الفصل الفصل 12 · THE RETURN OF ULYSSES

. THE RETURN OF ULYSSES

When it began to grow dark, the Rat, with an air of excitement and

mystery, summoned them back into the parlour, stood each of them up

alongside of his little heap, and proceeded to dress them up for the

coming expedition. He was very earnest and thoroughgoing about it, and

the affair took quite a long time. First, there was a belt to go round

each animal, and then a sword to be stuck into each belt, and then a

cutlass on the other side to balance it. Then a pair of pistols, a

policeman’s truncheon, several sets of handcuffs, some bandages and

sticking-plaster, and a flask and a sandwich-case. The Badger laughed

good-humouredly and said, “All right, Ratty! It amuses you and it

doesn’t hurt me. I’m going to do all I’ve got to do with this here

stick.” But the Rat only said, “_please_, Badger. You know I shouldn’t

like you to blame me afterwards and say I had forgotten _anything!_”

When all was quite ready, the Badger took a dark lantern in one paw,

grasped his great stick with the other, and said, “Now then, follow me!

Mole first, “cos I’m very pleased with him; Rat next; Toad last. And

look here, Toady! Don’t you chatter so much as usual, or you’ll be sent

back, as sure as fate!”

The Toad was so anxious not to be left out that he took up the inferior

position assigned to him without a murmur, and the animals set off. The

Badger led them along by the river for a little way, and then suddenly

swung himself over the edge into a hole in the river-bank, a little

above the water. The Mole and the Rat followed silently, swinging

themselves successfully into the hole as they had seen the Badger do;

but when it came to Toad’s turn, of course he managed to slip and fall

into the water with a loud splash and a squeal of alarm. He was hauled

out by his friends, rubbed down and wrung out hastily, comforted, and

set on his legs; but the Badger was seriously angry, and told him that

the very next time he made a fool of himself he would most certainly be

left behind.

So at last they were in the secret passage, and the cutting-out

expedition had really begun!

It was cold, and dark, and damp, and low, and narrow, and poor Toad

began to shiver, partly from dread of what might be before him, partly

because he was wet through. The lantern was far ahead, and he could not

help lagging behind a little in the darkness. Then he heard the Rat

call out warningly, “_Come_ on, Toad!” and a terror seized him of being

left behind, alone in the darkness, and he “came on” with such a rush

that he upset the Rat into the Mole and the Mole into the Badger, and

for a moment all was confusion. The Badger thought they were being

attacked from behind, and, as there was no room to use a stick or a

cutlass, drew a pistol, and was on the point of putting a bullet into

Toad. When he found out what had really happened he was very angry

indeed, and said, “Now this time that tiresome Toad _shall_ be left

behind!”

But Toad whimpered, and the other two promised that they would be

answerable for his good conduct, and at last the Badger was pacified,

and the procession moved on; only this time the Rat brought up the

rear, with a firm grip on the shoulder of Toad.

So they groped and shuffled along, with their ears pricked up and their

paws on their pistols, till at last the Badger said, “We ought by now

to be pretty nearly under the Hall.”

Then suddenly they heard, far away as it might be, and yet apparently

nearly over their heads, a confused murmur of sound, as if people were

shouting and cheering and stamping on the floor and hammering on

tables. The Toad’s nervous terrors all returned, but the Badger only

remarked placidly, “They _are_ going it, the Weasels!”

The passage now began to slope upwards; they groped onward a little

further, and then the noise broke out again, quite distinct this time,

and very close above them. “Ooo-ray-ooray-oo-ray-ooray!” they heard,

and the stamping of little feet on the floor, and the clinking of

glasses as little fists pounded on the table. “_What_ a time they’re

having!” said the Badger. “Come on!” They hurried along the passage

till it came to a full stop, and they found themselves standing under

the trap-door that led up into the butler’s pantry.

