"Whatever is the matter, Cousin Benjamin? Is it a cat? or John Stoat
Ferret?"
"No, no, no! He's bagged my family--Tommy Brock--in a sack--have you
seen him?"
"Tommy Brock? how many, Cousin Benjamin?"
"Seven, Cousin Peter, and all of them twins! Did he come this way?
Please tell me quick!"
"Yes, yes; not ten minutes since.... he said they were caterpillars; I
did think they were kicking rather hard, for caterpillars."
"Which way? which way has he gone, Cousin Peter?"
"He had a sack with something 'live in it; I watched him set a mole
trap. Let me use my mind, Cousin Benjamin; tell me from the beginning."
Benjamin did so.
"My Uncle Bouncer has displayed a lamentable want of discretion for his
years;" said Peter reflectively, "but there are two hopeful
circumstances. Your family is alive and kicking; and Tommy Brock has had
refreshment. He will probably go to sleep, and keep them for breakfast."
"Which way?" "Cousin Benjamin, compose yourself. I know very well which
way. Because Mr. Tod was at home in the stick-house he has gone to Mr.
Tod's other house, at the top of Bull Banks. I partly know, because he
offered to leave any message at Sister Cottontail's; he said he would be
passing." (Cottontail had married a black rabbit, and gone to live on
the hill).
Peter hid his dandelions, and accompanied the afflicted parent, who was
all of a twitter. They crossed several fields and began to climb the
hill; the tracks of Tommy Brock were plainly to be seen. He seemed to
have put down the sack every dozen yards, to rest.
"He must be very puffed; we are close behind him, by the scent. What a
nasty person!" said Peter.
The sunshine was still warm and slanting on the hill pastures. Half way
up, Cottontail was sitting in her doorway, with four or five half-grown
little rabbits playing about her; one black and the others brown.
Cottontail had seen Tommy Brock passing in the distance. Asked whether
her husband was at home she replied that Tommy Brock had rested twice
while she watched him.
He had nodded, and pointed to the sack, and seemed doubled up with
laughing.--"Come away, Peter; he will be cooking them; come quicker!"
said Benjamin Bunny.
They climbed up and up;--"He was at home; I saw his black ears peeping
out of the hole." "They live too near the rocks to quarrel with their
neighbours. Come on Cousin Benjamin!"
When they came near the wood at the top of Bull Banks, they went
cautiously. The trees grew amongst heaped up rocks; and there, beneath a
crag--Mr. Tod had made one of his homes. It was at the top of a steep
bank; the rocks and bushes overhung it. The rabbits crept up carefully,
listening and peeping.
This house was something between a cave, a prison, and a tumble-down
pig-stye. There was a strong door, which was shut and locked.
The setting sun made the window panes glow like red flame; but the
kitchen fire was not alight. It was neatly laid with dry sticks, as the
rabbits could see, when they peeped through the window.
Benjamin sighed with relief.
But there were preparations upon the kitchen table which made him
shudder. There was an immense empty pie-dish of blue willow pattern, and
a large carving knife and fork, and a chopper.
At the other end of the table was a partly unfolded tablecloth, a plate,
a tumbler, a knife and fork, salt-cellar, mustard and a chair--in short,
preparations for one person's supper.
No person was to be seen, and no young rabbits. The kitchen was empty
and silent; the clock had run down. Peter and Benjamin flattened their
noses against the window, and stared into the dusk.
Then they scrambled round the rocks to the other side of the house. It
was damp and smelly, and over-grown with thorns and briars.
The rabbits shivered in their shoes.
"Oh my poor rabbit babies! What a dreadful place; I shall never see them
again!" sighed Benjamin.
They crept up to the bedroom window. It was closed and bolted like the
kitchen. But there were signs that this window had been recently open;
the cobwebs were disturbed, and there were fresh dirty footmarks upon
the window-sill.
The room inside was so dark, that at first they could make out nothing;
but they could hear a noise--a slow deep regular snoring grunt. And as
their eyes became accustomed to the darkness, they perceived that
somebody was asleep on Mr. Tod's bed, curled up under the blanket.--"He
has gone to bed in his boots," whispered Peter.
Benjamin, who was all of a twitter, pulled Peter off the window-sill.
Tommy Brock's snores continued, grunty and regular from Mr. Tod's bed.
