The Wind in the Willows, Page 3

  III

  THE WILD WOOD

  The Mole had long wanted to make the acquaintance of the Badger. Heseemed, by all accounts, to be such an important personage and, thoughrarely visible, to make his unseen influence felt by everybody aboutthe place. But whenever the Mole mentioned his wish to the Water Rat,he always found himself put off. "It's all right," the Rat would say."Badger'll turn up some day or other--he's always turning up--and thenI'll introduce you. The best of fellows! But you must not only takehim _as_ you find him, but _when_ you find him."

  "Couldn't you ask him here--dinner or something?" said the Mole.

  "He wouldn't come," replied the Rat simply. "Badger hates Society, andinvitations, and dinner, and all that sort of thing."

  "Well, then, supposing we go and call on _him_?" suggested the Mole.

  "O, I'm sure he wouldn't like that at _all_," said the Rat, quitealarmed. "He's so very shy, he'd be sure to be offended. I've nevereven ventured to call on him at his own home myself, though I know himso well. Besides, we can't. It's quite out of the question, because helives in the very middle of the Wild Wood."

  "Well, supposing he does," said the Mole. "You told me the Wild Woodwas all right, you know."

  "O, I know, I know, so it is," replied the Rat evasively. "But I thinkwe won't go there just now. Not _just_ yet. It's a long way, and hewouldn't be at home at this time of year anyhow, and he'll be comingalong some day, if you'll wait quietly."

  The Mole had to be content with this. But the Badger never came along,and every day brought its amusements, and it was not till summer waslong over, and cold and frost and miry ways kept them much indoors,and the swollen river raced past outside their windows with a speedthat mocked at boating of any sort or kind, that he found his thoughtsdwelling again with much persistence on the solitary grey Badger, wholived his own life by himself, in his hole in the middle of the WildWood.

  In the winter time the Rat slept a great deal, retiring early andrising late. During his short day he sometimes scribbled poetry or didother small domestic jobs about the house; and, of course, there werealways animals dropping in for a chat, and consequently there was agood deal of story-telling and comparing notes on the past summer andall its doings.

  Such a rich chapter it had been, when one came to look back on it all!With illustrations so numerous and so very highly-coloured! The pageantof the river bank had marched steadily along, unfolding itself inscene-pictures that succeeded each other in stately procession. Purpleloosestrife arrived early, shaking luxuriant tangled locks along theedge of the mirror whence its own face laughed back at it. Willow-herb,tender and wistful, like a pink sunset cloud, was not slow to follow.Comfrey, the purple hand-in-hand with the white, crept forth to take itsplace in the line; and at last one morning the diffident and delayingdog-rose stepped delicately on the stage, and one knew, as ifstring-music had announced it in stately chords that strayed into agavotte, that June at last was here. One member of the company was stillawaited; the shepherd-boy for the nymphs to woo, the knight for whom theladies waited at the window, the prince that was to kiss the sleepingsummer back to life and love. But when meadow-sweet, debonair andodorous in amber jerkin, moved graciously to his place in the group,then the play was ready to begin.

  And what a play it had been! Drowsy animals, snug in their holes whilewind and rain were battering at their doors, recalled still keenmornings, an hour before sunrise, when the white mist, as yetundispersed, clung closely along the surface of the water; then theshock of the early plunge, the scamper along the bank, and the radianttransformation of earth, air, and water, when suddenly the sun waswith them again, and grey was gold and colour was born and sprang outof the earth once more. They recalled the languorous siesta of hotmid-day, deep in green undergrowth, the sun striking through in tinygolden shafts and spots; the boating and bathing of the afternoon, therambles along dusty lanes and through yellow corn-fields; and thelong, cool evening at last, when so many threads were gathered up, somany friendships rounded, and so many adventures planned for themorrow. There was plenty to talk about on those short winter days whenthe animals found themselves round the fire; still, the Mole had agood deal of spare time on his hands, and so one afternoon, when theRat in his arm-chair before the blaze was alternately dozing andtrying over rhymes that wouldn't fit, he formed the resolution to goout by himself and explore the Wild Wood, and perhaps strike up anacquaintance with Mr. Badger.

