Part 3

It was the happiest trip on the water ever taken in the whole world, so they all thought. Sometimes the little boat would stick for a few minutes where something stopped it in its course. Then it would get free from the stone or whatever blocked the way, and downstream it would go again. There were many things to see by the way on each side, and the small Spider, Size Two and the Ladybug explained to Anthony all the things he did not know.

The boat stopped at a small island of stones and gravel in the middle of the brook late in the afternoon, and there they thought it best to end the trip. They carried the parcels to the island and left the little boat to itself. It might go on once more, or stay as long as it liked. They would not need it any more, they thought, and they explored the little island for an hour. Then it was that the Ant found out what was in the boxes the others had brought.

As they sat under the shade of a thick weed, the Ladybug opened her box and took out a rose-patterned paper tablecloth and spread it on the clean stones. Then came afternoon tea from both boxes--even a small tea-house stove to boil water for the tea in the tiny tea-kettle. They would not let the Ant open his lunch basket at all. That is why they had brought the things themselves for the picnic--so he could save all his, which he would need on his trip. If you never have eaten wild-rose tea cakes, you have missed cakes worth while. There were pink candies, rose-mint flavored and shaped like roses, and such dainty sandwiches you never saw, nor I, either!

After the tea it was time for the Ladybug and the small Spider, Size Two to go home. Anthony went to see them off, and there was the little white boat that looked so tempting to take once more.

“Well, we might as well take it,” decided the Ladybug. “Mr. Ant can come too, for, when it once starts, it may bump us against something from which we can crawl to a stone nearer shore. He can stay on and sail farther, for there is a bend in the brook that will take him a long distance toward the right, and he can get off when the brook bends back again.”

It was as though the whole thing had been planned to give the three the best surprise yet. Almost as soon as they were aboard, with Anthony’s baggage too, the boat started down again, and suddenly a sharp turn about a rock made the current send the boat in a slanting push across to a bowlder so near the shore they could easily reach it from such a fine landing place.

They all made the jump from the boat safely, and waved their feelers and hands after the boat, for they could see it was not going to wait for the Ant this time. He would not have that boat ride down the bend after all. He did not care, for he had his things all with him and could cross some way later. He had intended merely to land with them on the bowlder and watch them as they landed, then go back to the boat; but, as it had floated away, he did not care. They clambered to the top of the bowlder to see how the shore looked, and all at once they saw a large sign which said:

WONDERFUL INSECT BAND CONCERT HERE TONIGHT FREE COME AND BRING YOUR FRIENDS

THE BAND CONCERT

“Oh, my!” cried the small Spider, Size Two. “We ought to hear that! It was advertised in last night’s paper, and I am sure it will be fine. Ever hear a band concert, Mr. Ant?”

“Never!” replied the Ant. “Mother never would take me, but sent me to bed too early to hear any concert of any kind.”

“Oh,” said the Ladybug, “we must hear it!”

“What about the home folks?” asked the small Spider, Size Two.

“I’ll tell you what,” said she. “Go to the nearest telephone booth and call up your wife and tell her. She will let my family know too, for she is the best neighbor I have, and we’ll get back before so very late.”

Ah! but there was no telephone on the grounds, so the small Spider, Size Two sent a wireless message instead, and the matter was arranged.

As the dark came slowly, a Bat and all his cousins appeared from the woods somewhere or other and flew gayly about in the air, they were so excited about the concert. And the Fireflies began to bring out their little lanterns and try them on the dark corners here and there to see about the flash workings, and they began their dance about the place. The Crickets were vibrating their wing cases, and all sorts of insects that are more or less still all day were trying their violins, and flutes, and zippers, and zingers, and zoomers, and buzzoons, and drummerinos, and all the funny instruments only night insects know how to play. It was all very exciting. The three friends took hold of hands and sat on a small bench made of bark. They did not speak a loud word, it was so beautiful. There was a large crowd, for everybody from all the places around came.

“Which is your favorite sound?” whispered the Ladybug to the Ant.

“Why, I think it is the quiet, soothing sound those pale green insects with the wings you can see through are making,” he answered.

“Ah!” said she. “Those are the so-called August Croakers. They are a sort of Tree Cricket, and they sing every evening as soon as the dusk is near enough. They will not stop till the frost puts an end to their song.”

“They are my favorite too,” said the small Spider, Size Two. “Those loud, zippy things that make such a lot of exciting noise with their funny jiggerettes are all right for a little while to liven things up a bit, but for a steady, all-around, satisfying sound, give me the August Croakers every time.”

