THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS - II. THE OPEN ROAD

THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS -

II. THE OPEN ROAD


‘Ratty,’ said the Mole suddenly, one bright summer morning, ‘if you
please, I want to ask you a favour.’

The Rat was sitting on the river bank, singing a little song. He had
just composed it himself, so he was very taken up with it, and would not
pay proper attention to Mole or anything else. Since early morning he
had been swimming in the river, in company with his friends the ducks.
And when the ducks stood on their heads suddenly, as ducks will, he
would dive down and tickle their necks, just under where their chins
would be if ducks had chins, till they were forced to come to the
surface again in a hurry, spluttering and angry and shaking their
feathers at him, for it is impossible to say quite ALL you feel when
your head is under water. At last they implored him to go away and
attend to his own affairs and leave them to mind theirs. So the Rat went
away, and sat on the river bank in the sun, and made up a song about
them, which he called


            ‘DUCKS’ DITTY.’

          All along the backwater,
          Through the rushes tall,
          Ducks are a-dabbling,
          Up tails all!
          Ducks’ tails, drakes’ tails,
          Yellow feet a-quiver,
          Yellow bills all out of sight
          Busy in the river!

          Slushy green undergrowth
          Where the roach swim--
          Here we keep our larder,
          Cool and full and dim.

          Everyone for what he likes!
          _We_ like to be
          Heads down, tails up,
          Dabbling free!

          High in the blue above
          Swifts whirl and call--
          _We_ are down a-dabbling
          Uptails all!


‘I don’t know that I think so VERY much of that little song, Rat,’
observed the Mole cautiously. He was no poet himself and didn’t care who
knew it; and he had a candid nature.

‘Nor don’t the ducks neither,’ replied the Rat cheerfully. ‘They say,
“WHY can’t fellows be allowed to do what they like WHEN they like and AS
they like, instead of other fellows sitting on banks and watching them
all the time and making remarks and poetry and things about them? What
NONSENSE it all is!” That’s what the ducks say.’

‘So it is, so it is,’ said the Mole, with great heartiness.

‘No, it isn’t!’ cried the Rat indignantly.

‘Well then, it isn’t, it isn’t,’ replied the Mole soothingly. ‘But what
I wanted to ask you was, won’t you take me to call on Mr. Toad? I’ve
heard so much about him, and I do so want to make his acquaintance.’

‘Why, certainly,’ said the good-natured Rat, jumping to his feet and
dismissing poetry from his mind for the day. ‘Get the boat out, and
we’ll paddle up there at once. It’s never the wrong time to call on
Toad. Early or late he’s always the same fellow. Always good-tempered,
always glad to see you, always sorry when you go!’

‘He must be a very nice animal,’ observed the Mole, as he got into the
boat and took the sculls, while the Rat settled himself comfortably in
the stern.

‘He is indeed the best of animals,’ replied Rat. ‘So simple, so
good-natured, and so affectionate. Perhaps he’s not very clever--we
can’t all be geniuses; and it may be that he is both boastful and
conceited. But he has got some great qualities, has Toady.’

Rounding a bend in the river, they came in sight of a handsome,
dignified old house of mellowed red brick, with well-kept lawns reaching
down to the water’s edge.

‘There’s Toad Hall,’ said the Rat; ‘and that creek on the left, where
the notice-board says, “Private. No landing allowed,” leads to his
boat-house, where we’ll leave the boat. The stables are over there to
the right. That’s the banqueting-hall you’re looking at now--very old,
that is. Toad is rather rich, you know, and this is really one of the
nicest houses in these parts, though we never admit as much to Toad.’

They glided up the creek, and the Mole shipped his sculls as they passed
into the shadow of a large boat-house. Here they saw many handsome
boats, slung from the cross beams or hauled up on a slip, but none in
the water; and the place had an unused and a deserted air.

The Rat looked around him. ‘I understand,’ said he. ‘Boating is played
out. He’s tired of it, and done with it. I wonder what new fad he has
taken up now? Come along and let’s look him up. We shall hear all about
it quite soon enough.’

They disembarked, and strolled across the gay flower-decked lawns in
search of Toad, whom they presently happened upon resting in a wicker
garden-chair, with a pre-occupied expression of face, and a large map
spread out on his knees.

