one bright summer morning, "if you
please, I want to ask you a favour."
The Rat was sitting on the river bank, singing a little song. He had
just composed it himself, so he was very taken up with it, and would
not pay proper attention to Mole or anything else. Since early morning
he had been swimming in the river, in company with his friends, the
ducks. And when the ducks stood on their heads suddenly, as ducks
will, he would dive down and tickle their necks, just under where
their chins would be if ducks had chins, till they were forced to come
to the surface again in a hurry, spluttering and angry and shaking
their feathers at him, for it is impossible to say quite _all_ you
feel when your head is under water. At last they implored him to go
away and attend to his own affairs and leave them to mind theirs. So
the Rat went away, and sat on the river bank in the sun, and made up a
song about them, which he called:
"DUCKS' DITTY."
All along the backwater,
Through the rushes tall,
Ducks are a-dabbling,
Up tails all!
Ducks' tails, drakes' tails,
Yellow feet a-quiver,
Yellow bills all out of sight
Busy in the river!
Slushy green undergrowth
Where the roach swim--
Here we keep our larder,
Cool and full and dim.
Everyone for what he likes!
_We_ like to be
Heads down, tails up,
Dabbling free!
High in the blue above
Swifts whirl and call--
_We_ are down a-dabbling
Up tails all!
"I don't know that I think so _very_ much of that little song, Rat,"
observed the Mole cautiously. He was no poet himself and didn't care
who knew it; and he had a candid nature.
"Nor don't the ducks neither," replied the Rat cheerfully. "They say,
'_Why_ can't fellows be allowed to do what they like _when_ they like
and _as_ they like, instead of other fellows sitting on banks and
watching them all the time and making remarks and poetry and things
about them? What _nonsense_ it all is!' That's what the ducks say."
"So it is, so it is," said the Mole, with great heartiness.
"No, it isn't!" cried the Rat indignantly.
"Well then, it isn't, it isn't," replied the Mole soothingly. "But what
I wanted to ask you was, won't you take me to call on Mr. Toad? I've
heard so much about him, and I do so want to make his acquaintance."
"Why, certainly," said the good-natured Rat, jumping to his feet and
dismissing poetry from his mind for the day. "Get the boat out, and
we'll paddle up there at once. It's never the wrong time to call on
Toad. Early or late, he's always the same fellow. Always good-tempered,
always glad to see you, always sorry when you go!"
"He must be a very nice animal," observed the Mole, as he got into the
boat and took the sculls, while the Rat settled himself comfortably in
the stern.
"He is indeed the best of animals," replied Rat. "So simple, so
good-natured, and so affectionate. Perhaps he's not very clever--we
can't all be geniuses; and it may be that he is both boastful and
conceited. But he has got some great qualities, has Toady."
Rounding a bend in the river, they came in sight of a handsome,
dignified old house of mellowed red brick, with well-kept lawns
reaching down to the water's edge.
"There's Toad Hall," said the Rat; "and that creek on the left, where
the notice-board says, 'Private. No landing allowed,' leads to his
boat-house, where we'll leave the boat. The stables are over there to
the right. That's the banqueting-hall you're looking at now--very
old, that is. Toad is rather rich, you know, and this is really one of
the nicest houses in these parts, though we never admit as much to
Toad."
They glided up the creek, and the Mole 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 an introduction
to the Mole. "How _kind_ of you!" he went on, dancing round them. "I was
just going to send a boat down the river for you, Ratty, with strict
orders that you were to be fetched up here at once, whatever you were
doing. I want you badly--both of you. Now what will you take? Come
inside and have something! You don't know how lucky it is, your
turning up just now!"
"Let's sit quiet a bit, Toady!" said the Rat, throwing himself into an
easy chair, while the Mole took another by the side of him and made
some civil remark about Toad's "delightful residence."
"Finest house on the whole river," cried Toad boisterously. "Or
anywhere else, for that matter," he could not help adding.
Here the Rat nudged the Mole. Unfortunately the Toad saw him do it, and
turned very red. There was a moment's painful silence. Then Toad burst
out laughing. "All right, Ratty," he said. "It's only my way, you know.
And it's not such a very bad house, is it? You know, you rather like it
yourself. Now, look here. Let's be sensible. You are the very animals I
wanted. You've got to help me. It's most important!"