Nothing could be seen of the young family.
The sun had set; an owl began to hoot in the wood. There were many
unpleasant things lying about, that had much better have been buried;
rabbit bones and skulls, and chickens' legs and other horrors. It was a
shocking place, and very dark.
They went back to the front of the house, and tried in every way to move
the bolt of the kitchen window. They tried to push up a rusty nail
between the window sashes; but it was of no use, especially without a
light.
They sat side by side outside the window, whispering and listening.
In half an hour the moon rose over the wood. It shone full and clear and
cold, upon the house amongst the rocks, and in at the kitchen window.
But alas, no little rabbit babies were to be seen!
The moonbeams twinkled on the carving knife and the pie dish, and made a
path of brightness across the dirty floor.
The light showed a little door in a wall beside the kitchen fireplace--a
little iron door belonging to a brick oven, of that old-fashioned sort
that used to be heated with faggots of wood.
And presently at the same moment Peter and Benjamin noticed that
whenever they shook the window--the little door opposite shook in
answer. The young family were alive; shut up in the oven!
Benjamin was so excited that it was a mercy he did not awake Tommy
Brock, whose snores continued solemnly in Mr. Tod's bed.
But there really was not very much comfort in the discovery. They could
not open the window; and although the young family was alive--the little
rabbits were quite incapable of letting themselves out; they were not
old enough to crawl.
After much whispering, Peter and Benjamin decided to dig a tunnel. They
began to burrow a yard or two lower down the bank. They hoped that they
might be able to work between the large stones under the house; the
kitchen floor was so dirty that it was impossible to say whether it was
made of earth or flags.
They dug and dug for hours. They could not tunnel straight on account of
stones; but by the end of the night they were under the kitchen floor.
Benjamin was on his back, scratching upwards. Peter's claws were worn
down; he was outside the tunnel, shuffling sand away. He called out that
it was morning--sunrise; and that the jays were making a noise down
below in the woods.
Benjamin Bunny came out of the dark tunnel, shaking the sand from his
ears; he cleaned his face with his paws. Every minute the sun shone
warmer on the top of the hill. In the valley there was a sea of white
mist, with golden tops of trees showing through.
Again from the fields down below in the mist there came the angry cry of
a jay--followed by the sharp yelping bark of a fox!
Then those two rabbits lost their heads completely. They did the most
foolish thing that they could have done. They rushed into their short
new tunnel, and hid themselves at the top end of it, under Mr. Tod's
kitchen floor.
Mr. Tod was coming up Bull Banks, and he was in the very worst of
tempers. First he had been upset by breaking the plate. It was his own
fault; but it was a china plate, the last of the dinner service that had
belonged to his grandmother, old Vixen Tod. Then the midges had been
very bad. And he had failed to catch a hen pheasant on her nest; and it
had contained only five eggs, two of them addled. Mr. Tod had had an
unsatisfactory night.
As usual, when out of humour, he determined to move house. First he
tried the pollard willow, but it was damp; and the otters had left a
dead fish near it. Mr. Tod likes nobody's leavings but his own.
He made his way up the hill; his temper was not improved by noticing
unmistakable marks of badger. No one else grubs up the moss so wantonly
as Tommy Brock.
Mr. Tod slapped his stick upon the earth and fumed; he guessed where
Tommy Brock had gone to. He was further annoyed by the jay bird which
followed him persistently. It flew from tree to tree and scolded,
warning every rabbit within hearing that either a cat or a fox was
coming up the plantation. Once when it flew screaming over his head--Mr.
Tod snapped at it, and barked.
He approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He
sniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up, but Mr. Tod
had his doubts whether it was empty. He turned the rusty key in the
lock; the rabbits below could hear it. Mr. Tod opened the door
cautiously and went in.
The sight that met Mr. Tod's eyes in Mr. Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod
furious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his
knife and fork and mustard and salt cellar and his table-cloth that he
had left folded up in the dresser--all set out for supper (or
breakfast)--without doubt for that odious Tommy Brock.
There was a smell of fresh earth and dirty badger, which fortunately
overpowered all smell of rabbit.
But what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep slow regular
snoring grunting noise, coming from his own bed.
He peeped through the hinges of the half-open bedroom door. Then he
turned and came out of the house in a hurry. His whiskers bristled and
his coat-collar stood on end with rage.