Such a tremendous noise was going on in the banqueting-hall that there

was little danger of their being overheard. The Badger said, “Now,

boys, all together!” and the four of them put their shoulders to the

trap-door and heaved it back. Hoisting each other up, they found

themselves standing in the pantry, with only a door between them and

the banqueting-hall, where their unconscious enemies were carousing.

The noise, as they emerged from the passage, was simply deafening. At

last, as the cheering and hammering slowly subsided, a voice could be

made out saying, “Well, I do not propose to detain you much

longer”—(great applause)—“but before I resume my seat”—(renewed

cheering)—“I should like to say one word about our kind host, Mr. Toad.

We all know Toad!”—(great laughter)—“_Good_ Toad, _modest_ Toad,

_honest_ Toad!” (shrieks of merriment).

“Only just let me get at him!” muttered Toad, grinding his teeth.

“Hold hard a minute!” said the Badger, restraining him with difficulty.

“Get ready, all of you!”

“—Let me sing you a little song,” went on the voice, “which I have

composed on the subject of Toad”—(prolonged applause).

Then the Chief Weasel—for it was he—began in a high, squeaky voice—

“Toad he went a-pleasuring

Gaily down the street—”

The Badger drew himself up, took a firm grip of his stick with both

paws, glanced round at his comrades, and cried—

“The hour is come! Follow me!”

And flung the door open wide.

My!

What a squealing and a squeaking and a screeching filled the air!

Well might the terrified weasels dive under the tables and spring madly

up at the windows! Well might the ferrets rush wildly for the fireplace

and get hopelessly jammed in the chimney! Well might tables and chairs

be upset, and glass and china be sent crashing on the floor, in the

panic of that terrible moment when the four Heroes strode wrathfully

into the room! The mighty Badger, his whiskers bristling, his great

cudgel whistling through the air; Mole, black and grim, brandishing his

stick and shouting his awful war-cry, “A Mole! A Mole!” Rat; desperate

and determined, his belt bulging with weapons of every age and every

variety; Toad, frenzied with excitement and injured pride, swollen to

twice his ordinary size, leaping into the air and emitting Toad-whoops

that chilled them to the marrow! “Toad he went a-pleasuring!” he

yelled. “_I’ll_ pleasure ’em!” and he went straight for the Chief

Weasel. They were but four in all, but to the panic-stricken weasels

the hall seemed full of monstrous animals, grey, black, brown and

yellow, whooping and flourishing enormous cudgels; and they broke and

fled with squeals of terror and dismay, this way and that, through the

windows, up the chimney, anywhere to get out of reach of those terrible

sticks.

The affair was soon over. Up and down, the whole length of the hall,

strode the four Friends, whacking with their sticks at every head that

showed itself; and in five minutes the room was cleared. Through the

broken windows the shrieks of terrified weasels escaping across the

lawn were borne faintly to their ears; on the floor lay prostrate some

dozen or so of the enemy, on whom the Mole was busily engaged in

fitting handcuffs. The Badger, resting from his labours, leant on his

stick and wiped his honest brow.

“Mole,” he said,” “you’re the best of fellows! Just cut along outside

and look after those stoat-sentries of yours, and see what they’re

doing. I’ve an idea that, thanks to you, we shan’t have much trouble

from _them_ to-night!”

The Mole vanished promptly through a window; and the Badger bade the

other two set a table on its legs again, pick up knives and forks and

plates and glasses from the _débris_ on the floor, and see if they

could find materials for a supper. “I want some grub, I do,” he said,

in that rather common way he had of speaking. “Stir your stumps, Toad,

and look lively! We’ve got your house back for you, and you don’t offer

us so much as a sandwich.” Toad felt rather hurt that the Badger didn’t

say pleasant things to him, as he had to the Mole, and tell him what a

fine fellow he was, and how splendidly he had fought; for he was rather

particularly pleased with himself and the way he had gone for the Chief

Weasel and sent him flying across the table with one blow of his stick.

