Wood Magic: A Fable
while he was trying to find a place to get through, he looked over and
spied a hare crouched in the rough grass, just under the hedge between
it and the wheat. The hare was lying on the ground; she did not move,
though she saw Bevis, and when he looked closer he saw that her big eyes
were full of tears. She was crying very bitterly, all by herself, while
the sun was shining so brightly, and the wind blowing so sweetly, and
the flowers smelling so pleasantly, and the lark sing, sing, singing
overhead.
"Oh! dear," said Bevis, so eager and so sorry, that he pushed against
the hedge, and did not notice that a thorn was pricking his arm:
"Whatever is the matter?" But the hare was so miserable she would not
answer him at first, till he coaxed her nicely. Then she said: "Bevis,
Bevis, little Sir Bevis, do you know what you have done?"
"No," said Bevis, "I can't think: was it me?"
"Yes, it was you; you let the weasel loose, when he was caught in the
gin."
"Did I?" said Bevis, "I have quite forgotten it."
"But you did it," said the hare, "and now the weasel has killed my son,
the leveret, while he was sleeping, and sucked his blood, and I am so
miserable; I do not care to run away any more." Then the hare began to
weep bitterly again, till Bevis did not know what to do to comfort her.
"Perhaps the weasel only killed the leveret for your good," he said
presently.
"What!" cried the hare, putting her fore-feet down hard, and stamping
with indignation. "That is what the wicked old wretch told you, did he
not, about the mouse and the partridge's eggs. Cannot you see that it is
all a pack of lies? But I do not wonder that he deceives you, dear,
since he has deceived the world for so long. Let me tell you, Sir Bevis,
the weasel is the wickedest and most dreadful creature that lives, and
above all things he is so cunning he can make people believe anything
he chooses, and he has succeeded in making fools of us all--every one.
"There is not one of all the animals in the hedge, nor one of the birds
in the trees, that he has not cheated. He is so very, very cunning, and
his talk is so soft and smooth. Do you please take care, Sir Bevis, or
perhaps he may deceive you, as he deceived the fox. Why, do you know, he
has made the people believe that his crimes are committed by the fox,
who consequently bears all the disgrace; and not only that, but he has
spread it abroad that the fox is the most cunning of all, in order that
he may not be suspected of being so clever as he is. I daresay the
weasel will have me some day, and I do not care if he does, now my
leveret is dead; and very soon his poor bones will be picked clean by
the ants, and after the corn is carried the plough will bury them."
Bevis was terribly distressed at the hare's story, and showed such
indignation against the weasel, and stamped his little foot so hard,
knitting his brow, that the hare was somewhat appeased, and began to
explain all about it.
"Of course you did not know, dear," she said, "when you stepped on the
spring of the gin, what trouble we had had to get him into the trap. For
we had all suffered so long from his cruelty, that we had all agreed at
last to try and put an end to it. The trees could not bear to stand
still and see it go on under them, yet they could not move. The earth
could not bear to feel him running about on his bloodthirsty business,
through the holes the rabbits had made. The grass hated to feel him
pushing through, for it had so often been stained with the blood that he
had shed. So we all took counsel together, and I carried the messages,
dear, from the oak, where you slept, to the ash and the elm, and to the
earth in the corner where the rabbits live; and the birds came up into
the oak and gave their adherence, every one; and the fox, too, though he
did not come himself, for he is too cunning to commit himself till he
knows which way the wind is going to blow, sent word of his high
approval.
"Thus we were all prepared to act against that midnight assassin, the
weasel, but we could not begin. The trees could not move, the earth
could not wag a step, the grass could do nothing, and so it went on for
some months, during all which time the weasel was busy with his
wickedness, till at last the bailiff set the gin for the rat by the
cart-house. Then the fox came out by day--contrary to his custom, for he
likes a nap--and went to a spot where he knew a rabbit sat in the grass;
and he hunted the poor rabbit (it was very good sport to see--I do not
like rabbits), till he had driven him across the ditch, where the weasel
was. Then the fox stopped, and hid himself in the furze; and the weasel,
first looking round to see that no one was near, stole after the rabbit.
Now the rabbit knew that the fox was about, and therefore he was afraid
to run across the open field; all he could do was to go down the hedge
towards the garden.
"Everything was going on well, and we sent word to the rat, to warn him
against the gin--we did not like the rat, but we did not want the gin
thrown--don't you see, dear? But when the rabbit had gone half-way down
the hedge, and was close to the garden, he became afraid to venture any
nearer your house, Bevis. Still the weasel crept after him, and
presently drove him almost up to your sycamore-tree. Then the rabbit did
not know what to do; for if he went forward the people in the house
might see him and bring out the gun, and if he turned back the weasel
would have him, and if he ran out into the field the fox would be there,
and he could not climb up a tree. He stopped still, trying to think,
till the weasel came so near he could smell the rabbit's blood, and
then, in his terror, the rabbit darted out from the hedge, and into the
ditch of your haha wall, under where the bee-hives are. There he saw a
dry drain, and hopped into it, forgetting in his fright that he might
not be able to get out at the other end.