‘Hooray!’ he cried, jumping up on seeing them, ‘this is splendid!’ He
shook the paws of both of them warmly, never waiting for an introduction
to the Mole. ‘How KIND of you!’ he went on, dancing round them. ‘I was
just going to send a boat down the river for you, Ratty, with strict
orders that you were to be fetched up here at once, whatever you were
doing. I want you badly--both of you. Now what will you take? Come
inside and have something! You don’t know how lucky it is, your turning
up just now!’

‘Let’s sit quiet a bit, Toady!’ said the Rat, throwing himself into an
easy chair, while the Mole took another by the side of him and made some
civil remark about Toad’s ‘delightful residence.’

‘Finest house on the whole river,’ cried Toad boisterously. ‘Or anywhere
else, for that matter,’ he could not help adding.

Here the Rat nudged the Mole. Unfortunately the Toad saw him do it, and
turned very red. There was a moment’s painful silence. Then Toad burst
out laughing. ‘All right, Ratty,’ he said. ‘It’s only my way, you know.
And it’s not such a very bad house, is it? You know you rather like it
yourself. Now, look here. Let’s be sensible. You are the very animals I
wanted. You’ve got to help me. It’s most important!’

‘It’s about your rowing, I suppose,’ said the Rat, with an innocent air.
‘You’re getting on fairly well, though you splash a good bit still. With
a great deal of patience, and any quantity of coaching, you may----’

‘O, pooh! boating!’ interrupted the Toad, in great disgust. Silly boyish
amusement. I’ve given that up LONG ago. Sheer waste of time, that’s what
it is. It makes me downright sorry to see you fellows, who ought to
know better, spending all your energies in that aimless manner. No, I’ve
discovered the real thing, the only genuine occupation for a life time.
I propose to devote the remainder of mine to it, and can only regret the
wasted years that lie behind me, squandered in trivialities. Come with
me, dear Ratty, and your amiable friend also, if he will be so very
good, just as far as the stable-yard, and you shall see what you shall
see!’

He led the way to the stable-yard accordingly, the Rat following with
a most mistrustful expression; and there, drawn out of the coach house
into the open, they saw a gipsy caravan, shining with newness, painted a
canary-yellow picked out with green, and red wheels.

‘There you are!’ cried the Toad, straddling and expanding himself.
‘There’s real life for you, embodied in that little cart. The open road,
the dusty highway, the heath, the common, the hedgerows, the rolling
downs! Camps, villages, towns, cities! Here to-day, up and off to
somewhere else to-morrow! Travel, change, interest, excitement! The
whole world before you, and a horizon that’s always changing! And mind!
this is the very finest cart of its sort that was ever built, without
any exception. Come inside and look at the arrangements. Planned ‘em all
myself, I did!’

The Mole was tremendously interested and excited, and followed him
eagerly up the steps and into the interior of the caravan. The Rat only
snorted and thrust his hands deep into his pockets, remaining where he
was.

It was indeed very compact and comfortable. Little sleeping bunks--a
little table that folded up against the wall--a cooking-stove, lockers,
bookshelves, a bird-cage with a bird in it; and pots, pans, jugs and
kettles of every size and variety.

‘All complete!’ said the Toad triumphantly, pulling open a locker. ‘You
see--biscuits, potted lobster, sardines--everything you can possibly
want. Soda-water here--baccy there--letter-paper, bacon, jam, cards and
dominoes--you’ll find,’ he continued, as they descended the steps again,
‘you’ll find that nothing what ever has been forgotten, when we make our
start this afternoon.’

‘I beg your pardon,’ said the Rat slowly, as he chewed a straw, ‘but
did I overhear you say something about “WE,” and “START,” and “THIS
AFTERNOON?”’

‘Now, you dear good old Ratty,’ said Toad, imploringly, ‘don’t begin
talking in that stiff and sniffy sort of way, because you know you’ve
GOT to come. I can’t possibly manage without you, so please consider it
settled, and don’t argue--it’s the one thing I can’t stand. You surely
don’t mean to stick to your dull fusty old river all your life, and just
live in a hole in a bank, and BOAT? I want to show you the world! I’m
going to make an ANIMAL of you, my boy!’

‘I don’t care,’ said the Rat, doggedly. ‘I’m not coming, and that’s
flat. And I AM going to stick to my old river, AND live in a hole, AND
boat, as I’ve always done. And what’s more, Mole’s going to stick to me
and do as I do, aren’t you, Mole?’