But he bustled about, and so did the Rat, and soon they found some

guava jelly in a glass dish, and a cold chicken, a tongue that had

hardly been touched, some trifle, and quite a lot of lobster salad; and

in the pantry they came upon a basketful of French rolls and any

quantity of cheese, butter, and celery. They were just about to sit

down when the Mole clambered in through the window, chuckling, with an

armful of rifles.

“It’s all over,” he reported. “From what I can make out, as soon as the

stoats, who were very nervous and jumpy already, heard the shrieks and

the yells and the uproar inside the hall, some of them threw down their

rifles and fled. The others stood fast for a bit, but when the weasels

came rushing out upon them they thought they were betrayed; and the

stoats grappled with the weasels, and the weasels fought to get away,

and they wrestled and wriggled and punched each other, and rolled over

and over, till most of ’em rolled into the river! They’ve all

disappeared by now, one way or another; and I’ve got their rifles. So

_that’s_ all right!”

“Excellent and deserving animal!” said the Badger, his mouth full of

chicken and trifle. “Now, there’s just one more thing I want you to do,

Mole, before you sit down to your supper along of us; and I wouldn’t

trouble you only I know I can trust you to see a thing done, and I wish

I could say the same of every one I know. I’d send Rat, if he wasn’t a

poet. I want you to take those fellows on the floor there upstairs with

you, and have some bedrooms cleaned out and tidied up and made really

comfortable. See that they sweep _under_ the beds, and put clean sheets

and pillow-cases on, and turn down one corner of the bed-clothes, just

as you know it ought to be done; and have a can of hot water, and clean

towels, and fresh cakes of soap, put in each room. And then you can

give them a licking a-piece, if it’s any satisfaction to you, and put

them out by the back-door, and we shan’t see any more of _them_, I

fancy. And then come along and have some of this cold tongue. It’s

first rate. I’m very pleased with you, Mole!”

The goodnatured Mole picked up a stick, formed his prisoners up in a

line on the floor, gave them the order “Quick march!” and led his squad

off to the upper floor. After a time, he appeared again, smiling, and

said that every room was ready, and as clean as a new pin. “And I

didn’t have to lick them, either,” he added. “I thought, on the whole,

they had had licking enough for one night, and the weasels, when I put

the point to them, quite agreed with me, and said they wouldn’t think

of troubling me. They were very penitent, and said they were extremely

sorry for what they had done, but it was all the fault of the Chief

Weasel and the stoats, and if ever they could do anything for us at any

time to make up, we had only got to mention it. So I gave them a roll

a-piece, and let them out at the back, and off they ran, as hard as

they could!”

Then the Mole pulled his chair up to the table, and pitched into the

cold tongue; and Toad, like the gentleman he was, put all his jealousy

from him, and said heartily, “Thank you kindly, dear Mole, for all your

pains and trouble tonight, and especially for your cleverness this

morning!” The Badger was pleased at that, and said, “There spoke my

brave Toad!” So they finished their supper in great joy and

contentment, and presently retired to rest between clean sheets, safe

in Toad’s ancestral home, won back by matchless valour, consummate

strategy, and a proper handling of sticks.

The following morning, Toad, who had overslept himself as usual, came

down to breakfast disgracefully late, and found on the table a certain

quantity of egg-shells, some fragments of cold and leathery toast, a

coffee-pot three-fourths empty, and really very little else; which did

not tend to improve his temper, considering that, after all, it was his

own house. Through the French windows of the breakfast-room he could

see the Mole and the Water Rat sitting in wicker-chairs out on the

lawn, evidently telling each other stories; roaring with laughter and

kicking their short legs up in the air. The Badger, who was in an

arm-chair and deep in the morning paper, merely looked up and nodded

when Toad entered the room. But Toad knew his man, so he sat down and

made the best breakfast he could, merely observing to himself that he

would get square with the others sooner or later. When he had nearly

finished, the Badger looked up and remarked rather shortly: “I’m sorry,

Toad, but I’m afraid there’s a heavy morning’s work in front of you.