As some of the concert was sure to last most of the night, the Ladybug and the small Spider, Size Two thought they would better not stay after the Fireflies had finished the most lively part of their dance. They said good-by to the Ant and slipped away in the dark before he could thank them again for the great kindness they had shown him. All at once it was as though the night had shut him in with a smothering feeling of unhappiness. He was alone!

Anthony Ant went back to the dark bench and sat there alone trying to think what to do next. If the August Croakers had not been there with their comforting sounds, and the Crickets with their cheerful trills, he would have cried, he was sure. He watched the Fireflies and the Bats, and tried to follow the tune the loud, zippy insects were playing. It must be a sort of Hungarian gypsy dance, he thought, for he had heard that Hungarian music played by gypsies was of the wild, queer kind.

All at once Anthony Ant thought of his home and nice soft bed. He was tired from so much happiness all day and so much loneliness suddenly, and how he wished he could walk into the doorway of Ant-Hill Manor and find himself in his own snug corner where the Night could not hurt him! It seemed all at once, you see, as though the Night was something that would catch and hurt him. Anyway, he knew it would not do to sit on that bench all night. How he wished his friends had asked him to go with them! To be safe in Knot-Hole Barkalow with the Ladybug family or in some snug place with the small Spider, Size Two family, would be better than to be alone in a strange place. The other insects were going to their homes, and the place was getting more lonely every minute. There were fewer lights from the Firefly lanterns, and the Crickets were not so cheerful as at first, for even they were getting sleepy.

Anthony Ant left the bench and stole through the many shadows to the bank of the brook again. To hear its murmur was a little more cheerful, for he had heard it all day while sailing with his friends and traveling near it.

As he walked along the edge he came to the great bowlder where they had landed. He climbed to the top to see if in the dark there was anything to be seen. The pale moon was shining faintly over the water, and as he stood upon the top of the bowlder he saw a sight that made him a wee bit happy. The boat he thought gone forever was stuck near the shore farther down. If he could walk down the shore a little distance, he could get aboard. Maybe it would not seem so lonely on the white chip where he had been so happy. So he wearily climbed down the bowlder and, with his lunch basket and dressing case, crawled slowly along the shore until he came to the boat, and glad was he to find he could get on deck easily. This he did, and while the chip swung gently in some weeds without bobbling at all, he fell asleep and forgot how lonely he was and how afraid he was of the Night. He even had one pleasant little dream about the birthday party at the Wild-Rose Tea House!

KEEPING DOWN LUMPS

If Anthony Ant had thought the day before that Dr. Alexander Beetle Bug knew how to write a prescription that was good for something, the same prescription did not seem so joyful when he wakened early next morning. He found that the chip was bobbling horribly and that if he had not used his dressing case for a pillow, and tied his lunch basket to his belt, probably both would have been jubbled into the brook in the night. He sat up in a hurry and discovered that he must have drifted far away from the place he had boarded the chip the night before.

There was nothing on either shore that looked the least like anything he had seen the day before. My, but he was scared!

“Oh, where am I?” he thought. “I must have gone ’way past the bend of the brook and halfway down to the other end of the world! This is awful! I’d better get off right away!”

Oh, but he couldn’t get off right away! The current was too swift, and there was no chance to jump to anything near the boat. He had to hang on as hard as ever was, and sail away whether he wanted to or not. He was hungry too, for he had not tasted anything since the picnic afternoon tea of the day before, but with the bobbling of the boat he could not even open his lunch basket. There was nothing to do but to wait until something happened.

The something which happened did it so quickly that Anthony Ant did not know what it was. All he knew was that he was sore from head to foot from a big bump he got when something dashed the chip against a large stone near the middle of the brook. The boat itself had had its last trip for a long time, as any one could tell by looking at it. It stood on its side against the stone, and a mass of weeds and grass that had floated down after it now wedged it in so it could not get out unless a most out-of-the-way thing should let it out of its prison.

The Ant had his things with him, anyway, and that was something. Maybe his mother had guessed that his journey would not all be easy and that there might be bumps and scratches and bruises, for mothers know all about those things always. So in his dressing case he found salve in a tiny jar, and something to put on bumps, and a small roll of bandages, and even a little bottle of liniment for lameness.

