The Wind in the Willows - Grahame Kenneth - Страница 11

The Badger went through a bit of hard thinking. ‘Now look here!’ he said at last, rather severely; ‘of course you know I can’t do anything now?’

His two friends assented, quite understanding his point. No animal, according to the rules of animal-etiquette, is ever expected to do anything strenuous, or heroic, or even moderately active during the off-season of winter. All are sleepy – some actually asleep. All are weather-bound, more or less; and all are resting from arduous days and nights, during which every muscle in them has been severely tested, and every energy kept at full stretch.

‘Very well then!’ continued the Badger. ‘But, when once the year has really turned, and the nights are shorter, and halfway through them one rouses and feels fidgety and wanting to be up and doing by sunrise, if not before – you know! – ’

Both animals nodded gravely. They knew!

‘Well, then,’ went on the Badger, ‘we – that is, you and me and our friend the Mole here – we’ll take Toad seriously in hand. We’ll stand no nonsense whatever. We’ll bring him back to reason, by force if need be. We’ll make him be a sensible Toad. We’ll – you’re asleep, Rat!’

‘Not me!’ said the Rat, waking up with a jerk.

‘He’s been asleep two or three times since supper,’ said the Mole, laughing. He himself was feeling quite wakeful and even lively, though he didn’t know why. The reason was, of course, that he being naturally an underground animal by birth and breeding, the situation of Badger’s house exactly suited him and made him feel at home; while the Rat, who slept every night in a bedroom the windows of which opened on a breezy river, naturally felt the atmosphere still and oppressive.

‘Well, it’s time we were all in bed,’ said the Badger, getting up and fetching flat candlesticks. ‘Come along, you two, and I’ll show you your quarters. And take your time tomorrow morning – breakfast at any hour you please!’

He conducted the two animals to a long room that seemed half bedchamber and half loft. The Badger’s winter stores, which indeed were visible everywhere, took up half the room – piles of apples, turnips, and potatoes, baskets full of nuts, and jars of honey; but the two little white beds on the remainder of the floor looked soft and inviting, and the linen on them, though coarse, was clean and smelt beautifully of lavender; and the Mole and the Water Rat, shaking off their garments in some thirty seconds, tumbled in between the sheets in great joy and contentment.

In accordance with the kindly Badger’s injunctions, the two tired animals came down to breakfast very late next morning, and found a bright fire burning in the kitchen, and two young hedgehogs sitting on a bench at the table, eating oatmeal porridge out of wooden bowls. The hedgehogs dropped their spoons, rose to their feet, and ducked their heads respectfully as the two entered.

‘There, sit down, sit down,’ said the Rat pleasantly, ‘and go on with your porridge. Where have you youngsters come from? Lost your way in the snow, I suppose?’

‘Yes, please, sir,’ said the elder of the two hedgehogs respectfully. ‘Me and little Billy here, we was trying to find our way to school – mother would have us go, was the weather ever so – and of course we lost ourselves, sir, and Billy he got frightened and took and cried, being young and faint-hearted. And at last we happened up against Mr. Badger’s back door, and made so bold as to knock, sir, for Mr. Badger he’s a kind-hearted gentleman, as everyone knows – ’

‘I understand,’ said the Rat, cutting himself some rashers from a side of bacon, while the Mole dropped some eggs into a saucepan. ‘And what’s the weather like outside? You needn’t “sir” me quite so much?’ he added.

‘O, terrible bad, sir, terrible deep the snow is,’ said the hedgehog. ‘No getting out for the likes of you gentlemen to-day.’

‘Where’s Mr. Badger?’ inquired the Mole, as he warmed the coffee-pot before the fire.

‘The master’s gone into his study, sir,’ replied the hedgehog, ‘and he said as how he was going to be particular busy this morning, and on no account was he to be disturbed.’

This explanation, of course, was thoroughly understood by every one present. The fact is, as already set forth, when you live a life of intense activity for six months in the year, and of comparative or actual somnolence for the other six, during the latter period you cannot be continually pleading sleepiness when there are people about or things to be done. The excuse gets monotonous. The animals well knew that Badger, having eaten a hearty breakfast, had retired to his study and settled himself in an arm-chair with his legs up on another and a red cotton handkerchief over his face, and was being ‘busy’ in the usual way at this time of the year.

The front-door bell clanged loudly, and the Rat, who was very greasy with buttered toast, sent Billy, the smaller hedgehog, to see who it might be. There was a sound of much stamping in the hall, and presently Billy returned in front of the Otter, who threw himself on the Rat with an embrace and a shout of affectionate greeting.

‘Get off!’ spluttered the Rat, with his mouth full.

‘Thought I should find you here all right,’ said the Otter cheerfully. ‘They were all in a great state of alarm along River Bank when I arrived this morning. Rat never been home all night – nor Mole either – something dreadful must have happened, they said; and the snow had covered up all your tracks, of course. But I knew that when people were in any fix they mostly went to Badger, or else Badger got to know of it somehow, so I came straight off here, through the Wild Wood and the snow! My! it was fine, coming through the snow as the red sun was rising and showing against the black tree-trunks! As you went along in the stillness, every now and then masses of snow slid off the branches suddenly with a flop! making you jump and run for cover. Snow-castles and snow-caverns had sprung up out of nowhere in the night – and snow bridges, terraces, ramparts – I could have stayed and played with them for hours. Here and there great branches had been torn away by the sheer weight of the snow, and robins perched and hopped on them in their perky conceited way, just as if they had done it themselves. A ragged string of wild geese passed overhead, high on the grey sky, and a few rooks whirled over the trees, inspected, and flapped off homewards with a disgusted expression; but I met no sensible being to ask the news of. About halfway across I came on a rabbit sitting on a stump, cleaning his silly face with his paws. He was a pretty scared animal when I crept up behind him and placed a heavy forepaw on his shoulder. I had to cuff his head once or twice to get any sense out of it at all. At last I managed to extract from him that Mole had been seen in the Wild Wood last night by one of them. It was the talk of the burrows, he said, how Mole, Mr. Rat’s particular friend, was in a bad fix; how he had lost his way, and “They” were up and out hunting, and were chivvying him round and round. “Then why didn’t any of you do something?” I asked. “You mayn’t be blest with brains, but there are hundreds and hundreds of you, big, stout fellows, as fat as butter, and your burrows running in all directions, and you could have taken him in and made him safe and comfortable, or tried to, at all events.” “What, us?” he merely said: “do something? us rabbits?” So I cuffed him again and left him. There was nothing else to be done. At any rate, I had learnt something; and if I had had the luck to meet any of “Them” I’d have learnt something more – or they would.’

‘Weren’t you at all – er – nervous?’ asked the Mole, some of yesterday’s terror coming back to him at the mention of the Wild Wood.

‘Nervous?’ The Otter showed a gleaming set of strong white teeth as he laughed. ‘I’d give ’em nerves if any of them tried anything on with me. Here, Mole, fry me some slices of ham, like the good little chap you are. I’m frightfully hungry, and I’ve got any amount to say to Ratty here. Haven’t seen him for an age.’