You see, we really ought to have a Banquet at once, to celebrate this

affair. It’s expected of you—in fact, it’s the rule.”

“O, all right!” said the Toad, readily. “Anything to oblige. Though why

on earth you should want to have a Banquet in the morning I cannot

understand. But you know I do not live to please myself, but merely to

find out what my friends want, and then try and arrange it for ’em, you

dear old Badger!”

“Don’t pretend to be stupider than you really are,” replied the Badger,

crossly; “and don’t chuckle and splutter in your coffee while you’re

talking; it’s not manners. What I mean is, the Banquet will be at

night, of course, but the invitations will have to be written and got

off at once, and you’ve got to write ’em. Now, sit down at that

table—there’s stacks of letter-paper on it, with ‘Toad Hall’ at the top

in blue and gold—and write invitations to all our friends, and if you

stick to it we shall get them out before luncheon. And _I’ll_ bear a

hand, too; and take my share of the burden. _I’ll_ order the Banquet.”

“What!” cried Toad, dismayed. “Me stop indoors and write a lot of

rotten letters on a jolly morning like this, when I want to go around

my property, and set everything and everybody to rights, and swagger

about and enjoy myself! Certainly not! I’ll be—I’ll see you——Stop a

minute, though! Why, of course, dear Badger! What is my pleasure or

convenience compared with that of others! You wish it done, and it

shall be done. Go, Badger, order the Banquet, order what you like; then

join our young friends outside in their innocent mirth, oblivious of me

and my cares and toils. I sacrifice this fair morning on the altar of

duty and friendship!”

The Badger looked at him very suspiciously, but Toad’s frank, open

countenance made it difficult to suggest any unworthy motive in this

change of attitude. He quitted the room, accordingly, in the direction

of the kitchen, and as soon as the door had closed behind him, Toad

hurried to the writing-table. A fine idea had occurred to him while he

was talking. He _would_ write the invitations; and he would take care

to mention the leading part he had taken in the fight, and how he had

laid the Chief Weasel flat; and he would hint at his adventures, and

what a career of triumph he had to tell about; and on the fly-leaf he

would set out a sort of a programme of entertainment for the

evening—something like this, as he sketched it out in his head:—

SPEECH. . . . BY TOAD.

(There will be other speeches by TOAD during the evening.)

ADDRESS. . . BY TOAD

SYNOPSIS—Our Prison System—the Waterways of Old England—Horse-dealing,

and how to deal—Property, its rights and its duties—Back to the Land—A

Typical English Squire.

SONG. . . . BY TOAD.

(Composed by himself.)

OTHER COMPOSITIONS. BY TOAD

will be sung in the course of the evening by the. . . COMPOSER.

The idea pleased him mightily, and he worked very hard and got all the

letters finished by noon, at which hour it was reported to him that

there was a small and rather bedraggled weasel at the door, inquiring

timidly whether he could be of any service to the gentlemen. Toad

swaggered out and found it was one of the prisoners of the previous

evening, very respectful and anxious to please. He patted him on the

head, shoved the bundle of invitations into his paw, and told him to

cut along quick and deliver them as fast as he could, and if he liked

to come back again in the evening, perhaps there might be a shilling

for him, or, again, perhaps there mightn’t; and the poor weasel seemed

really quite grateful, and hurried off eagerly to do his mission.

When the other animals came back to luncheon, very boisterous and

breezy after a morning on the river, the Mole, whose conscience had

been pricking him, looked doubtfully at Toad, expecting to find him

sulky or depressed. Instead, he was so uppish and inflated that the

Mole began to suspect something; while the Rat and the Badger exchanged

significant glances.

As soon as the meal was over, Toad thrust his paws deep into his

trouser-pockets, remarked casually, “Well, look after yourselves, you

fellows! Ask for anything you want!” and was swaggering off in the

direction of the garden, where he wanted to think out an idea or two

for his coming speeches, when the Rat caught him by the arm.