A big lump that nearly made him cry seemed to get into his throat when he thought about Mother Ant so far away in that cosy Ant-Hill Manor. Whenever he was hurt, she had such a cuddly way of taking him into her lap and rocking him in the big rocking-chair, and saying, “Poor little Anthony! Did he hurt himself on the bad stones? There, there, there! Don’t cry now, Mother’s petkins! It will be all well soon. Let Mother kiss it. There, there! See the pretty pictures of all the little Antlets in the nice picture book Mother will show him. Here’s a little Antlet that got hurt just like you. Such a naughty little Antlet that ran away from his dear mother and brothers and sisters once upon a time, and fell down a terrible hill, and bumped both his knees on his frontest legs, and tore his best clothes! Oh, my, my! Look at him, and see how he is crying! And here he is in another picture, trying to get home to dear Mother, and here she is coming after him and picking him up, and here--”

But Anthony Ant had to stop that minute thinking about all that, for it made that lump so big that the tears were all ready to tumble down from the tear places in his eyes. How the whole family would laugh at him if he let cuddly thoughts turn him into a baby and send him back home like a silly coward! He would stick to the doctor’s prescription whatever happened, for even his mother, who never had let him go off alone before, had smiled at the prescription and had helped him get ready to go.

Sometimes something from a lunch basket is the very best thing to keep down a lump in the throat, for often things seem much worse when the stomach is empty. Anthony Ant, therefore, put salve and bandages and liniment on his worst hurts, and then sat down on the flat part of the great stone and opened his lunch basket.

Another lump almost came up into his throat at sight of the pink Japanese napkins and dainty things, for it made him think of those kind friends he might never see again. But he took a sandwich right away. The minute he had swallowed a mouthful both the lumps had gone, and by the time he had eaten the things suitable for a whole breakfast he was as cheerful as any Ant could have been far away from home. He found that the lunch basket had been wiped clean from any grit, and the jar that had held the honey his mother had put in was washed clean and filled with a rich cheese made from goodness-knows-what, for it was a secret dainty of the Wild-Rose Tea House and was not given away to everyone.

After breakfast Anthony felt better. He even whistled a little tune, called “All on a Sunny Morning.” He made up his mind to several sensible things. One was that he would not travel too hard and fast that day. Another was that he would try to find something to eat before his lunch basket was empty. Another was that he would not let anything make him forget to keep both his lunch basket and his dressing case with him where they would be safe. The last thing was that he would make the Ladybug and the small Spider, Size Two proud they had met him, by really always being as polite as he had seemed to them to be, for well he knew that he was not always so kind and mannerly.

The next thing was to cross to the right bank of the brook, and this was not easy. The water was swift and deep, and he must wait for something to float down.

Many odd bits of floating things passed him, but at last came a round bit of branch broken from some tree, and it stuck in the narrow channel between the big stone and the next one. It was so unsteady, though, that Anthony Ant strapped both his lunch basket and his dressing case to his belt before crossing the wobbly bridge, and he nearly fell off three times before the trip across was made. There was a shallow place beyond this next stone, and he found he could get around it and over the shallowest parts of it on stones and gravel that partly choked the brook there. One more deep place stood between him and the bank, and then a willow branch bobbed in the breeze and brushed the stone upon which he stood. The next time it bobbed down he took firm hold of it and pulled himself up. The remainder of the journey was easy, for there is nothing easier for a smooth pathway for Ants than willow branches, and on this fine floorway Anthony Ant climbed into the tree and down its trunk to the ground.

Another cheerful thing happened then, for he spied a bush near the willow tree. On the bush a number of large black Ants were trying to take home a large Bug they had killed. Maybe you never heard of it, but there is a law among Ants that any Bug, whoever kills it, belongs to as many Ants as can get any of it. So Anthony Ant felt he had as much right to some of the Bug as they had, and he boldly marched up to get a piece.

It was such a good Bug that none of the black Ants wanted to lose a morsel of it, and they boxed Anthony Ant’s ears and bit at him and said things to him that no polite Ant would say whether he were a black Ant or a red one. But Anthony was brave and spry in spite of his bruises, and he skipped in between the Ants and dodged their cuffings so well that he managed to pull off a large piece of Bug--enough for several meals. Without waiting to hear any of their rude remarks, he ran with it down the bush and hid behind a rock, where he rested and took the time to break the Bug into pieces of a size to fit into his basket. It gave him a comfortable feeling to know that his lunch basket once more was as heavy as it had been when he first left home.

There was no woods on this side of the brook in this spot, but an open field of short grass. It would be a good change from dark thick trees, he thought, and much more cheerful, and after lunch he started off toward the right, and left the brook behind him. He might meet adventures in the middle of the field, he thought.