‘Of course I am,’ said the Mole, loyally. ‘I’ll always stick to you,
Rat, and what you say is to be--has got to be. All the same, it sounds
as if it might have been--well, rather fun, you know!’ he added,
wistfully. Poor Mole! The Life Adventurous was so new a thing to him,
and so thrilling; and this fresh aspect of it was so tempting; and he
had fallen in love at first sight with the canary-coloured cart and all
its little fitments.

The Rat saw what was passing in his mind, and wavered. He hated
disappointing people, and he was fond of the Mole, and would do almost
anything to oblige him. Toad was watching both of them closely.

‘Come along in, and have some lunch,’ he said, diplomatically, ‘and
we’ll talk it over. We needn’t decide anything in a hurry. Of course,
_I_ don’t really care. I only want to give pleasure to you fellows.
“Live for others!” That’s my motto in life.’

During luncheon--which was excellent, of course, as everything at Toad
Hall always was--the Toad simply let himself go. Disregarding the Rat,
he proceeded to play upon the inexperienced Mole as on a harp. Naturally
a voluble animal, and always mastered by his imagination, he painted the
prospects of the trip and the joys of the open life and the roadside
in such glowing colours that the Mole could hardly sit in his chair for
excitement. Somehow, it soon seemed taken for granted by all three
of them that the trip was a settled thing; and the Rat, though still
unconvinced in his mind, allowed his good-nature to over-ride his
personal objections. He could not bear to disappoint his two friends,
who were already deep in schemes and anticipations, planning out each
day’s separate occupation for several weeks ahead.

When they were quite ready, the now triumphant Toad led his companions
to the paddock and set them to capture the old grey horse, who, without
having been consulted, and to his own extreme annoyance, had been told
off by Toad for the dustiest job in this dusty expedition. He frankly
preferred the paddock, and took a deal of catching. Meantime Toad packed
the lockers still tighter with necessaries, and hung nosebags, nets of
onions, bundles of hay, and baskets from the bottom of the cart. At last
the horse was caught and harnessed, and they set off, all talking at
once, each animal either trudging by the side of the cart or sitting on
the shaft, as the humour took him. It was a golden afternoon. The
smell of the dust they kicked up was rich and satisfying; out of thick
orchards on either side the road, birds called and whistled to them
cheerily; good-natured wayfarers, passing them, gave them ‘Good-day,’
or stopped to say nice things about their beautiful cart; and rabbits,
sitting at their front doors in the hedgerows, held up their fore-paws,
and said, ‘O my! O my! O my!’

Late in the evening, tired and happy and miles from home, they drew
up on a remote common far from habitations, turned the horse loose to
graze, and ate their simple supper sitting on the grass by the side of
the cart. Toad talked big about all he was going to do in the days to
come, while stars grew fuller and larger all around them, and a yellow
moon, appearing suddenly and silently from nowhere in particular, came
to keep them company and listen to their talk. At last they turned in to
their little bunks in the cart; and Toad, kicking out his legs, sleepily
said, ‘Well, good night, you fellows! This is the real life for a
gentleman! Talk about your old river!’

‘I DON’T talk about my river,’ replied the patient Rat. ‘You KNOW I
don’t, Toad. But I THINK about it,’ he added pathetically, in a lower
tone: ‘I think about it--all the time!’

The Mole reached out from under his blanket, felt for the Rat’s paw in
the darkness, and gave it a squeeze. ‘I’ll do whatever you like, Ratty,’
he whispered. ‘Shall we run away to-morrow morning, quite early--VERY
early--and go back to our dear old hole on the river?’

‘No, no, we’ll see it out,’ whispered back the Rat. ‘Thanks awfully, but
I ought to stick by Toad till this trip is ended. It wouldn’t be safe
for him to be left to himself. It won’t take very long. His fads never
do. Good night!’

The end was indeed nearer than even the Rat suspected.

After so much open air and excitement the Toad slept very soundly, and
no amount of shaking could rouse him out of bed next morning. So the
Mole and Rat turned to, quietly and manfully, and while the Rat saw to
the horse, and lit a fire, and cleaned last night’s cups and platters,
and got things ready for breakfast, the Mole trudged off to the nearest
village, a long way off, for milk and eggs and various necessaries the
Toad had, of course, forgotten to provide. The hard work had all been
done, and the two animals were resting, thoroughly exhausted, by
the time Toad appeared on the scene, fresh and gay, remarking what a
pleasant easy life it was they were all leading now, after the cares and
worries and fatigues of housekeeping at home.