Toad rather suspected what he was after, and did his best to get away;

but when the Badger took him firmly by the other arm he began to see

that the game was up. The two animals conducted him between them into

the small smoking-room that opened out of the entrance-hall, shut the

door, and put him into a chair. Then they both stood in front of him,

while Toad sat silent and regarded them with much suspicion and

ill-humour.

“Now, look here, Toad,” said the Rat. “It’s about this Banquet, and

very sorry I am to have to speak to you like this. But we want you to

understand clearly, once and for all, that there are going to be no

speeches and no songs. Try and grasp the fact that on this occasion

we’re not arguing with you; we’re just telling you.”

Toad saw that he was trapped. They understood him, they saw through

him, they had got ahead of him. His pleasant dream was shattered.

“Mayn’t I sing them just one _little_ song?” he pleaded piteously.

“No, not _one_ little song,” replied the Rat firmly, though his heart

bled as he noticed the trembling lip of the poor disappointed Toad.

“It’s no good, Toady; you know well that your songs are all conceit and

boasting and vanity; and your speeches are all self-praise

and—and—well, and gross exaggeration and—and——”

“And gas,” put in the Badger, in his common way.

“It’s for your own good, Toady,” went on the Rat. “You know you _must_

turn over a new leaf sooner or later, and now seems a splendid time to

begin; a sort of turning-point in your career. Please don’t think that

saying all this doesn’t hurt me more than it hurts you.”

Toad remained a long while plunged in thought. At last he raised his

head, and the traces of strong emotion were visible on his features.

“You have conquered, my friends,” he said in broken accents. “It was,

to be sure, but a small thing that I asked—merely leave to blossom and

expand for yet one more evening, to let myself go and hear the

tumultuous applause that always seems to me—somehow—to bring out my

best qualities. However, you are right, I know, and I am wrong. Hence

forth I will be a very different Toad. My friends, you shall never have

occasion to blush for me again. But, O dear, O dear, this is a hard

world!”

And, pressing his handkerchief to his face, he left the room, with

faltering footsteps.

“Badger,” said the Rat, “_I_ feel like a brute; I wonder what _you_

feel like?”

“O, I know, I know,” said the Badger gloomily. “But the thing had to be

done. This good fellow has got to live here, and hold his own, and be

respected. Would you have him a common laughing-stock, mocked and

jeered at by stoats and weasels?”

“Of course not,” said the Rat. “And, talking of weasels, it’s lucky we

came upon that little weasel, just as he was setting out with Toad’s

invitations. I suspected something from what you told me, and had a

look at one or two; they were simply disgraceful. I confiscated the

lot, and the good Mole is now sitting in the blue boudoir, filling up

plain, simple invitation cards.”

At last the hour for the banquet began to draw near, and Toad, who on

leaving the others had retired to his bedroom, was still sitting there,

melancholy and thoughtful. His brow resting on his paw, he pondered

long and deeply. Gradually his countenance cleared, and he began to

smile long, slow smiles. Then he took to giggling in a shy,

self-conscious manner. At last he got up, locked the door, drew the

curtains across the windows, collected all the chairs in the room and

arranged them in a semicircle, and took up his position in front of

them, swelling visibly. Then he bowed, coughed twice, and, letting

himself go, with uplifted voice he sang, to the enraptured audience

that his imagination so clearly saw.

TOAD’S LAST LITTLE SONG!

The Toad—came—home!

There was panic in the parlours and howling in the halls,

There was crying in the cow-sheds and shrieking in the stalls,

When the Toad—came—home!

When the Toad—came—home!

There was smashing in of window and crashing in of door,

There was chivvying of weasels that fainted on the floor,

When the Toad—came—home!

Bang! go the drums!

The trumpeters are tooting and the soldiers are saluting,

And the cannon they are shooting and the motor-cars are hooting,

As the—Hero—comes!

Shout—Hoo-ray!