"It's about your rowing, I suppose," said the Rat, with an innocent
air. "You're getting on fairly well, though you splash a good bit
still. With a great deal of patience and any quantity of coaching, you
may--"
"O, pooh! boating!" interrupted the Toad, in great disgust. "Silly
boyish amusement. I've given that up _long_ ago. Sheer waste of time,
that's what it is. It makes me downright sorry to see you fellows, who
ought to know better, spending all your energies in that aimless manner.
No, I've discovered the real thing, the only genuine occupation for a
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 accordingly, the Rat following with
a most mistrustful expression; and there, drawn out of the coach-house
into the open, they saw a gipsy caravan, shining with newness, painted
a canary-yellow picked out with green, and red wheels.
"There you are!" cried the Toad, straddling and expanding himself.
"There's real life for you, embodied in that little cart. The open
road, the dusty highway, the heath, the common, the hedgerows, the
rolling downs! Camps, villages, towns, cities! Here to-day, up and off
to somewhere else to-morrow! Travel, change, interest, excitement! The
whole world before you, and a horizon that's always changing! And
mind! this is the very finest cart of its sort that was ever built,
without any exception. Come inside and look at the arrangements.
Planned 'em all myself, I did!"
The Mole was tremendously interested and excited, and followed him
eagerly up the steps and into the interior of the caravan. The Rat
only snorted and thrust his hands deep into his pockets, remaining
where he was.
It was indeed very compact and comfortable. Little sleeping bunks--a
little table that folded up against the wall--a cooking-stove,
lockers, 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 dominoes--you'll find," he continued, as they descended the
steps again, "you'll find that nothing 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
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'll always stick to you,
Rat, and what you say is to be--has got to be. All the same, it sounds
as if it might have been--well, rather fun, you know!" he added
wistfully. Poor Mole! The Life Adventurous was so new a thing to him,
and so thrilling; and this fresh aspect of it was so tempting; and he
had fallen in love at first sight with the canary-coloured cart and
all its little fitments.
The Rat saw what was passing in his mind, and wavered. He hated
disappointing people, and he was fond of the Mole, and would do
almost anything to oblige him. Toad was watching both of them closely.
"Come along in, and have some lunch," he said, diplomatically, "and
we'll talk it over. We needn't decide anything in a hurry. Of course,
_I_ don't really care. I only want to give pleasure to you fellows.
'Live for others!' That's my motto in life."
During luncheon--which was excellent, of course, as everything at Toad
Hall always was--the Toad simply let himself go. Disregarding the Rat,
he proceeded to play upon the inexperienced Mole as on a harp.
Naturally a voluble animal, and always mastered by his imagination, he
painted the prospects of the trip and the joys of the open life and
the roadside in such glowing colours that the Mole could hardly sit in
his chair for excitement. Somehow, it soon seemed taken for granted by
all three of them that the trip was a settled thing; and the Rat,
though still unconvinced in his mind, allowed his good-nature to
over-ride his personal objections. He could not bear to disappoint his
two friends, who were already deep in schemes and anticipations,
planning out each day's separate occupation for several weeks ahead.
When they were quite ready, the now triumphant Toad led his companions
to the paddock and set them to capture the old grey horse, who,
without having been consulted, and to his own extreme annoyance, had
been told off by Toad for the dustiest job in this dusty expedition.
He frankly preferred the paddock, and took a deal of catching.
Meantime Toad packed the lockers still tighter with necessaries, and
hung 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
beautiful cart; and rabbits, sitting at their front doors in the
hedgerows, held up their fore-paws, and said, "O my! O my! O my!"
Late in the evening, tired and happy and miles from home, they drew up
on a remote common far from habitations, turned the horse loose to
graze, and ate their simple supper sitting on the grass by the side of
the cart. Toad talked big about all he was going to do in the days to
come, while stars grew fuller and larger all around them, and a yellow
moon, appearing suddenly and silently from nowhere in particular, came
to keep them company and listen to their talk. At last they turned in
to their little bunks in the cart; and Toad, kicking out his legs,
sleepily said, "Well, good night, you fellows! This is the real life
for a gentleman! Talk about your old river!"
"I _don't_ talk about my river," replied the patient Rat. "You _know_
I don't, Toad. But I _think_ about it," he added pathetically, in a
lower tone: "I think about it--all the time!"
