Wood Magic: A Fable
The next morning passed quickly, Bevis having so much to do. Hur-hur,
the pig, asked him to dig up some earth-nuts for him with his knife, for
the ground was hard from the heat of the sun, and he could not thrust
his snout in. Then Pan, the spaniel, had to be whipped very severely
because he would not climb a tree; and so the morning was taken up.
After the noontide heat had decreased, Bevis again started, and found
his way by the aid of the oak to the corner of the wheat-field. The
dragon-fly was waiting for him with a message from the hare, saying that
she had been invited to a party on the hills, so the dragon-fly would
guide him into the copse.
Flying before him, the dragon-fly led the way, often going a long
distance ahead, and coming back in a minute, for he moved so rapidly it
was not possible for Bevis to keep pace with him, and he was too
restless to stand still. Bevis walked carefully over the bridge, holding
to the rail, as the toad had told him; and passing the thistles, and the
grass, and the ferns, came to the piece of timber. There he sat down to
rest, while the dragon-fly played to and fro, now rising to the top of
the trees, and now darting down again, to show off his dexterity. While
he was sitting there a crow came along and looked at him hard, but said
nothing; and immediately afterwards a jackdaw went over, remarking what
a lovely day it was.
"Now take me to the raspberries," said Bevis; and the dragon-fly,
winding in and out the trees, brought him to the thicket, showed him the
place to creep in, and left, promising to return by-and-by and fetch him
when it was time to go home. Bevis, warm with walking in the sunshine,
after he had crept in to the raspberries, went across and sat down on
the moss under the oak; and he had hardly leant his back against the
tree than the squirrel came along the ground and sat beside him.
"You are just in time, my dear," he said, speaking low and rapidly, and
glancing round to see that no one was near; "for there is going to be a
secret council of the courtiers this afternoon, while Kapchack takes his
nap; and in order that none of the little birds may play the spy and
carry information to the police, Kauc, the crow, has been flying round
and driving them away, so that there is not so much as a robin left in
the copse. This is an employment that suits him very well, for he loves
to play the tyrant. Perhaps you saw him coming in. And this council is
about Kapchack's love affair, and to decide what is to be done, and
whether it can be put up with, or whether they must refuse to receive
her."
"And who is she?" said Bevis; "you keep on talking, but you do not tell
me." The squirrel pricked up his ears and looked cross, but he heard
the people coming to the council, and knew there was no time to be lost
in quarrelling, so he did not go off in a pet this time. "The lady is
the youngest jay, dear, in the wood; La Schach is her name; she is
sweetly pretty, and dresses charmingly in blue and brown. She is sweetly
pretty, though they say rather a flirt, and flighty in her ways. She has
captivated a great many with her bright colour, and now this toothless
old Kapchack--but hush! It is a terrible scandal. I hear them coming;
slip this way, Bevis dear."
Bevis went after him under the brambles and the ferns till he found a
place in a hollow ash-stole, where it was hung all round with
honeysuckle, and then, doing as the squirrel told him, he sat down, and
was quite concealed from sight; while the squirrel stopped on a bough
just over his head, where he could whisper and explain things. Though
Bevis was himself hidden, he could see very well; and he had not been
there a minute before he heard a rustling, and saw the fox come
stealthily out from the fern, and sit under an ancient hollow pollard
close by.
The stoat came close behind him; he was something like the weasel, and
they say a near relation; he is much bolder than the weasel, but not one
quarter so cunning. He is very jealous, too, of the power the weasel has
got on account of his cunning, and if he could he would strangle his
kinsman. The rat could not attend, having very important business at the
brook that day, but he had sent the mouse to listen and tell him all
that was said. The fox looked at the mouse askance from the corner of
his eye; and the stoat could not refrain from licking his lips, though
it was well understood that at these assemblies all private feelings
were to be rigidly suppressed. So that the mouse was quite safe; still,
seeing the fox's glance, and the stoat's teeth glistening, he kept very
near a little hole under a stole, where he could rush in if alarmed.
"I understood Prince Tchack-tchack was coming," said the fox, "but I
don't see him."
"I heard the same thing," said the stoat. "He's very much upset about
this business."
"Ah," said the fox, "perhaps he had an eye himself to this beautiful
young creature. Depend upon it there's more under the surface than we
have heard of yet." Just then a message came from the weasel regretting
very much that he could not be present, owing to indisposition, but
saying that he quite agreed with all that was going to be said, and that
he would act as the others decided, and follow them in all things. This
message was delivered by a humble-bee, who having repeated all the
weasel had told him to, went buzzing on among the thistles.
"I do not quite like this," said a deep hollow voice; and looking up,
Bevis saw the face of the owl at the mouth of a hole in the
pollard-tree. He was winking in the light, and could not persuade
himself to come out, which was the reason the council was held at the
foot of his house, as it was necessary he should take part in it. "I do
not quite like this," said the owl, very solemnly, "Is the weasel
sincere in all he says? Is he really unwell, or does he keep away in
order that if Kapchack hears of this meeting he may say: 'I was not
there. I did not take any part in it'?"