  It was a cold, still afternoon with a hard, steely sky overhead, whenhe slipped out of the warm parlour into the open air. The country laybare and entirely leafless around him, and he thought that he hadnever seen so far and so intimately into the insides of things as onthat winter day when Nature was deep in her annual slumber and seemedto have kicked the clothes off. Copses, dells, quarries, and allhidden places, which had been mysterious mines for exploration inleafy summer, now exposed themselves and their secrets pathetically,and seemed to ask him to overlook their shabby poverty for a while,till they could riot in rich masquerade as before, and trick andentice him with the old deceptions. It was pitiful in a way, and yetcheering--even exhilarating. He was glad that he liked the countryundecorated, hard, and stripped of its finery. He had got down to thebare bones of it, and they were fine and strong and simple. He did notwant the warm clover and the play of seeding grasses; the screens ofquickset, the billowy drapery of beech and elm seemed best away; andwith great cheerfulness of spirit he pushed on towards the Wild Wood,which lay before him low and threatening, like a black reef in somestill southern sea.

  There was nothing to alarm him at first entry. Twigs crackled underhis feet, logs tripped him, funguses on stumps resembled caricatures,and startled him for the moment by their likeness to somethingfamiliar and far away; but that was all fun, and exciting. It led himon, and he penetrated to where the light was less, and trees crouchednearer and nearer, and holes made ugly mouths at him on either side.

  Everything was very still now. The dusk advanced on him steadily,rapidly, gathering in behind and before; and the light seemed to bedraining away like flood-water.

  Then the faces began.

  It was over his shoulder, and indistinctly, that he first thought hesaw a face, a little, evil, wedge-shaped face, looking out at him froma hole. When he turned and confronted it, the thing had vanished.

  He quickened his pace, telling himself cheerfully not to beginimagining things or there would be simply no end to it. He passedanother hole, and another, and another; and then--yes!--no!--yes!certainly a little, narrow face, with hard eyes, had flashed up for aninstant from a hole, and was gone. He hesitated--braced himself up foran effort and strode on. Then suddenly, and as if it had been so allthe time, every hole, far and near, and there were hundreds of them,seemed to possess its face, coming and going rapidly, all fixing onhim glances of malice and hatred: all hard-eyed and evil and sharp.

  If he could only get away from the holes in the banks, he thought,there would be no more faces. He swung off the path and plunged intothe untrodden places of the wood.

  Then the whistling began.

  Very faint and shrill it was, and far behind him, when first he heardit; but somehow it made him hurry forward. Then, still very faint andshrill, it sounded far ahead of him, and made him hesitate and want togo back. As he halted in indecision it broke out on either side, andseemed to be caught up and passed on throughout the whole length ofthe wood to its farthest limit. They were up and alert and ready,evidently, whoever they were! And he--he was alone, and unarmed, andfar from any help; and the night was closing in.

  Then the pattering began.

  He thought it was only falling leaves at first, so slight and delicatewas the sound of it. Then as it grew it took a regular rhythm, and heknew it for nothing else but the pat-pat-pat of little feet still avery long way off. Was it in front or behind? It seemed to be firstone, and then the other, then both. It grew and it multiplied, tillfrom every quarter as he listened anxiously, leaning this way andthat, it seemed to be clos
ing in on him. As he stood still to hearken,a rabbit came running hard towards him through the trees. He waited,expecting it to slacken pace or to swerve from him into a differentcourse. Instead, the animal almost brushed him as it dashed past, hisface set and hard, his eyes staring. "Get out of this, you fool, getout!" the Mole heard him mutter as he swung round a stump anddisappeared down a friendly burrow.

  The pattering increased till it sounded like sudden hail on the dryleaf-carpet spread around him. The whole wood seemed running now,running hard, hunting, chasing, closing in round something or--somebody?In panic, he began to run too, aimlessly, he knew not whither. He ran upagainst things, he fell over things and into things, he darted underthings and dodged round things. At last he took refuge in the deep, darkhollow of an old beech tree, which offered shelter, concealment--perhapseven safety, but who could tell? Anyhow, he was too tired to run anyfurther, and could only snuggle down into the dry leaves which haddrifted into the hollow and hope he was safe for a time. And as he laythere panting and trembling, and listened to the whistlings and thepatterings outside, he knew it at last, in all its fulness, that dreadthing which other little dwellers in field and hedgerow had encounteredhere, and known as their darkest moment--that thing which the Rat hadvainly tried to shield him from--the Terror of the Wild Wood!