They had a pleasant ramble that day over grassy downs and along narrow
by-lanes, and camped as before, on a common, only this time the
two guests took care that Toad should do his fair share of work. In
consequence, when the time came for starting next morning, Toad was by
no means so rapturous about the simplicity of the primitive life, and
indeed attempted to resume his place in his bunk, whence he was hauled
by force. Their way lay, as before, across country by narrow lanes, and
it was not till the afternoon that they came out on the high-road, their
first high-road; and there disaster, fleet and unforeseen, sprang out
on them--disaster momentous indeed to their expedition, but simply
overwhelming in its effect on the after-career of Toad.

They were strolling along the high-road easily, the Mole by the horse’s
head, talking to him, since the horse had complained that he was being
frightfully left out of it, and nobody considered him in the least;
the Toad and the Water Rat walking behind the cart talking together--at
least Toad was talking, and Rat was saying at intervals, ‘Yes,
precisely; and what did YOU say to HIM?’--and thinking all the time
of something very different, when far behind them they heard a faint
warning hum; like the drone of a distant bee. Glancing back, they saw a
small cloud of dust, with a dark centre of energy, advancing on them at
incredible speed, while from out the dust a faint ‘Poop-poop!’ wailed
like an uneasy animal in pain. Hardly regarding it, they turned to
resume their conversation, when in an instant (as it seemed) the
peaceful scene was changed, and with a blast of wind and a whirl of
sound that made them jump for the nearest ditch, It was on them! The
‘Poop-poop’ rang with a brazen shout in their ears, they had a moment’s
glimpse of an interior of glittering plate-glass and rich morocco, and
the magnificent motor-car, immense, breath-snatching, passionate, with
its pilot tense and hugging his wheel, possessed all earth and air for
the fraction of a second, flung an enveloping cloud of dust that blinded
and enwrapped them utterly, and then dwindled to a speck in the far
distance, changed back into a droning bee once more.

The old grey horse, dreaming, as he plodded along, of his quiet paddock,
in a new raw situation such as this simply abandoned himself to his
natural emotions. Rearing, plunging, backing steadily, in spite of
all the Mole’s efforts at his head, and all the Mole’s lively language
directed at his better feelings, he drove the cart backwards towards the
deep ditch at the side of the road. It wavered an instant--then there
was a heartrending crash--and the canary-coloured cart, their pride and
their joy, lay on its side in the ditch, an irredeemable wreck.

The Rat danced up and down in the road, simply transported with passion.
‘You villains!’ he shouted, shaking both fists, ‘You scoundrels, you
highwaymen, you--you--roadhogs!--I’ll have the law of you! I’ll report
you! I’ll take you through all the Courts!’ His home-sickness had quite
slipped away from him, and for the moment he was the skipper of the
canary-coloured vessel driven on a shoal by the reckless jockeying of
rival mariners, and he was trying to recollect all the fine and biting
things he used to say to masters of steam-launches when their wash, as
they drove too near the bank, used to flood his parlour-carpet at home.

Toad sat straight down in the middle of the dusty road, his legs
stretched out before him, and stared fixedly in the direction of the
disappearing motor-car. He breathed short, his face wore a placid
satisfied expression, and at intervals he faintly murmured ‘Poop-poop!’

The Mole was busy trying to quiet the horse, which he succeeded in
doing after a time. Then he went to look at the cart, on its side in the
ditch. It was indeed a sorry sight. Panels and windows smashed, axles
hopelessly bent, one wheel off, sardine-tins scattered over the wide
world, and the bird in the bird-cage sobbing pitifully and calling to be
let out.

The Rat came to help him, but their united efforts were not sufficient
to right the cart. ‘Hi! Toad!’ they cried. ‘Come and bear a hand, can’t
you!’

The Toad never answered a word, or budged from his seat in the road; so
they went to see what was the matter with him. They found him in a sort
of a trance, a happy smile on his face, his eyes still fixed on the
dusty wake of their destroyer. At intervals he was still heard to murmur
‘Poop-poop!’

The Rat shook him by the shoulder. ‘Are you coming to help us, Toad?’ he
demanded sternly.

‘Glorious, stirring sight!’ murmured Toad, never offering to move. ‘The
poetry of motion! The REAL way to travel! The ONLY way to travel! Here
to-day--in next week to-morrow! Villages skipped, towns and cities
jumped--always somebody else’s horizon! O bliss! O poop-poop! O my! O
my!’

