A Book of Nimble Beasts

He combed his ears out, one by one

The morning breeze gained appetite and sent the woolscrap once more on its travels. Bunny Rabbit took no heed of it—he watched and heard the awakening of the wood. Bird notes, that in the burrow had been restful, now screamed and whistled in his ear. Out from the shelter-side of leaves, out from the heart of flowers, out from the grass-stems and from earth itself, came whirring, humming, buzzing insects. In this new myriad-peopled world there seemed small room for loneliness. A red mouse bobbed up from his hole, stared at him curiously, then whisked about and vanished. Bright eyes bejewelled the grass-tufts. Here a flick-footed lizard, here a slow-trailing blindworm, here a squat toad. The day-moths woke and flitted leaf to leaf. The bee-fly clambered up the thyme, poised hovering, vanished slantwise, and vanishing, reappeared.

This was full entertainment, and Bunny Rabbit stared round-eyed. He stared till hunger gripped him. His brothers, a bare hundred yards away, already had acquired the art of nibbling. He had no teacher, and no wits by which to teach himself. So, though food lay on every side, he starved. He felt a craving he had never known; a tightening of his fluffy body; an ache for Mother. Mother would set things straight for him, but where to find her was beyond his reasoning.

He wandered aimlessly this way and that; he nosed the bushes aimlessly; he stepped on Berus the Adder, because to him an adder, neatly coiled, was merely speckled ground.

Berus the Adder, though infuriate, forebore to strike. Venom is far too precious to be squandered, and baby rabbits are too large to swallow. He swayed his ugly head, and slowly, very slowly, he stretched forward. This was enough for Bunny Rabbit, who spun about and left the wind behind.

HE WATCHED AND HEARD THE AWAKENING OF THE WOOD

Before he had been lured by Hope, now Terror thrust her goad at him. He leapt two thorn-stumps blindly, and, stumbling, plunged head-deep into the ant-hill.

The ant-hill covers two square yards of ground, and every inch of it is peopled. Though soft, it is no place to fall on. Its citizens resent intrusion—nay, more, resent it actively.

When Bunny Rabbit reached the grass he felt the pricking of a thousand needles. The pain and smart of them half maddened him. He rolled upon his back; he scraped his neck on stones; he writhed; he bit himself.

The pain eased as his torturers dropped off him. Once more he tried to run, but in ten yards his strength was gone. His fore-paws flopped and stumbled, his hind paws dragged, his nose was bruised, his coat was hot and steamy. So he flung down bewildered, scraped an imaginary bed (a poor half-hearted scraping), slid out his feet, and lay full length, eyes closed.

Berus the Adder

Nothing now seemed to matter much. The hornet moth came whirring past his ears, he never heard it; the drone fly danced upon his nose, he never felt it; the Man lay almost at his side, he never saw him. Poor tired-out baby! Nature had ordered sleep and so he slept.

*****

The Man woke slowly. Nature had been his comfort, too, though sleep had not refreshed him. He rose half-dreaming, with a smile. "All right, little girl," he said; then his face tightened. "It's the same place," he muttered, "just where we lost the locket. First bluebell, then foxglove, then ragwort; blue, purple, and gold. It was the gold she loved."

The woodland rang with voices, but Bunny Rabbit slept until man spoke. Then he leapt up and found himself a prisoner.

"You sha'n't be hurt, Bunny," said the Man.

Bunny Rabbit ceased his wriggling, and lay quite limp, his eyes upturned, his nose a-quiver.

"Why lying in the open?" said the Man "foolish, foolish Bunny. What's to be done with you? Stoats and foxes and hawks, Bunny. You can't be left, that's certain. You can't be taken to your Mother, for I don't know your Mother. You can't be taken to your hole, for I don't know your hole. Hungry, Bunny? You look as though you'd travelled. Try some grass."

Bunny Rabbit knew nothing of grass and kept his teeth tight-clenched.

"You must eat something," said the Man.

He loosed one hand to reach a groundsel-top, and Bunny Rabbit, squirming clear, slipped deep into his pocket.

"Well, it's your own choice, Bunny. Now you come home with me."

It was dark and warm and soft inside the pocket. The Man took swinging downhill strides, and, at each stride, the folds changed shape. Now they were loose and twisty, and Bunny Rabbit stretched full length to fill them. Now they were tightened to a ball, and Bunny Rabbit tightened as the centre.

The Man paused as he reached the corn, and stepped two paces up again. He stooped, and Bunny Rabbit was inverted. He rose, and Bunny Rabbit found his feet. But now he was more cramped than ever. He lay deep in the farthest corner. Over, and on all sides of him, was packed a stifling mass of green.

Then Bunny Rabbit used his teeth, axe-fashion at first, but soon to better purpose. The lesson that he should have long since learnt was now enforced by circumstance.

He bit and tasted.

*****

"Bunny Rabbit," said the Man, "your ears are abnormal."

Bunny Rabbit lay crouched upon the hearthrug, blinking. At first he had found covert in the curtains, but these had been looped up. Then he had squeezed behind the bookcase and been, with difficulty, extracted. Then he had set himself to dig. The carpet had repaid him with some fluff. The doormat and the wicker chair seemed promising, but he made little headway, and so had lain down tired.

Lay full Length, Eyes closed

"Very abnormal ears, Bunny," the Man went on. "This smacks of the domestic. Then why so frightened?"

But Bunny Rabbit was more tired than frightened.

"More food, Bunny?" A bunch of green had lain upon the floor but every scrap had vanished.

"You've had enough for one day, Bunny. It's bedtime, up you come."

So Bunny Rabbit slept that night on blankets, he and the moonshine. The Man tossed restlessly and Bunny Rabbit watched his moving lips. Twilight crept in soft-footed, and Bunny Rabbit took three little jumps and wormed inside the bed-clothes.

*****

"Slept well, Bunny?" said the Man; "it's more than I have. I've made my mind up, Bunny. I'm going. I can't bear the house. I can't bear the rooms. They're empty, empty, empty."

The Man stepped slowly down the stairs and Bunny Rabbit stumbled after him. He reached the hall and paused, then caught up Bunny Rabbit, and once more ascended. He entered every upstairs room and gazed as though to clinch them on his memory. He entered every downstairs room, and in one room, the loneliest of all, he sat and cried his heart out.

*****

"We're homeless, Bunny Rabbit," said the Man. "But you're the better off, for your home's somewhere here."

They had got half-way up the slope. The Man stood tall among the ragwort, and Bunny Rabbit, with wide, frightened eyes, clung to his shoulder.

The Man stooped down, and Bunny Rabbit slid to earth.

"Now you must find your home or make one," said the Man, and Bunny Rabbit straightway tried to make one. He plunged his forepaws in the ground and scratched. The dust flew out behind and, in the midst, shot something hard and glittering.

It was a small gold locket.

The Man bent down and picked it up. He opened it and with dimmed eyes he kissed it.

"You've done me a good turn," he said—"of course it's pure coincidence," and Bunny Rabbit watched him out of sight.

Bunny Rabbit watched Him out of Sight

A BUTTERFLY PAINT-BOX

(MAY)

I WONDER how many of my young readers know why these dainty flying creatures are called "Butterflies"?