  _In panic, he began to run_]

  Meantime the Rat, warm and comfortable, dozed by his fireside. Hispaper of half-finished verses slipped from his knee, his head fellback, his mouth opened, and he wandered by the verdant banks ofdream-rivers. Then a coal slipped, the fire crackled and sent up aspurt of flame, and he woke with a start. Remembering what he had beenengaged upon, he reached down to the floor for his verses, pored overthem for a minute, and then looked round for the Mole to ask him if heknew a good rhyme for something or other.

  But the Mole was not there.

  He listened for a time. The house seemed very quiet.

  Then he called "Moly!" several times, and, receiving no answer, got upand went out into the hall.

  The Mole's cap was missing from its accustomed peg. His goloshes,which always lay by the umbrella-stand, were also gone.

  The Rat left the house, and carefully examined the muddy surface ofthe ground outside, hoping to find the Mole's tracks. There they were,sure enough. The goloshes were new, just bought for the winter, andthe pimples on their soles were fresh and sharp. He could see theimprints of them in the mud, running along straight and purposeful,leading direct to the Wild Wood.

  The Rat looked very grave, and stood in deep thought for a minute ortwo. Then he re-entered the house, strapped a belt round his waist,shoved a brace of pistols into it, took up a stout cudgel that stoodin a corner of the hall, and set off for the Wild Wood at a smartpace.

  It was already getting towards dusk when he reached the first fringeof trees and plunged without hesitation into the wood, lookinganxiously on either side for any sign of his friend. Here and therewicked little faces popped out of holes, but vanished immediately atsight of the valorous animal, his pistols, and the great ugly cudgelin his grasp; and the whistling and pattering, which he had heardquite plainly on his first entry, died away and ceased, and all wasvery still. He made his way manfully through the length of the wood,to its furthest edge; then, forsaking all paths, he set himself totraverse it, laboriously working over the whole ground, and all thetime calling out cheerfully, "Moly, Moly, Moly! Where are you? It'sme--it's old Rat!"

  He had patiently hunted through the wood for an hour or more, when atlast to his joy he heard a little answering cry. Guiding himself bythe sound, he made his way through the gathering darkness to the footof an old beech tree, with a hole in it, and from out of the hole camea feeble voice, saying "Ratty! Is that really you?"

  The Rat crept into the hollow, and there he found the Mole, exhaustedand still trembling. "O Rat!" he cried, "I've been so frightened, youcan't think!"

  "O, I quite understand," said the Rat soothingly. "You shouldn'treally have gone and done it, Mole. I did my best to keep you from it.We river-bankers, we hardly ever come here by ourselves. If we have tocome, we come in couples at least; then we're generally all right.Besides, there are a hundred things one has to know, which weunderstand all about and you don't, as yet. I mean passwords, andsigns, and sayings which have power and effect, and plants you carryin your pocket, and verses you repeat, and dodges and tricks youpractise; all simple enough when you know them, but they've got to beknown if you're small, or you'll find yourself in trouble. Of courseif you were Badger or Otter, it would be quite another matter."

  "Surely the brave Mr. Toad wouldn't mind coming here by himself, wouldhe?" inquired the Mole.

  "Old Toad?" said the Rat, laughing heartily. "He wouldn't show hisface here alone, not for a whole hatful of golden guineas, Toadwouldn't."

  The Mole was greatly cheered by the sound of the Rat's carelesslaughter, as well as by the sight of his stick and his gleamingpistols, and he stopped shivering and began to feel bolder and morehimself again.

  "Now then," said the Rat presently, "we really must pull ourselvestogether and make a start for home while there's still a little lightleft. It will never do to spend the night here, you understand. Toocold, for one thing."

  "Dear Ratty," said the poor Mole, "I'm dreadfully sorry, but I'msimply dead beat and that's a solid fact. You _must_ let me rest herea while longer, and get my strength back, if I'm to get home at all."

  "O, all right," said the good-natured Rat, "rest away. It's prettynearly pitch dark now, anyhow; and there ought to be a bit of a moonlater."

  So the Mole got well into the dry leaves and stretched himself out,and presently dropped off into sleep, though of a broken and troubledsort; while the Rat covered himself up, too, as best he might, forwarmth, and lay patiently waiting, with a pistol in his paw.