The Mole reached out from under his blanket, felt for the Rat's paw in
the darkness, and gave it a squeeze. "I'll do whatever you like,
Ratty," he whispered. "Shall we run away to-morrow morning, quite
early--_very_ early--and go back to our dear old hole on the river?"
"No, no, we'll see it out," whispered back the Rat. "Thanks awfully,
but I ought to stick by Toad till this trip is ended. It wouldn't be
safe for him to be left to himself. It won't take very long. His fads
never do. Good night!"
The end was indeed nearer than even the Rat suspected.
After so much open air and excitement the Toad slept very soundly, and
no amount of shaking could rouse him out of bed next morning. So the
Mole and Rat turned to, quietly and manfully, and while the Rat saw to
the horse, and lit a fire, and cleaned last night's cups and platters,
and got things ready for breakfast, the Mole trudged off to the
nearest village, a long way off, for milk and eggs and various
necessaries the Toad had, of course, forgotten to provide. The hard
work had all been done, and the two animals were resting, thoroughly
exhausted, by the time Toad appeared on the scene, fresh and gay,
remarking what a pleasant, easy life it was they were all leading now,
after the cares and worries and fatigues of housekeeping at home.
They had a pleasant ramble that day over grassy downs and along narrow
by-lanes, and camped, as before, on a common, only this time the two
guests took care that Toad should do his fair share of work. In
consequence, when the time came for starting next morning, Toad was by
no means so rapturous about the simplicity of the primitive life, and
indeed attempted to resume his place in his bunk, whence he was hauled
by force. Their way lay, as before, across country by narrow lanes,
and it was not till the afternoon that they came out on the high-road,
their first high-road; and there disaster, fleet and unforeseen,
sprang out on them--disaster momentous indeed to their expedition, but
simply overwhelming in its effect on the after career of Toad.
They were strolling along the high-road easily, the Mole by the
horse's head, talking to him, since the horse had complained that he
was being frightfully left out of it, and nobody considered him in
the least; the Toad and the Water Rat walking behind the cart talking
together--at least Toad was talking, and Rat was saying at intervals,
"Yes, precisely; and what did _you_ say to _him_?"--and thinking all
the time of something very different, when far behind them they heard
a faint warning hum, like the drone of a distant bee. Glancing back,
they saw a small cloud of dust, with a dark centre of energy,
advancing on them at incredible speed, while from out the dust a faint
"Poop-poop!" wailed like an uneasy animal in pain. Hardly regarding
it, they turned to resume their conversation, when in an instant (as
it seemed) the peaceful scene was changed, and with a blast of wind
and a whirl of sound that made them jump for the nearest ditch. It was
on them! The "Poop-poop" rang with a brazen shout in their ears, they
had a moment's glimpse of an interior of glittering plate-glass and
rich morocco, and the magnificent motor-car, immense, breath-snatching,
passionate, with its pilot tense and hugging his wheel, possessed all
earth and air for the fraction of a second, flung an enveloping cloud
of dust that blinded and enwrapped them utterly, and then dwindled to
a speck in the far distance, changed back into a droning bee once more.
The old grey horse, dreaming, as he plodded along, of his quiet
paddock, in a new raw situation such as this, simply abandoned himself
to his natural emotions. Rearing, plunging, backing steadily, in spite
of all the Mole's efforts at his head, and all the Mole's lively
language directed at his better feelings, he drove the cart 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 villains!" he shouted, shaking both fists. "You scoundrels, you
highwaymen, you--you--road-hogs!--I'll have the law of you! I'll report
you! I'll take you through all the Courts!" His home-sickness had quite
slipped away from him, and for the moment he was the skipper of the
canary-coloured vessel driven on a shoal by the reckless jockeying of
rival mariners, and he was trying to recollect all the fine and biting
things he used to say to masters of steam-launches when their wash, as
they drove too near the bank, used to flood his parlour-carpet at home.
Toad sat straight down in the middle of the dusty road, his legs
stretched out before him, and stared fixedly in the direction of the
disappearing motor-car. He breathed short, his face wore a placid,
satisfied expression, and at intervals he faintly murmured "Poop-poop!"