"That is very likely," said the stoat. "He is capable of anything--I say
it with sorrow, as he is so near a relation, but the fact is, gentlemen,
the weasel is not what he ought to be, and has, I am afraid, much
disgraced our family."
"Let us send for the weasel," said the hawk, who just then came and
alighted on the tree above the owl. "Perhaps the squirrel, who knows the
copse so well, will go and fetch him."
"I really do not know where he lives," said the squirrel. "I have not
seen him lately, and I am afraid he is keeping his bed." Then the
squirrel whispered down to Bevis: "That is not all true, but you see I
am obliged not to know too much, else I should offend somebody and do
myself no good".
"Well, then," said the rook, who had just arrived, "send the mouse; he
looks as if he wanted something to do."
"I cannot agree to that," said the owl; "the mouse is very clever, and
his opinion worthy of attention; we cannot spare him." The truth was,
the owl, squinting down, had seen what a plump mouse it was, and he
reflected that if the weasel saw him he would never rest till he had
tasted him, whereas he thought he should like to meet the mouse by
moonlight shortly. "Upon the whole, I really don't know that we need
send for the weasel," he went on, thinking that if the weasel came he
would fasten his affections upon the mouse.
"But I do," said the stoat.
"And so do I," said the fox.
"And I," said Kauc, the crow, settling down on a branch of the pollard.
"For my part," said Cloctaw, the old jackdaw, taking his seat on a
branch of horse-chestnut, "I think it is very disrespectful of the
weasel."
"True," said the wood-pigeon. "True-whoo," as he settled on the ash.
"Quite true-oo," repeated the dove, perching in the hawthorn.
"Send for the weasel, then," said a missel-thrush, also perching in the
hawthorn. "Why all this delay? I am for action. Send for the weasel
immediately."
"Really, gentlemen," said the mouse, not at all liking the prospect of a
private interview with the weasel, "you must remember that I have had a
long journey here, and I am not quite sure where the weasel lives at
present."
"The council is not complete without the weasel," screamed a jay, coming
up; he was in a terrible temper, for the lady jay whom Kapchack was in
love with had promised him her hand, till the opportunity of so much
grandeur turned her head, and she jilted him like a true daughter of the
family, as she was. For the jays are famous for jilting their lovers.
"If the mouse is afraid," said the jay, "I'll fetch the humble-bee
back, and if he won't come I'll speak a word to my friend the shrike,
and have him spitted on a thorn in a minute." Off he flew, and the
humble-bee, dreadfully frightened, came buzzing back directly.
"It falls upon you, as the oldest of the party, to give him his
commands," said Tchink, the chaffinch, addressing the owl. The owl
looked at the crow, and the crow scowled at the chaffinch, who turned
his back on him, being very saucy. He had watched his opportunity while
the crow went round the copse to drive away the small birds, and slipped
in to appear at the council. He was determined to assert his presence,
and take as much part as the others in these important events. If the
goldfinches, and the thrushes, and blackbirds, and robins, and
greenfinches, and sparrows, and so on, were so meek as to submit to be
excluded, and were content to have no voice in the matter till they were
called upon to obey orders, that was their affair. They were a bevy of
poor-spirited, mean things. He was not going to be put down like that.
Tchink was, indeed, a very impudent fellow: Bevis liked him directly,
and determined to have a chat with him by-and-by.
"If I am the oldest of the party, it is scarcely competent for you to
say so," said the owl with great dignity, opening his eyes to their full
extent, and glaring at Tchink.
"All right, old Spectacles," said Tchink; "you're not a bad sort of
fellow by daylight, though I have heard tales of your not behaving quite
so properly at night." Then catching sight of Bevis (for Tchink was
very quick) he flew over and settled near the squirrel, intending, if
any violence was offered to him, to ask Bevis for protection.
The owl, seeing the fox tittering, and the crow secretly pleased at this
remark, thought it best to take no notice, but ordered the humble-bee,
in the name of the council, to at once proceed to the weasel, and inform
him that the council was unable to accept his excuses, but was waiting
his arrival.
"Is Tchack-tchack coming?" asked the mouse, recovering his spirits now.
"I too-whoo should like to know if Tchack-tchack is coming," said the
wood-pigeon.
"And I so, too-oo," added the dove. "It seems to me a most important
matter."
"In my opinion," said Cloctaw, speaking rather huskily, for he was very
old, "Tchack-tchack will not come. I know him well--I can see through
him--he is a double-faced rascal like--like (he was going to say the
fox, but recollected himself in time) his--well, never matter; like all
his race then. My opinion is, he started the rumour that he was coming
just to get us together, and encourage us to conspire against his
father, in the belief that the heir was with us and approved of our
proceedings. But he never really meant to come."
"The jackdaw is very old," said the crow, with a sneer. "He is not what
he used to be, gentlemen, you must make allowance for his
infirmities."
"It seems to me," said the missel-thrush, interrupting, "that we are
wasting a great deal of time. I propose that we at once begin the
discussion, and then if the weasel and Tchack-tchack come they can join
in. I regret to say that my kinsman, the missel-thrush who frequents the