  When at last the Mole woke up, much refreshed and in his usualspirits, the Rat said, "Now then! I'll just take a look outside andsee if everything's quiet, and then we really must be off."

  He went to the entrance of their retreat and put his head out. Thenthe Mole heard him saying quietly to himself, "Hullo! hullo!here--_is_--a--go!"

  "What's up, Ratty?" asked the Mole.

  "_Snow_ is up," replied the Rat briefly; "or rather, _down_. It'ssnowing hard."

  The Mole came and crouched beside him, and, looking out, saw the woodthat had been so dreadful to him in quite a changed aspect. Holes,hollows, pools, pitfalls, and other black menaces to the wayfarer werevanishing fast, and a gleaming carpet of faery was springing upeverywhere, that looked too delicate to be trodden upon by rough feet.A fine powder filled the air and caressed the cheek with a tingle inits touch, and the black boles of the trees showed up in a light thatseemed to come from below.

  "Well, well, it can't be helped," said the Rat, after pondering. "Wemust make a start, and take our chance, I suppose. The worst of it is,I don't exactly know where we are. And now this snow makes everythinglook so very different."

  It did indeed. The Mole would not have known that it was the samewood. However, they set out bravely, and took the line that seemedmost promising, holding on to each other and pretending withinvincible cheerfulness that they recognised an old friend in everyfresh tree that grimly and silently greeted them, or saw openings,gaps, or paths with a familiar turn in them, in the monotony of whitespace and black tree-trunks that refused to vary.

  An hour or two later--they had lost all count of time--they pulled up,dispirited, weary, and hopelessly at sea, and sat down on a fallentree-trunk to recover their breath and consider what was to be done.They were aching with fatigue and bruised with tumbles; they hadfallen into several holes and got wet through; the snow was getting sodeep that they could hardly drag their little legs through it, and thetrees were thicker and more like each other than ever. There seemed tobe no end to this wood, and no beginning, and no difference in it,and, worst of all, no way out.

  "We can't sit here very long," said the Rat. "We shall have to makeanother push fo
r it, and do something or other. The cold is too awfulfor anything, and the snow will soon be too deep for us to wadethrough." He peered about him and considered. "Look here," he went on,"this is what occurs to me. There's a sort of dell down here in frontof us, where the ground seems all hilly and humpy and hummocky. We'llmake our way down into that, and try and find some sort of shelter, acave or hole with a dry floor to it, out of the snow and the wind, andthere we'll have a good rest before we try again, for we're both of uspretty dead beat. Besides, the snow may leave off, or something mayturn up."

  So once more they got on their feet, and struggled down into the dell,where they hunted about for a cave or some corner that was dry and aprotection from the keen wind and the whirling snow. They wereinvestigating one of the hummocky bits the Rat had spoken of, whensuddenly the Mole tripped up and fell forward on his face with asqueal.

  "O my leg!" he cried. "O my poor shin!" and he sat up on the snow andnursed his leg in both his front paws.

  "Poor old Mole!" said the Rat kindly. "You don't seem to be havingmuch luck to-day, do you? Let's have a look at the leg. Yes," he wenton, going down on his knees to look, "you've cut your shin, sureenough. Wait till I get at my handkerchief, and I'll tie it up foryou."

  "I must have tripped over a hidden branch or a stump," said the Molemiserably. "O, my! O, my!"

  "It's a very clean cut," said the Rat, examining it again attentively."That was never done by a branch or a stump. Looks as if it was madeby a sharp edge of something in metal. Funny!" He pondered awhile, andexamined the humps and slopes that surrounded them.

  "Well, never mind what done it," said the Mole, forgetting his grammarin his pain. "It hurts just the same, whatever done it."

  But the Rat, after carefully tying up the leg with his handkerchief,had left him and was busy scraping in the snow. He scratched andshovelled and explored, all four legs working busily, while the Molewaited impatiently, remarking at intervals, "O, _come_ on, Rat!"

  Suddenly the Rat cried "Hooray!" and then"Hooray-oo-ray-oo-ray-oo-ray!" and fell to executing a feeble jig inthe snow.

  "What _have_ you found, Ratty?" asked the Mole, still nursing his leg.

  "Come and see!" said the delighted Rat, as he jigged on.