The Mole was busy trying to quiet the horse, which he succeeded in
doing after a time. Then he went to look at the cart, on its side in
the ditch. It was indeed a sorry sight. Panels and windows smashed,
axles hopelessly bent, one wheel off, sardine-tins scattered over the
wide world, and the bird in the bird-cage sobbing pitifully and
calling to be let out.
The Rat came to help him, but their united efforts were not sufficient
to right the cart. "Hi! Toad!" they cried. "Come and bear a hand,
can't you!"
The Toad never answered a word, or budged from his seat in the road;
so they went to see what was the matter with him. They found him in a
sort of a trance, a happy smile on his face, his eyes still fixed on
the dusty wake of their destroyer. At intervals he was still heard to
murmur "Poop-poop!"
The Rat shook him by the shoulder. "Are you coming to help us, Toad?"
he demanded sternly.
"Glorious, stirring sight!" murmured Toad, never offering to move.
"The poetry of motion! The _real_ way to travel! The _only_ way to
travel! Here to-day--in next week to-morrow! Villages skipped, towns
and cities jumped--always somebody else's horizon! O bliss! O
poop-poop! O my! O my!"
"O _stop_ being an ass, Toad!" cried the Mole despairingly.
"And to think I never _knew_!" went on the Toad in a dreamy monotone.
"All those wasted years that lie behind me, I never knew, never even
_dreamt_! But _now_--but now that I know, now that I fully realise! O
what a flowery track lies spread before me, henceforth! What
dust-clouds shall spring up behind me as I speed on my reckless way!
What carts I shall fling carelessly into the ditch in the wake of my
magnificent onset! Horrid little carts--common carts--canary-coloured
carts!"
"What are we to do with him?" asked the Mole of the Water Rat.
"Nothing at all," replied the Rat firmly. "Because there is really
nothing to be done. You see, I know him from of old. He is now
possessed. He has got a new craze, and it always takes him that way,
in its first stage. He'll continue like that for days now, like an
animal walking in a happy dream, quite useless for all practical
purposes. Never mind him. Let's go and see what there is to be done
about the cart."
A careful inspection showed them that, even if they succeeded in
righting it by themselves, the cart would travel no longer. The axles
were in a hopeless state, and the missing wheel was shattered into
pieces.
The Rat knotted the horse's reins over his back and took him by the
head, carrying the bird-cage and its hysterical occupant in the other
hand. "Come on!" he said grimly to the Mole. "It's five or six miles
to the nearest town, and we shall just have to walk it. The sooner we
make a start the better."
"But what about Toad?" asked the Mole anxiously, as they set off
together. "We can't leave him here, sitting in the middle of the road
by himself, in the distracted state he's in! It's not safe. Supposing
another Thing were to come along?"
"O, _bother_ Toad," said the Rat savagely; "I've done with him."
They had not proceeded very far on their way, however, when there was
a pattering of feet behind them, and Toad caught them up and thrust a
paw inside the elbow of each of them; still breathing short and
staring into vacancy.
"Now, look here, Toad!" said the Rat sharply: "as soon as we get to
the town, you'll have to go straight to the police-station and see if
they know anything about that motor-car and who it belongs to, and
lodge a complaint against it. And then you'll have to go to a
blacksmith's or a wheelwright's and arrange for the cart to be fetched
and mended and put to rights. It'll take time, but it's not quite a
hopeless smash. Meanwhile, the Mole and I will go to an inn and find
comfortable rooms where we can stay till the cart's ready, and till
your nerves have recovered their shock."
"Police-station! Complaint!" murmured Toad dreamily. "Me _complain_ of
that beautiful, that heavenly vision that has been vouchsafed me!
_Mend_ the _cart_! I've done with carts for ever. I never want to see
the cart, or to hear of it, again. O Ratty! You can't think how
obliged I am to you for consenting to come on this trip! I wouldn't
have gone without you, and then I might never have seen that--that
swan, that sunbeam, that thunderbolt! I might never have heard that
entrancing sound, or smelt that bewitching smell! I owe it all to you,
my best of friends!"
[Illustration: _"Come on!" he said. "We shall just have to walk it"_]
The Rat turned from him in despair. "You see what it is?" he said
to the Mole, addressing him across Toad's head: "He's quite hopeless.
I give it up--when we get to the town we'll go to the railway station,
and with luck we may pick up a train there that'll get us back to
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 their own cosy riverside parlour, to the
Rat's great joy and contentment.