"The weasel thought he had now got him safe, and was just going to rush
across and follow, when an ant spoke to him from the trunk of a tree it
was climbing. The ant said the fox had asked him yesterday to watch, and
if the weasel came that way, to warn him that there was a plot laid for
his life, and not to be too venturesome. This was a piece of the same
double-faced ways the fox has been notorious for these many years past.
No one hates the weasel so much as the fox, but he said to himself: 'The
weasel is so cunning, that even if he is caught, he is sure to find some
way to get free, and then he will perhaps discover that I had a hand in
it, and will turn round on me and spoil some of my schemes out of spite.
Besides which, I don't see why I should take much interest in the hare
or the mouse.' So, though he hunted the rabbit for us, yet he sent the
weasel this message, to take care and mind and not be too bold.
"When the weasel heard this he stopped, and thought to himself that it
was rather dangerous to go so near a house, almost under it; and yet he
could not help licking his mouth, as he remembered the sweet scent of
the rabbit's blood. But he was so very, very cunning, that he thought to
himself the rabbit would be obliged to come out again presently, and
would be sure to come up the hedge if he did not see the weasel. So the
weasel turned round to go up the hedge, and we were all in anxiety lest
the scheme should miscarry. But as the weasel was going under the elm,
the elm dropped a large dead branch, and as it came crashing down, it
fell so near the weasel as to pinch his foot, and, hearing another
branch go crack, he lost his presence of mind, turned back again, and
darted across the corner into the drain. There the scent of the rabbit
was so strong he could not help but follow it, and in a moment or two he
saw the poor creature crouched at the end where he could not pass.
"The weasel bounded forward, when the earth squeezed out a stone, and
the stone fell between the weasel and the rabbit. Before he could tell
what to do, the earth squeezed out another stone behind him and he was
caught, and could neither go forward or backward. Now we thought we had
got him, and that he must starve to death. As for the rabbit, when the
stone fell down it left a hole above, up which he scrambled into the
cow-yard, and there hid himself behind a bunch of nettles till night,
when he escaped into the field.
"Meantime the weasel in a dreadful fright was walking to and fro in his
narrow prison, gnashing his teeth with rage and terror, and calling to
all the animals and birds and insects and even to the mole (whom he
despised most of all) to help him out. He promised to be the nicest,
kindest weasel that ever was known; but it was no use, for they were all
in the secret, and overjoyed to see him on the point of perishing. There
he had to stay, and though he scratched and scratched, he could not make
any hole through the solid stone, and by-and-by he got weaker, and he
began to die. While he was dying the rat came and peeped down at him
through a chink, and laughed and said: 'What is the use of all your
cunning, you coward? If you had been bold like me you would never have
got into this scrape, by being afraid of a dead branch of a tree because
it pinched your foot. I should have run by quickly. You are a silly,
foolish, blind sort of creature; could you not see that all the things
had agreed to deceive you?'
"At this the weasel was so wroth it woke him up from his dying, and he
returned the taunt and said: 'Rat, you are by far the silliest to help
the hare and the mouse; it is true they sent you a message about the
gin, but that was not for love of you, I am sure, and I can't think why
they should send it; but you may depend it is some trick, and very
likely the gin is not where they said at all, but in another place, and
you will walk into it when you are not thinking, and then you will curse
the hare and the mouse'.
"'Ah,' said the rat, 'that sounds like reason; you are right, the hare
and the mouse are going to play me a trick. But I will spite them, I
will let you out.'
"'Will you?' said the weasel, starting up and feeling almost strong
again. 'But you can't, these stones are so thick you cannot move them,
nor scratch through them, nor raise them; no, you cannot let me out.'
"'Oh, yes, I can,' said the rat, 'I know a way to move the biggest
stones, and if you can only wait a day or two I will make this chink
large enough for you to come up.'
"'A day or two,' said the weasel in despair; 'why, I am nearly dead now
with hunger.'
"'Well then,' said the rat, 'gnaw your own tail;' and off he went
laughing at the joke. The miserable weasel cried and sniffed, and
sniffed and cried, till by-and-by he heard the rat come back and begin
to scratch outside. Presently the rat stopped, and was going away again,
when the weasel begged and prayed him not to leave him to die there in
the dark.
"'Very well,' said the rat, 'I will send the cricket to sing to you. In
a day or two you will see the chink get bigger, and meantime you can
eat your tail; and as you will get very thin, you will be able to creep
through a very small hole and get out all the quicker. Ha! ha! As for
me, I am going to have a capital dinner from Pan's dish, for he has
fallen asleep in his tub.'
"So the weasel was left to himself, and though he watched and watched,
he could not see the chink open in the least, and he got so dreadfully
hungry that at last, after sucking his paws, he was obliged to bring his
tail round and begin to gnaw it a little bit. The pain was dreadful, but
he could not help himself, he was obliged to do it or die. In the
evening the cricket came, as the rat had promised, to the top of the
chink, and at once began to sing. He sang all about the lady cricket