  The Mole hobbled up to the spot and had a good look.

  "Well," he said at last, slowly, "I _see_ it right enough. Seen the samesort of thing before, lots of times. Familiar object, I call it. Adoor-scraper! Well, what of it? Why dance jigs around a door-scraper?"

  "But don't you see what it _means_, you--you dull-witted animal?"cried the Rat impatiently.

  "Of course I see what it means," replied the Mole. "It simply meansthat some _very_ careless and forgetful person has left hisdoor-scraper lying about in the middle of the Wild Wood, _just_ whereit's _sure_ to trip _everybody_ up. Very thoughtless of him, I callit. When I get home I shall go and complain about it to--to somebodyor other, see if I don't!"

  "O, dear! O, dear!" cried the Rat, in despair at his obtuseness."Here, stop arguing and come and scrape!" And he set to work again andmade the snow fly in all directions around him.

  After some further toil his efforts were rewarded, and a very shabbydoor-mat lay exposed to view.

  "There, what did I tell you?" exclaimed the Rat in great triumph.

  "Absolutely nothing whatever," replied the Mole, with perfect truthfulness."Well, now," he went on, "you seem to have found another piece ofdomestic litter, done for and thrown away, and I suppose you'reperfectly happy. Better go ahead and dance your jig round that if you'vegot to, and get it over, and then perhaps we can go on and not waste anymore time over rubbish-heaps. Can we _eat_ a door-mat? Or sleep under adoor-mat? Or sit on a door-mat and sledge home over the snow on it, youexasperating rodent?"

  "Do--you--mean--to--say," cried the excited Rat, "that this door-matdoesn't _tell_ you anything?"

  "Really, Rat," said the Mole, quite pettishly, "I think we've hadenough of this folly. Who ever heard of a door-mat _telling_ any oneanything? They simply don't do it. They are not that sort at all.Door-mats know their place."

  "Now look here, you--you thick-headed beast," replied the Rat, reallyangry, "this must stop. Not another word, but scrape--scrape andscratch and dig and hunt round, especially on the sides of thehummocks, if you want to sleep dry and warm to-night, for it's ourlast chance!"

  The Rat attacked a snow-bank beside them with ardour, probing with hiscudgel everywhere and then digging with fury; and the Mole scrapedbusily too, more to oblige the Rat than for any other reason, for hisopinion was that his friend was getting light-headed.

  Some ten minutes' hard work, and the point of the Rat's cudgel strucksomething that sounded hollow. He worked till he could get a pawthrough and feel; then called the Mole to come and help him. Hard atit went the two animals, till at last the result of their laboursstood full in view of the astonished and hitherto incredulous Mole.

  In the side of what had seemed to be a snow-bank stood a solid-lookinglittle door, painted a dark green. An iron bell-pull hung by the side,and below it, on a small brass plate, neatly engraved in square capitalletters, they could read by the aid of moonlight

  MR. BADGER.

  The Mole fell backwards on the snow from sheer surprise and delight."Rat!" he cried in penitence, "you're a wonder! A real wonder, that'swhat you are. I see it all now! You argued it out, step by step, inthat wise head of yours, from the very moment that I fell and cut myshin, and you looked at the cut, and at once your majestic mind saidto itself, 'Door-scraper!' And then you turned to and found the verydoor-scraper that done it! Did you stop there? No. Some people wouldhave been quite satisfied; but not you. Your intellect went onworking. 'Let me only just find a door-mat,' says you to yourself,'and my theory is proved!' And of course you found your door-mat.You're so clever, I believe you could find anything you liked. 'Now,'says you, 'that door exists, as plain as if I saw it. There's nothingelse remains to be done but to find it!' Well, I've read about thatsort of thing in books, but I've never come across it before in reallife. You ought to go where you'll be properly appreciated. You'resimply wasted here, among us fellows. If I only had your head,Ratty--"

  "But as you haven't," interrupted the Rat, rather unkindly, "I supposeyou're going to sit on the snow all night and _talk_? Get up at onceand hang on to that bell-pull you see there, and ring hard, as hard asyou can, while I hammer!"

  While the Rat attacked the door with his stick, the Mole sprang up atthe bell-pull, clutched it and swung there, both feet well off theground, and from quite a long way off they could faintly hear adeep-toned bell respond.