For the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the
house, and retreating hurriedly out again. By degrees he ventured
further in--right into the bedroom. When he was outside the house, he
scratched up the earth with fury. But when he was inside--he did not
like the look of Tommy Brock's teeth.
He was lying on his back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.
He snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.
Mr. Tod came in and out of the bedroom. Twice he brought in his
walking-stick, and once he brought in the coal-scuttle. But he thought
better of it, and took them away.
When he came back after removing the coal-scuttle, Tommy Brock was lying
a little more sideways; but he seemed even sounder asleep. He was an
incurably indolent person; he was not in the least afraid of Mr. Tod; he
was simply too lazy and comfortable to move.
Mr. Tod came back yet again into the bedroom with a clothes line. He
stood a minute watching Tommy Brock and listening attentively to the
snores. They were very loud indeed, but seemed quite natural.
Mr. Tod turned his back towards the bed, and undid the window. It
creaked; he turned round with a jump. Tommy Brock, who had opened one
eye--shut it hastily. The snores continued.
Mr. Tod's proceedings were peculiar, and rather uneasy, (because the bed
was between the window and the door of the bedroom). He opened the
window a little way, and pushed out the greater part of the clothes line
on to the window sill. The rest of the line, with a hook at the end,
remained in his hand.
Tommy Brock snored conscientiously. Mr. Tod stood and looked at him for
a minute; then he left the room again.
Tommy Brock opened both eyes, and looked at the rope and grinned. There
was a noise outside the window. Tommy Brock shut his eyes in a hurry.
Mr. Tod had gone out at the front door, and round to the back of the
house. On the way, he stumbled over the rabbit burrow. If he had had any
idea who was inside it, he would have pulled them out quickly.
His foot went through the tunnel nearly upon the top of Peter Rabbit and
Benjamin, but fortunately he thought that it was some more of Tommy
Brock's work.
He took up the coil of line from the sill, listened for a moment, and
then tied the rope to a tree.
Tommy Brock watched him with one eye, through the window. He was
puzzled.
Mr. Tod fetched a large heavy pailful of water from the spring, and
staggered with it through the kitchen into his bedroom.
Tommy Brock snored industriously, with rather a snort.
Mr. Tod put down the pail beside the bed, took up the end of rope with
the hook--hesitated, and looked at Tommy Brock. The snores were almost
apoplectic; but the grin was not quite so big.
Mr. Tod gingerly mounted a chair by the head of the bedstead. His legs
were dangerously near to Tommy Brock's teeth.
He reached up and put the end of rope, with the hook, over the head of
the tester bed, where the curtains ought to hang.
(Mr. Tod's curtains were folded up, and put away, owing to the house
being unoccupied. So was the counterpane. Tommy Brock was covered with a
blanket only.) Mr. Tod standing on the unsteady chair looked down upon
him attentively; he really was a first prize sound sleeper!
It seemed as though nothing would waken him--not even the flapping rope
across the bed.
Mr. Tod descended safely from the chair, and endeavoured to get up again
with the pail of water. He intended to hang it from the hook, dangling
over the head of Tommy Brock, in order to make a sort of shower-bath,
worked by a string, through the window.
But naturally being a thin-legged person (though vindictive and sandy
whiskered)--he was quite unable to lift the heavy weight to the level of
the hook and rope. He very nearly overbalanced himself.
The snores became more and more apoplectic. One of Tommy Brock's hind
legs twitched under the blanket, but still he slept on peacefully.
Mr. Tod and the pail descended from the chair without accident. After
considerable thought, he emptied the water into a wash-basin and jug.
The empty pail was not too heavy for him; he slung it up wobbling over
the head of Tommy Brock.
Surely there never was such a sleeper! Mr. Tod got up and down, down and
up on the chair.
As he could not lift the whole pailful of water at once, he fetched a
milk jug, and ladled quarts of water into the pail by degrees. The pail
got fuller and fuller, and swung like a pendulum. Occasionally a drop
splashed over; but still Tommy Brock snored regularly and never
moved,--except one eye.
At last Mr. Tod's preparations were complete. The pail was full of
water; the rope was tightly strained over the top of the bed, and across
the window sill to the tree outside.
"It will make a great mess in my bedroom; but I could never sleep in
that bed again without a spring cleaning of some sort," said Mr. Tod.
