The Willows in Winter (10 page)

“Toad’ said the Badger very quietly, coming
closer, so that he looked down at Toad, and Toad was forced to look up at him,
“we shall leave to one side your secret acquisition of this — this thing, and
say only that it is possible, just possible, that you may redeem yourself
before further damage is done by making it available for one more flight before
it is returned forever to wherever you stole it from.”

“Returned?” faltered Toad.
“Returned?”

“Returned!” agreed the Rat.

“But it is not
stolen !
”
protested the grief-stricken Toad. “That it is not stolen is the only good
thing I have heard today,” said the Badger, “though why you should waste your
money — but enough of that. Would you like to know
why
we need it?”

“Well I would, of course I would, though I
daresay you wanted to try it out yourselves, and of course you
can
and
you
must
but — but not then to return it, to banish it, to —”

“Mole is lost’ said the Rat.

“‘Which mole?” repeated Toad, not understanding
him at
all.

“Your friend
Mole,” said the Badger. “The same Mole who has
helped you, listened to you, risked his life for you in the past.”

“O, Mole!” said Toad somewhat dismissively, his
desire to get aloft overwhelming his better nature.
“The one
who lives in Mole End.
Lost is he? Well he shouldn’t get into scrapes he
can’t get out of, should he? Me? Why, I fly down the river and far over the
‘Wide ‘World and back again and
I
don’t get lost, do I?”

“It may already be too late’ said the Rat,
ignoring Toad’s
splutterings
, “but in case it is not,
we intend to requisition your flying machine and search for him while we still
can — before darkness comes, and before the river rises further.”

Toad fell silent and listened to their quickly
told tale, beginning to wish he had not spoken so soon, but seeing a chance
that
if
Mole was found he might be allowed to keep his flying machine
after all.

“You should have explained sooner,” said Toad,
bursting into sudden tears.
“Of course
you can use my flying machine to
save Mole’s life.” Then, wiping his eyes and sniffing somewhat, he added in a
low obsequious voice, “I shall fly it myself—”

“I think that might be unwise, sir,” said the
pilot quietly behind him.

“Yes, yes it would’ agreed Toad hastily, “for
you will need someone who knows these parts and has some common sense as a
lookout, to spot Mole wherever he may be sending signals of distress up from
the flooding ground.”

“Quite so’ said the Badger. “
The
‘Water Rat has volunteered.
Pilot, prepare the machine. Refuel it or
whatever you must do!”

“I will, sir, and without delay!” said the
pilot, jumping to at this impressive command.

“Toad!” boomed the Badger. “Off with those
ill-fitting garments at once! Give them to Rat so that he can at least keep
warm.

Out-numbered and surrounded, Toad reluctantly did
as he was told, and watched the Rat quickly put on the splendid sheepskin
jacket, the modish leather headgear, the raffish goggles and finally the manly
parachute. But when he saw Rat heading for what had been his seat in the flying
machine, a look of grave alarm came over Toad’s face, quickly hidden by feigned
concern.

For as Toad had been displaced by the ‘Water
Rat he had had a glimpsed vision, a nightmare vision, of the national fame and
celebrity that would be gained by Rat instead of him. Rat the Hero! Rat the One
Who Cared! Rat the Bold and Brave! ‘Worse still, Rat the Honoured One — a Baron
possibly, a Baronet probably, a knighthood certainly! O yes, there could be no
doubt of something of the sort for whoever rescued Mole so bravely, and Toad could
see it all in every dreadful detail.

“And it
is
at my expense!” he fumed to
himself. “It is my machine, even if it is only on approval, so to speak. It is
my lawn. It is
my
opportunity!”

So, ever the schemer, not reformed at all, no
sooner had he seen this unpleasant vision than Toad had hatched a plot to
thwart it, and gain all the glory for
himself
. He
suddenly seemed positively filled with interest and concern about the coming
search, and as the others busied themselves getting ready, and discussing where
they might look, he began muttering such things as: “Poor Mole!” and “It
shouldn’t have happened to him of all animals” and “We must do all we can”.

Then, with a cry of “I should have thought of
it sooner!
”,
he dashed up the steps of Toad Hall,
summoned a servant, gave him some orders and dashed down again.

Toad filled with generosity and care?
Toad meek and mild and biddable?
Could this really be the
true Toad?

It could not, and Badger and Rat would have
known better had they not been so engrossed in making plans for the coming
flight, and they might have guessed that something was wrong, very wrong
indeed.

“My dear friends,” said Toad, his face now the
very picture of generosity and care — though had the Badger been less busy, and
the Rat not concerned with putting on the parachute, they might even then have
noticed that his eyes betrayed a certain resolute cunning. “I may have been
slow to respond to your call for help, but now I hope I may make recompense.
‘We must not delay, but flying is cold and tiring work and it would surely be
wise if our pilot-mechanic here had a quick hot drink before he bravely takes
to the skies again. Therefore I have had prepared for him — no, no, don’t
refuse, it is my pleasure — yes, just at the top of the steps, all ready and
waiting, yes —”

Before the pilot knew what was happening, Toad
led him up the steps and into the Hall.

“They’re taking an awfully long time,” said the
Rat impatiently after a while.

Almost as if he had heard this, Toad thrust his
head out of the French windows, and cried, “He’s nearly done, Ratty, and says
that to save time you’re to get in.

“‘Well, if it will hurry things along,” growled
the Rat.

