HOW WE FOUND A FEAST.
I remained in the Zoological Gardens for a few weeks, improving my
acquaintance with the mild Zibethicus and the gentle Lemmings. As for
the German Hamster, he became so drowsy as the weather grew colder,
that it became evident that he could sleep day and night upon boards,
though he never fell into the perfectly torpid, almost dead state
that he would have done, could he have been humoured by being buried
alive.
I should willingly have remained longer in the gardens, but the keepers
were taking such stringent measures to get rid of rats, that we thought
it better to remove on our own four feet while we could, instead of
being carried in a bag, a kind of conveyance for which we had no fancy.
We therefore set out on our journey homewards.
We again chose the underland route, lest we should meet with dogs and
cats in the streets, or be crushed beneath rolling wheels. We had not
gone far, however, when Whiskerandos suddenly stopped.
"I feel hungry," said he.
"So do I," rejoined I.
"We must find our way into one of the houses," observed the bold rat;
"let's turn down this passage, it doubtless leads to some kitchen."
Down the passage we accordingly turned, Whiskerandos, as usual, going
first; but we were met, almost at the entrance, by two savage brown
rats, who did not seem disposed to allow us to pass.
"Pray, does this passage lead to a kitchen?" said Whiskerandos, not
appearing to notice their sharp teeth and gleaming eyes.
"Yes," replied one; "but the passage, and the house, and the kitchen,
belong to us, and we let no one share in our rights."
"Any one who attempts to pass," cried the other, very fiercely, "has to
pay us toll with his ears!"
"Well, my good friends," replied Whiskerandos, "notwithstanding the
darkness I have no doubt but that your bright eyes have observed that I
have paid that toll already, and that is a kind of toll which no one is
expected to pay twice." The brown rats looked at the warrior with keen,
wondering gaze, while Whiskerandos calmly continued, "I lost my ears in
single combat with a ferret; he who exacted the toll lost his life in
exchange, and I feel somehow persuaded that you will rather politely
guide me into your house and share with me whatever I get there, than
try the experiment whether a rat can fight as well without ears as he
once did with them."
This little speech had a most wonderful effect in subduing all
unfriendly and inhospitable feelings on the part of the brown rats
towards the valiant Whiskerandos. They, however, looked very
suspiciously at me, and I fancied that I heard one whisper to the other,
"There's a black rat-- an intruder-- an enemy-- we must tear him in
pieces!"
I felt uncommonly uncomfortable, and much inclined to turn round and
scamper for my life; but Whiskerandos soon ended the difficulty. "Let me
introduce to you my friend Ratto," said he, "my very particular friend,
who goes where I go, shares what I find, and whose safety I value as my
own."
Nothing more was said about tearing me in pieces, so we all proceeded
amicably on our way, till the brown rats led us through a small hole,
and we found ourselves in a large, airy kitchen.
The place was perfectly quiet; the loud ticking of the clock was the
only sound heard, the swing of its pendulum the only motion seen, except
that a few black beetles were creeping on the sanded floor. The fire,
which must have been a very large one, had almost burnt out; but a few
red embers still were glowing, and served to light us on our way,
though, as I have mentioned before, light seems unnecessary to rats.
We peeped about, under the dresser, on the shelves, and snuffed at the
locked door of the larder, but nothing could we discover fit for food.
A jar on a shelf looked tempting enough, but being made, cover and
all, of crockery ware, it defied even our sharp little teeth.
"I've made a discovery!" exclaimed I at last, and at my shout the three
other rats came eagerly running towards the place where I stood
rejoicing by a flask of oil.
"I've seen that flask a dozen times," exclaimed one of the Brownies, in
a tone of angry disappointment; "I have longed to taste its contents,
but how is a rat to get at them?"
Here was a puzzler indeed. But Whiskerandos was ever ready at
expedients. With neat dexterity he extracted the stopper; but here the
difficulty did not end, for the neck of the bottle was too narrow by far
to admit the head of a rat; and the position of the flask, in a wooden
box, rendered it impossible to alter its position so as to pour out its
contents.
"Mighty little use that flask is to us!" exclaimed one of the Brownies,
impatiently.
But my clever rat was not easily discouraged In a moment he had dipped
in his long tail, and then whisking it out again, scattered around a
fragrant shower of oil!
There was no end to the praises and commendations which Whiskerandos
received for this simple device. He took little notice of them, however,
and only playfully observed, "It is Ratto who should have thought of
this, since nature has furnished black rats with two hundred and fifty
distinct rings in their tails, while brown ones have only two hundred."
"Ah, Whiskerandos!" exclaimed I, "this oil is a nice relish to be sure,
but my appetite craves something solid;" and I looked piteously up at
the jar. The other rats looked up piteously also.
"Let us see what we can do!" cried my spirited companion; and he
clambered for the second time up on the shelf on which stood the
tantalizing jar. This time he did not even attempt to nibble at the hard
polished crockery, he wasted not his energies in any such fruitless
endeavour; but, putting his mighty strength to the task, he pushed the
whole jar nearer and nearer to the edge of the shelf, then over it, till
at length it fell with a tremendous crash which made every one of us
leap up high into the air with amazement!
We might have leapt for joy also, for from the broken crockery what a
feast of delicious dried fruits rolled forth! With what glee we set to
our supper, while Whiskerandos sprang from his shelf, too eager to
partake of the tempting repast to take the slower method of climbing.
I must confess that of all pleasures upon earth there is none to a rat
like eating; if such be the case with any of the lords of creation, why
I can only say that they must be content to be reckoned like rats.
We were in the midst of our feast, our mouths full, and our whiskers
merrily wagging, when we were startled by a faint noise at the kitchen
door. A stealthy sound, as of human feet moving slowly and cautiously
along; a timid hand laid softly on the handle of the door; and then a
whispering murmur of voices. We pricked up our ears and stopped eating.
"I am sure that the noise came from the kitchen;-- listen!" said a
timorous voice. So those without listened, and so did we within, when
the clock suddenly striking One, made us all start, and so frightened
the Brownies, that off they scampered into their hole. Whiskerandos and
I retreated some steps, and then remained in an attitude of attention,
while again the whispering began.
"Would it not be safer to call in a policeman?"
"No, no,-- my blunderbuss is loaded, and the villains cannot escape.
You are nervous-- go back, Eliza."
"Dearest-- I'll never leave you to meet the danger alone!"
The handle creaked as it was slowly turned round, and Whiskerandos
exclaiming, "We'd better be off!" followed the example of the Brownies.
Strong curiosity made me linger for a moment, as the door was opened
inch by inch, and I had a glimpse of what to this day I cannot remember
without laughing. One of the lords of the creation slowly advanced
through it, robed in a long red dressing-gown, a candle in one hand,
a loaded blunderbuss in the other, and with a most ludicrous expression
on his pallid face, as though he were making up his mind to kill
somebody, but was a little afraid that somebody might kill him instead!
His wife, looking ghastly in her curl-papers with her eyes and mouth
wide open in fright, was trying to pull him back, and was evidently
terrified to glance round the kitchen, lest some midnight robber should
meet her gaze. Away I scudded, my sides shaking with mirth, leaving the
broken jar and the scattered fruits to tell their own tale, and
wondering with what stories of midnight alarms the valiant husband and
his devoted spouse would amuse their family in the morning.