And let each one of the crowd try and shout it very loud,

In honour of an animal of whom you’re justly proud,

For it’s Toad’s—great—day!

He sang this very loud, with great unction and expression; and when he

had done, he sang it all over again.

Then he heaved a deep sigh; a long, long, long sigh.

Then he dipped his hairbrush in the water-jug, parted his hair in the

middle, and plastered it down very straight and sleek on each side of

his face; and, unlocking the door, went quietly down the stairs to

greet his guests, who he knew must be assembling in the drawing-room.

All the animals cheered when he entered, and crowded round to

congratulate him and say nice things about his courage, and his

cleverness, and his fighting qualities; but Toad only smiled faintly,

and murmured, “Not at all!” Or, sometimes, for a change, “On the

contrary!” Otter, who was standing on the hearthrug, describing to an

admiring circle of friends exactly how he would have managed things had

he been there, came forward with a shout, threw his arm round Toad’s

neck, and tried to take him round the room in triumphal progress; but

Toad, in a mild way, was rather snubby to him, remarking gently, as he

disengaged himself, “Badger’s was the mastermind; the Mole and the

Water Rat bore the brunt of the fighting; I merely served in the ranks

and did little or nothing.” The animals were evidently puzzled and

taken aback by this unexpected attitude of his; and Toad felt, as he

moved from one guest to the other, making his modest responses, that he

was an object of absorbing interest to every one.

The Badger had ordered everything of the best, and the banquet was a

great success. There was much talking and laughter and chaff among the

animals, but through it all Toad, who of course was in the chair,

looked down his nose and murmured pleasant nothings to the animals on

either side of him. At intervals he stole a glance at the Badger and

the Rat, and always when he looked they were staring at each other with

their mouths open; and this gave him the greatest satisfaction. Some of

the younger and livelier animals, as the evening wore on, got

whispering to each other that things were not so amusing as they used

to be in the good old days; and there were some knockings on the table

and cries of “Toad! Speech! Speech from Toad! Song! Mr. Toad’s song!”

But Toad only shook his head gently, raised one paw in mild protest,

and, by pressing delicacies on his guests, by topical small-talk, and

by earnest inquiries after members of their families not yet old enough

to appear at social functions, managed to convey to them that this

dinner was being run on strictly conventional lines.

He was indeed an altered Toad!

After this climax, the four animals continued to lead their lives, so

rudely broken in upon by civil war, in great joy and contentment,

undisturbed by further risings or invasions. Toad, after due

consultation with his friends, selected a handsome gold chain and

locket set with pearls, which he dispatched to the gaoler’s daughter

with a letter that even the Badger admitted to be modest, grateful, and

appreciative; and the engine-driver, in his turn, was properly thanked

and compensated for all his pains and trouble. Under severe compulsion

from the Badger, even the barge-woman was, with some trouble, sought

out and the value of her horse discreetly made good to her; though Toad

kicked terribly at this, holding himself to be an instrument of Fate,

sent to punish fat women with mottled arms who couldn’t tell a real

gentleman when they saw one. The amount involved, it was true, was not

very burdensome, the gipsy’s valuation being admitted by local

assessors to be approximately correct.

Sometimes, in the course of long summer evenings, the friends would

take a stroll together in the Wild Wood, now successfully tamed so far

as they were concerned; and it was pleasing to see how respectfully

they were greeted by the inhabitants, and how the mother-weasels would

bring their young ones to the mouths of their holes, and say, pointing,

“Look, baby! There goes the great Mr. Toad! And that’s the gallant

Water Rat, a terrible fighter, walking along o’ him! And yonder comes

the famous Mr. Mole, of whom you so often have heard your father tell!”

But when their infants were fractious and quite beyond control, they

would quiet them by telling how, if they didn’t hush them and not fret

them, the terrible grey Badger would up and get them. This was a base

libel on Badger, who, though he cared little about Society, was rather

fond of children; but it never failed to have its full effect.