第 三 章 · THE WILD WOOD

. THE WILD WOOD

The Mole had long wanted to make the acquaintance of the Badger. He

seemed, by all accounts, to be such an important personage and, though

rarely visible, to make his unseen influence felt by everybody about

the 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 then

I’ll introduce you. The best of fellows! But you must not only take him

_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, and

invitations, 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, quite

alarmed. “He’s so very shy, he’d be sure to be offended. I’ve never

even ventured to call on him at his own home myself, though I know him

so well. Besides, we can’t. It’s quite out of the question, because he

lives in the very middle of the Wild Wood.”

“Well, supposing he does,” said the Mole. “You told me the Wild Wood

was all right, you know.”

“O, I know, I know, so it is,” replied the Rat evasively. “But I think

we won’t go there just now. Not _just_ yet. It’s a long way, and he

wouldn’t be at home at this time of year anyhow, and he’ll be coming

along 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 was

long over, and cold and frost and miry ways kept them much indoors, and

the swollen river raced past outside their windows with a speed that

mocked at boating of any sort or kind, that he found his thoughts

dwelling again with much persistence on the solitary grey Badger, who

lived his own life by himself, in his hole in the middle of the Wild

Wood.

In the winter time the Rat slept a great deal, retiring early and

rising late. During his short day he sometimes scribbled poetry or did

other small domestic jobs about the house; and, of course, there were

always animals dropping in for a chat, and consequently there was a

good deal of story-telling and comparing notes on the past summer and

all 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 pageant

of the river bank had marched steadily along, unfolding itself in

scene-pictures that succeeded each other in stately procession. Purple

loosestrife arrived early, shaking luxuriant tangled locks along the

edge 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

its place in the line; and at last one morning the diffident and

delaying dog-rose stepped delicately on the stage, and one knew, as if

string-music had announced it in stately chords that strayed into a

gavotte, that June at last was here. One member of the company was

still awaited; the shepherd-boy for the nymphs to woo, the knight for

whom the ladies waited at the window, the prince that was to kiss the

sleeping summer back to life and love. But when meadow-sweet, debonair

and odorous 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 while

wind and rain were battering at their doors, recalled still keen

mornings, an hour before sunrise, when the white mist, as yet

undispersed, clung closely along the surface of the water; then the

shock of the early plunge, the scamper along the bank, and the radiant

transformation of earth, air, and water, when suddenly the sun was with

them again, and grey was gold and colour was born and sprang out of the

earth once more. They recalled the languorous siesta of hot mid-day,

deep in green undergrowth, the sun striking through in tiny golden

shafts and spots; the boating and bathing of the afternoon, the rambles

along dusty lanes and through yellow cornfields; and the long, cool

evening at last, when so many threads were gathered up, so many

friendships rounded, and so many adventures planned for the morrow.

There was plenty to talk about on those short winter days when the

animals found themselves round the fire; still, the Mole had a good

deal of spare time on his hands, and so one afternoon, when the Rat in

his arm-chair before the blaze was alternately dozing and trying over

rhymes that wouldn’t fit, he formed the resolution to go out by himself

and explore the Wild Wood, and perhaps strike up an acquaintance with