The day after the Eels left, the pond people talked of nothing else. It
was not that they were so much missed, for the Eels, you know, do not
swim around in the daytime. They lie quietly in the mud and sleep or
talk. It is only at night that they are really lively. Still, as the
Mother Mud Turtle said, "They had known that they were there, and the
mud seemed empty without them."
The larger people had been sorry to have them go, and some of them felt
that without the Eels awake and stirring, the pond was hardly a safe
place at night.
"I think it is a good deal safer," remarked a Minnow, who usually said
what she thought. "I have always believed that the Eels knew what
became of some of my brothers and sisters, although, of course, I do not
know."
"Why didn't you ask them?" said a Stickleback.
"Why?" replied the Minnow. "If I had gone to the Eels and asked them
that, my other brothers and sisters would soon be wondering what had
become of me."
"I have heard some queer things about the Eels myself," said the
Stickleback, "but I have never felt much afraid of them. I suppose I am
braver because I wear so many of my bones on the outside."
Just then a Wise Old Crayfish came along walking sidewise. "What do you
think about the Eels?" asked the Stickleback, turning suddenly to him.
The Crayfish stuck his tail into the mud. He often did this when he was
surprised. It seemed to help him think. When he had thought for a while,
he waved his big pinching-claws and said, "It would be better for me not
to tell what I think. I used to live near them."
This showed that the Wise Old Crayfish had been well brought up, and
knew he should not say unpleasant things about people if he could help
it. When there was need of it, he could tell unpleasant truths, and
indeed that very evening he did say what he thought of the Eels. That
was when he was teaching some young Crayfishes, his pupils. Their mother
had brought up a large family, and was not strong. She had just cast the
shell which she had worn for a year, and now she was weak and helpless
until the new one should harden on her. "It is such a bother," she said,
"to keep changing one's shell in this way, but it is a comfort to think
that the new one will last a year when I do get it."
While their mother was so weak, the Wise Old Crayfish amused the
children, and taught them things which all Crayfishes should know. Every
evening they gathered around him, some of them swimming to him, some
walking forward, some sidewise, and some backward. It made no difference
to them which way they came. They were restless pupils, and their
teacher could not keep them from looking behind them. Each one had so
many eyes that he could look at the teacher with a few, and at the other
little Crayfishes with a few more, and still have a good many eyes left
with which to watch the Tadpoles. These eyes were arranged in two big
bunches, and, unless you looked very closely, you might think that they
had only two eyes apiece. They had good ears, and there were also fine
smelling-bristles growing from their heads. The Wise Old Crayfish
sometimes said that each of his pupils should sit in a circle of six
teachers, so that he might be taught on all sides at once.
"That is the way in which children should learn," he said, "all around
at once. But I do the best I can, and I at least teach one side of
each."
This evening the Wise Old Crayfish was very sleepy. There had been so
much talking and excitement during the day that he had not slept so much
as usual; and now, when he should have been wide awake, he felt
exceedingly dull and stupid. When he tried to walk, his eight legs
stumbled over each other, and the weak way in which he waved his
pinching-claw legs showed how tired he was.
After he had told his pupils the best way to hold their food with their
pinching-claws, and had explained to them how it was chewed by the teeth
in their stomachs, one mischievous little fellow called out, "I want to
know about the Eels. My mother would never let me go near them, and now
they've moved away, and I won't ever see them, and I think it's just
horrid."
"Eels, my children," said their teacher, "are long, slender,
sharp-nosed, slippery people, with a fringe of fins along their backs,
and another fringe along their bellies. They breathe through very small
gill-openings in the backs of their heads. They have large mouths, and
teeth in their mouths, and they are always sticking out their lower
jaws."
"And how do--" began the Biggest Little Crayfish.
"Ask me that to-morrow," said their teacher, stretching his eight
walking legs and his two pinching-claw legs and his tail paddles, "but
remember this one thing:--if you ever see an Eel, _get out of his way_.
Don't stop to look at him."
"We won't," said one little Crayfish, who thought it smart to be saucy.
"We'll look to stop at him." All of which meant nothing at all and was
only said to annoy his teacher.
They scrambled away over the pond-bottom, upsetting Snails, jiggling the
young Clams, and racing with each other where the bottom was smooth.
"Beat you running backward!" cried the Saucy Crayfish to the Biggest
Little Crayfish, and they scampered along backward in the moonlit water.
There was an old log on the bottom of the pond, and they sat on that to
rest. The Biggest Little Crayfish had beaten. "I would like to see an
Eel," said he.
"I'd like to see them running on the land," said the saucy one.
"Pooh!" said the biggest one. "That's all you know! They don't run on
land."
"Well, I guess they do," replied the saucy one. "I know as much about it
as you do!"
"Eels swim. They don't run," said the biggest one. "Guess I know!"
"Well, they don't swim in air," said the saucy one. "That's the stuff
that lies on top of the water and the ground, and people can't swim in
it. So there!"
"Well, I've seen the Wild Ducks swim in it! They swim with their legs in
the water, and with their wings in the air," said the biggest one.
"I don't believe it," said the saucy one. "Anyhow, Eels run on land."
"Eels swim on land," said the biggest one.
"Eels run!"
"Eels swim!"
"Run!"
"Swim!"
Then the two little Crayfishes, who had been talking louder and louder
and becoming more and more angry, glared at each other, and jerked their
feelers, and waved their pinching-claws in a very, very ugly way.
[Illustration: MOTHER EEL OPENED HER BIG MOUTH. _Page 186_]
They did not notice a great green and yellow person swimming gently
toward them, and they did not know that the Eels had come back to live
in the old pond again. Mother Eel opened her big mouth very wide. "On
land," she said decidedly, as she swallowed the Biggest Little Crayfish,
"Eels wriggle." Then she swallowed the Saucy Crayfish.
"There!" said she. "I've stopped that dreadful quarrel." And she looked
around with a satisfied smile.