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'll 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 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 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'll 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 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 continued 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 sunshine, 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
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 Goddess, 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
something. He looked the gipsy over carefully, wondering vaguely
whether it would be easier to fight him or cajole him. So there he
sat, and 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."
"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 countenance.
"A shilling a leg?" cried Toad. "If you 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, 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'll tell you what I will do. I'll make it
five shillings, and that's three-and-sixpence more than the animal's
worth. And that's my last word."
Then Toad sat and pondered long and deeply. For he was hungry and
quite penniless, 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 shillings 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 whatever 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
possibly eat, at one sitting of course, out of that iron pot of yours
that keeps sending forth such 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'll 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
canvas 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 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 directions 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 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, unfortunately, 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 pocketful of money and an excellent breakfast!
Ho, ho! I am The Toad, the handsome, the popular, 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!
"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 approaching
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
sickening 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 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 hailing people in broad day on the
high road, instead 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, "O dear! this is very sad! Here is a poor old thing--a
washerwoman apparently--who has fainted in the road! Perhaps she is
overcome by the heat, poor creature; or possibly she has not had any
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 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 cravings that
rose up and beset him and took possession 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 by the driver, took the
steering-wheel in his hands, listened with affected humility to the
instructions given him, and set the car in motion, 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 annoyed 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 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 animal 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 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 somewhat, 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 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!
O, 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! O 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! Sitting still and gassing again! O my! O my! O
my!"
He glanced back, and saw to his dismay that they were gaining on him.
On he ran desperately, 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
triumphant 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. Presently 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 towards
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"
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
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'll 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, and here
was the thing being begun all over again, apparently; and by a Rat,
too! However, 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 washerwoman.