Mr. Tod took a last look at the badger and softly left the room. He went
out of the house, shutting the front door. The rabbits heard his
footsteps over the tunnel.
He ran round behind the house, intending to undo the rope in order to
let fall the pailful of water upon Tommy Brock--
"I will wake him up with an unpleasant surprise," said Mr. Tod.
The moment he had gone, Tommy Brock got up in a hurry; he rolled Mr.
Tod's dressing-gown into a bundle, put it into the bed beneath the pail
of water instead of himself, and left the room also--grinning immensely.
He went into the kitchen, lighted the fire and boiled the kettle; for
the moment he did not trouble himself to cook the baby rabbits.
When Mr. Tod got to the tree, he found that the weight and strain had
dragged the knot so tight that it was past untying. He was obliged to
gnaw it with his teeth. He chewed and gnawed for more than twenty
minutes. At last the rope gave way with such a sudden jerk that it
nearly pulled his teeth out, and quite knocked him over backwards.
Inside the house there was a great crash and splash, and the noise of a
pail rolling over and over.
But no screams. Mr. Tod was mystified; he sat quite still, and listened
attentively. Then he peeped in at the window. The water was dripping
from the bed, the pail had rolled into a corner.
In the middle of the bed under the blanket, was a wet flattened
SOMETHING--much dinged in, in the middle where the pail had caught it
(as it were across the tummy). Its head was covered by the wet blanket
and it was NOT SNORING ANY LONGER.
There was nothing stirring, and no sound except the drip, drop, drop
drip of water trickling from the mattress.
Mr. Tod watched it for half an hour; his eyes glistened.
Then he cut a caper, and became so bold that he even tapped at the
window; but the bundle never moved.
Yes--there was no doubt about it--it had turned out even better than he
had planned; the pail had hit poor old Tommy Brock, and killed him dead!
"I will bury that nasty person in the hole which he has dug. I will
bring my bedding out, and dry it in the sun," said Mr. Tod.
"I will wash the tablecloth and spread it on the grass in the sun to
bleach. And the blanket must be hung up in the wind; and the bed must be
thoroughly disinfected, and aired with a warming-pan; and warmed with a
hot-water bottle."
"I will get soft soap, and monkey soap, and all sorts of soap; and soda
and scrubbing brushes; and persian powder; and carbolic to remove the
smell. I must have a disinfecting. Perhaps I may have to burn sulphur."
He hurried round the house to get a shovel from the kitchen--"First I
will arrange the hole--then I will drag out that person in the blanket
..."
He opened the door....
Tommy Brock was sitting at Mr. Tod's kitchen table, pouring out tea from
Mr. Tod's tea-pot into Mr. Tod's tea-cup. He was quite dry himself and
grinning; and he threw the cup of scalding tea all over Mr. Tod.
Then Mr. Tod rushed upon Tommy Brock, and Tommy Brock grappled with Mr.
Tod amongst the broken crockery, and there was a terrific battle all
over the kitchen. To the rabbits underneath it sounded as if the floor
would give way at each crash of falling furniture.
They crept out of their tunnel, and hung about amongst the rocks and
bushes, listening anxiously.
Inside the house the racket was fearful. The rabbit babies in the oven
woke up trembling; perhaps it was fortunate they were shut up inside.
Everything was upset except the kitchen table.
And everything was broken, except the mantelpiece and the kitchen
fender. The crockery was smashed to atoms.
The chairs were broken, and the window, and the clock fell with a crash,
and there were handfuls of Mr. Tod's sandy whiskers.
The vases fell off the mantelpiece, the canisters fell off the shelf;
the kettle fell off the hob. Tommy Brock put his foot in a jar of
raspberry Jam.
And the boiling water out of the kettle fell upon the tail of Mr. Tod.
When the kettle fell, Tommy Brock, who was still grinning, happened to
be uppermost; and he rolled Mr. Tod over and over like a log, out at the
door.
Then the snarling and worrying went on outside; and they rolled over the
bank, and down hill, bumping over the rocks. There will never be any
love lost between Tommy Brock and Mr. Tod.
As soon as the coast was clear Peter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny came out
of the bushes--
"Now for it! Run in, Cousin Benjamin! Run in and get them while I watch
at the door."