‘O STOP being an ass, Toad!’ cried the Mole despairingly.

‘And to think I never KNEW!’ went on the Toad in a dreamy monotone. ‘All
those wasted years that lie behind me, I never knew, never even DREAMT!
But NOW--but now that I know, now that I fully realise! O what a flowery
track lies spread before me, henceforth! What dust-clouds shall spring
up behind me as I speed on my reckless way! What carts I shall fling
carelessly into the ditch in the wake of my magnificent onset! Horrid
little carts--common carts--canary-coloured carts!’

‘What are we to do with him?’ asked the Mole of the Water Rat.

‘Nothing at all,’ replied the Rat firmly. ‘Because there is really
nothing to be done. You see, I know him from of old. He is now
possessed. He has got a new craze, and it always takes him that way, in
its first stage. He’ll continue like that for days now, like an animal
walking in a happy dream, quite useless for all practical purposes.
Never mind him. Let’s go and see what there is to be done about the
cart.’

A careful inspection showed them that, even if they succeeded in
righting it by themselves, the cart would travel no longer. The axles
were in a hopeless state, and the missing wheel was shattered into
pieces.

The Rat knotted the horse’s reins over his back and took him by the
head, carrying the bird cage and its hysterical occupant in the other
hand. ‘Come on!’ he said grimly to the Mole. ‘It’s five or six miles to
the nearest town, and we shall just have to walk it. The sooner we make
a start the better.’

‘But what about Toad?’ asked the Mole anxiously, as they set off
together. ‘We can’t leave him here, sitting in the middle of the road
by himself, in the distracted state he’s in! It’s not safe. Supposing
another Thing were to come along?’

‘O, BOTHER Toad,’ said the Rat savagely; ‘I’ve done with him!’

They had not proceeded very far on their way, however, when there was a
pattering of feet behind them, and Toad caught them up and thrust a paw
inside the elbow of each of them; still breathing short and staring into
vacancy.

‘Now, look here, Toad!’ said the Rat sharply: ‘as soon as we get to the
town, you’ll have to go straight to the police-station, and see if they
know anything about that motor-car and who it belongs to, and lodge a
complaint against it. And then you’ll have to go to a blacksmith’s or a
wheelwright’s and arrange for the cart to be fetched and mended and
put to rights. It’ll take time, but it’s not quite a hopeless smash.
Meanwhile, the Mole and I will go to an inn and find comfortable rooms
where we can stay till the cart’s ready, and till your nerves have
recovered their shock.’

‘Police-station! Complaint!’ murmured Toad dreamily. ‘Me COMPLAIN of that
beautiful, that heavenly vision that has been vouchsafed me! MEND THE
CART! I’ve done with carts for ever. I never want to see the cart, or to
hear of it, again. O, Ratty! You can’t think how obliged I am to you for
consenting to come on this trip! I wouldn’t have gone without you,
and then I might never have seen that--that swan, that sunbeam, that
thunderbolt! I might never have heard that entrancing sound, or smelt
that bewitching smell! I owe it all to you, my best of friends!’

The Rat turned from him in despair. ‘You see what it is?’ he said to the
Mole, addressing him across Toad’s head: ‘He’s quite hopeless. I give
it up--when we get to the town we’ll go to the railway station, and
with luck we may pick up a train there that’ll get us back to riverbank
to-night. And if ever you catch me going a-pleasuring with this
provoking animal again!’--He snorted, and during the rest of that weary trudge addressed his
remarks exclusively to Mole.

On reaching the town they went straight to the station and deposited
Toad in the second-class waiting-room, giving a porter twopence to keep
a strict eye on him. They then left the horse at an inn stable, and gave
what directions they could about the cart and its contents. Eventually,
a slow train having landed them at a station not very far from Toad
Hall, they escorted the spell-bound, sleep-walking Toad to his door, put
him inside it, and instructed his housekeeper to feed him, undress him,
and put him to bed. Then they got out their boat from the boat-house,
sculled down the river home, and at a very late hour sat down to
supper in their own cosy riverside parlour, to the Rat’s great joy and
contentment.

The following evening the Mole, who had risen late and taken things very
easy all day, was sitting on the bank fishing, when the Rat, who had
been looking up his friends and gossiping, came strolling along to
find him. ‘Heard the news?’ he said. ‘There’s nothing else being talked
about, all along the river bank. Toad went up to Town by an early train
this morning. And he has ordered a large and very expensive motor-car.’

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