the wind in the willows(柳间风)-第8节
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slipped out of the warm parlour into the open air。 The country lay bare and
entirely leafless around him； and he thought that he had never seen so far
and so intimately into the insides of things as on that winter day when
Nature was deep in her annual slumber and seemed to have kicked the
clothes off。 Copses； dells； quarries and all hidden places； which had been
mysterious mines for exploration in leafy 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 and entice him with the old deceptions。 It
was pitiful in a way； and yet cheering even exhilarating。 He was glad that
he liked the country undecorated； hard； and stripped of its finery。 He had
got down to the bare bones of it； and they were fine and strong and simple。
He did not want the warm clover and the play of seeding grasses； the
screens of quickset； the billowy drapery of beech and elm seemed best
away； and with great cheerfulness of spirit he pushed on towards the Wild
Wood； which lay before him low and threatening； like a black reef in some
still southern sea。
There was nothing to alarm him at first entry。 Twigs crackled under his
feet； logs tripped him； funguses on stumps resembled caricatures； and
startled him for the moment by their likeness to something familiar and far
away； but that was all fun； and exciting。 It led him on； and he penetrated to
where the light was less； and trees crouched nearer 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 be
draining away like flood…water。
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Then the faces began。
It was over his shoulder； and indistinctly； that he first thought he saw a
face； a little evil wedge…shaped face； looking out at him from a hole。 When
he turned and confronted it； the thing had vanished。
He quickened his pace； telling himself cheerfully not to begin
imagining things； or there would be simply no end to it。 He passed another
hole； and another； and another； and thenyes！ no！yes！ certainly a little
narrow face； with hard eyes； had flashed up for an instant from a hole； and
was gone。 He hesitatedbraced himself up for an effort and strode on。
Then suddenly； and as if it had been so all the time； every hole； far and
near； and there were hundreds of them； seemed to possess its face； coming
and going rapidly； all fixing on him 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 into the
untrodden places of the wood。
Then the whistling began。
Very faint and shrill it was； and far behind him； when first he heard it；
but somehow it made him hurry forward。 Then； still very faint and shrill； it
sounded far ahead of him； and made him hesitate and want to go back。 As
he halted in indecision it broke out on either side； and seemed to be caught
up and passed on throughout the whole length of the wood to its farthest
limit。 They were up and alert and ready； evidently； whoever they were！
And hehe was alone； and unarmed； and far 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 delicate was
the sound of it。 Then as it grew it took a regular rhythm； and he knew it for
nothing else but the pat…pat…pat of little feet still a very long way off。 Was
it in front or behind？ It seemed to be first one； and then the other； then
both。 It grew and it multiplied； till from every quarter as he listened
anxiously； leaning this way and that； it seemed to be closing 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
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into a different course。 Instead； the animal almost brushed him as it dashed
past； his face set and hard； his eyes staring。 ‘Get out of this； you fool； get
out！' the Mole heard him mutter as he swung round a stump and
disappeared down a friendly burrow。
The pattering increased till it sounded like sudden hail on the dry leaf…
carpet spread around him。 The whole wood seemed running now； running
hard； hunting； chasing； closing in round something orsomebody？ In
panic； he began to run too； aimlessly； he knew not whither。 He ran up
against things； he fell over things and into things； he darted under things
and dodged round things。 At last he took refuge in the deep dark hollow of
an old beech tree； which offered shelter； concealmentperhaps even safety；
but who could tell？ Anyhow； he was too tired to run any further； and could
only snuggle down into the dry leaves which had drifted into the hollow
and hope he was safe for a time。 And as he lay there panting and trembling；
and listened to the whistlings and the patterings outside； he knew it at last；
in all its fullness； that dread thing which other little dwellers in field and
hedgerow had encountered here； and known as their darkest momentthat
thing which the Rat had vainly tried to shield him fromthe Terror of the
Wild Wood！
Meantime the Rat； warm and comfortable； dozed by his fireside。 His
paper of half…finished verses slipped from his knee； his head fell back； his
mouth opened； and he wandered by the verdant banks of dream…rivers。
Then a coal slipped； the fire crackled and sent up a spurt of flame； and he
woke with a start。 Remembering what he had been engaged upon； he
reached down to the floor for his verses； pored over them for a minute； and
then looked round for the Mole to ask him if he knew 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 up
and 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 of
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the ground outside； hoping to find the Mole's tracks。 There they were； sure
enough。 The goloshes were new； just bought for the winter； and the
pimples on their soles were fresh and sharp。 He could see the imprints 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 or
two。 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 stood in a corner of the
hall； and set off for the Wild Wood at a smart pace。
It was already getting towards dusk when he reached the first fringe of
trees and plunged without hesitation into the wood； looking anxiously on
either side for any sign of his friend。 Here and there wicked little faces
popped out of holes； but vanished immediately at sight of the valorous
animal； his pistols； and the great ugly cudgel in his grasp； and the
whistling and pattering； which he had heard quite plainly on his first entry；
died away and ceased； and all was very still。 He made his way manfully
through the length of the wood； to its furthest edge； then； forsaking all
paths； he set himself to traverse it； laboriously working over the whole
ground； and all the time calling out cheerfully； ‘Moly； Moly； Moly！ Where
are you？ It's meit's old Rat！'
He had patiently hunted through the wood for an hour or more； when
at last to his joy he heard a little answering cry。 Guiding himself by the
sound； he made his way through the gathering darkness to the foot of an
old beec