“You go and get them moving, Badger, there’s a
good fellow. Toad’s probably gassing away and telling that poor pilot what a
glorious fellow he is, or showing him the family portraits!”

“Leave it to me,” said the Badger.

“Ah, Badger cried Toad, again from just inside
the door, “I was just about to suggest that you — yes, you’re cold too, no
doubt? No?
The pilot?
He’s just down there — yes, yes
—Badger had mounted the steps and disappeared inside at Toad’s siren call when
the Rat, left alone, climbed grumpily into the passenger seat of the flying
machine, which was not easy with a parachute attached to his front, and then
looked impatiently up at the Hall.

“Come on!” he called out.

“He’s coming!” he heard Toad’s voice shout.
“He’s almost ready!”

Then Toad’s voice again —”Good luck, sir! And
bless you for your courage!”

If only the Rat had not been adjusting the
cushions just then and strapping himself
in,
and
instead had been looking up towards Toad Hall. If only he had seen Toad, now
sporting the pilot’s leather headgear, peering shiftily outside towards the
machine as he panted with the exertion of overpowering and disrobing the pilot.

If only he had been watching more
carefully as Toad, with the sheepskin jacket and goggles completing his
disguise and a parachute attached to his front once more, lumbered down the
steps, accompanied by his own cries of, “Good luck, old fellow!
Good luck! Badger and I will be
cheering you brave fellows on, won’t we, Badger?”

Badger might indeed have done so, had Toad not
locked him in the smoking room after he had tied up the pilot, whence his cries
of rage and thumping at the oaken door issued forth in a muffled kind of way.

“Ha! Ha!” chortled Toad to himself as he
approached the machine, and before the Rat had a real chance to look at him, or
thought to ask himself why the pilot looked somewhat different — shorter,
fatter, much less nimble — it was too late! For without more ado Toad climbed
aboard and pressed the starter switch.

“Ho! Ho!” he chuckled as the engine started and
the machine jumped forward at his command.

“
Hee
!
Hee
!”
guffawed
Toad as the little machine raced down the lawn.
“This is easy, this is fun,
this
is what it’s all
about!”

If only, even then, Rat had put two and two
together he might still have had time to
unstrap
himself and leap clear as the flying machine, roaring and racing now, swerved
this way and that under Toad’s uncertain command, and finally lurched towards
the river.

But the Rat did not, feeling only some surprise
at the roughness of their passage, and then alarm and doubt as the machine tore
down towards the river and threatened to crash straight into it till, with a
last despairing shudder, it pulled itself up into the air, more of its own
volition than by Toad’s skill.

Then they were up and away, tearing once more
into the sky, with Toad so exultant that he half rose in his seat to wave one
hand and turn to the horrified Rat and laugh in his face.

“I’ve done it! I can fly! I can fly!”

V

Terra Firma

Any thought of actually looking for Mole that might originally have been
in Toad’s head went right out of it the moment he took off. Even then, he would
have had to be able to keep the machine steady, low and flying slowly enough
for the Water Rat to have any chance of looking over its side at the ground
below But Toad could do none of those things. The machine had a will of its
own, rushing forward and up through the air as Toad clung on to the joystick
with one hand and his seat with the other, disregarding utterly his own safety
and that of the Rat, and most of all the reason they were there in the first
place.

But so fast was their ascent, and so steep,
that far from looking over the side the Rat was forced down into his seat and
would have disappeared from sight altogether had he not clutched resolutely to
the varnished wood of the fuselage that surrounded it.

“Toad, you terrible and wicked Toad!” he
struggled to call out, though recriminations now were too late to be of use,
too late perhaps to save either of them from the dire consequences of Toad’s
selfish action. Which was all made worse for Rat by Toad’s wild cries of
triumph and delight as the machine wobbled this way and that as it flew upwards
ever faster, and then, just as the Rat was at last finding strength to pull
himself sufficiently high to see what was going on, plunged downwards, almost
hurling him out into the sky.

“Toad!” he shouted, grasping Toad’s
leather-clad shoulders and puffing the wretched animal as near to him as he
could — though this had the effect of sending the machine into a banking turn
so that the whole spectacle of the river, the meadows, the Wild Wood and then
Toad Hall came into view not quite beneath them so much as sliding by at an
angle to them. “Toad, take us down immediately!”

“I shan’t and I won’t and I — can’t!” cried
Toad exultantly, oblivious it seemed to the dreadful implications of what he
was saying.

“Well, at least —”

The Water Rat was going to tell Toad to attach
his parachute strap to the fuselage, for it was flapping uselessly in space,
when he realized that his own was doing the same. Always sensible and practical
in a crisis, the Rat attached Toad’s strap to a hook that he found, and then
his own. Not that Toad was interested to be told such things, for he ignored
the Rat’s further cries and warnings and turned to face the tilting, racing,
wonderful world of ground and sky.

The machine ducked and dived ever lower; it
circled Toad Hall; it soared again, whether at Toad’s command or of its own
volition none could say. Any hope of seeing the ground below for more than a
few moments was gone, and the only hope that remained was that they might by
some miracle get down onto terra firma once more and —But that was as far as
the Rat’s thoughts got before something happened that took him over completely.
They had soared high once more when, quite suddenly, the engine stopped. One
moment everything was all noise and confusion, and the next, with a splutter
and a grumble, the world was silent but for the most ominous sound the Rat had
ever heard in all his life: the sinister squeal and whine of wind in the wires,
and through the motionless propeller in front.