Long before he reached the middle of the field, however, an Ant Venture happened, for as he pressed forward through a dense part of the grass he came suddenly upon a large hole--a vast cave it seemed to him--and over the cave was a sign which said:

MOLESWORTH DEEP MINING COMPANY, LIMITED

AT MOLESWORTH HALL

Anthony Ant sat down on a small pebble to think about that sign and what it might mean. Was it a sort of side-show cave in there, or was it a real mine that went down into the black, dark earth farther than any Ants ever had dug? Whichever it was, it was a strange thing to come across here in the field. He thought he would wait and see if there were any signs of life about the place.

There were! The signs of life came all too soon. Something pushed him off the pebble so suddenly that he did not know what it was. It was large and soft and dark. He knew that much about how it first seemed. In a second he was standing on all his feet and looking to see what the thing was.

“What’s the matter? Were you looking for a job?” came a deep, soft voice.

“No, sir,” replied Anthony Ant, looking up at what the voice seemed to come from. Before him was a velvety creature like a mouse, maybe, all but its head and nose and eyes, and sort of different about its feet. “I was just thinking about that sign and what it might mean.”

“I’ll tell you that free of charge,” said the voice. “There you see one of the most wonderful mines in the whole world. I live there, and I helped make it, so I ought to know.”

“What do you get out of it?” asked Anthony Ant, for he had seen pictures in the books at home about mines and had heard how gold, and iron, and coal, and that sort of thing came out of them.

“Why,” answered the voice, “I get a home out of it. What more should you want, I’d like to know? If you mean what do I bring out of it, I bring out or push out the earth. I am teaching the little ones how to do it now, so they can be smart when they grow up. They are quick to learn and know so much that I have just put up that sign.”

“But if it is not a real mine where you get metals or minerals to sell, why should you need a sign?” asked the Ant.

“Well,” said the soft, deep voice, “it looks stylish, I think. I don’t know of any other reason.”

“But you haven’t any eyes, have you?” questioned the Ant. “I can’t see any, at least not from here. So how do you know it looks stylish?”

Then the little creature put his head down near Anthony Ant, and showed him such bright little eyes where they did not show much that the brightness made Anthony blink.

“I am a Mole,” said that soft, deep voice, “and I am not so blind as the world thinks. I never could have made so fine a place as Molesworth Hall if I had been really blind, you know. Now, could I?”

“I should be better able to answer that question if I had seen your home inside, but all I’ve seen is the entrance,” replied the Ant.

“That’s so,” said the Mole.

“But,” asked Anthony, “what do you have the word ‘LIMITED’ on your sign for?”

“It seems to be the style with some big advertisers in the newspapers,” answered the Mole. “That’s the only reason, for when you come right down to the matter there is nothing limited about my home. I could make my halls as big as I chose if I wanted to work long enough. I could tunnel across the whole field if I wished, but ‘LIMITED’ looks stylish and grand on a sign, I think.”

“But were you expecting others to dig in your mines?” asked Anthony. “You asked me if I was looking for a job, you know.”

“Of course I did,” said Mr. Mole. “Everyone worth while has a job of some sort, and you looked worth while. But you were sitting doing nothing when I found you, so I thought you were out of luck and had lost your job, whatever it was. Though you are pretty small, I could give you something to do to earn your supper at least.”

“But I have my supper in my lunch basket,” said Anthony.

“Let me see it,” demanded Mr. Mole. So the Ant opened his basket.

“Now, look here,” said the Mole, “there isn’t a thing in here that won’t keep all right for tomorrow. So keep it for tomorrow if you are wise, and just buck up--as they say in the newspapers I find blown into this field sometimes--buck up, I say, and be a man, and do a few hours’ work for me, and earn your supper. Save that lunch for the tomorrow that may find you hard up for food that is not always to be had for the wishing.”

“Very well,” agreed the Ant, “and thank you. What is the work?”

“We are running a short gallery through a little section of Molesworth Hall,” said Mr. Mole, “and, though you are small and cannot carry much at a time, the short gallery is near the entrance and you won’t have far to tramp. You look like a good digger, and the earth is soft. Even if you won’t be much of a help to me, I’m glad to offer you a good supper for what you carry out before then.”

“All right,” said the Ant, and followed the Mole into the cave.

Inside, he met Mrs. Mole and the little Moles, and they were kind to him and showed him the wonderful passageways of Molesworth Hall. Then they scurried off to their work, and the Ant began to labor where he was taken by Mr. Mole.

Now Anthony Ant was too battered and sore to feel much like working. He felt lame all over, and the bumps and bruises were pretty bad. But it would never do to let Mr. Mole think him somebody not worth while, so he never rested once from the time he started. Mr. Mole, who, unknown to Anthony Ant, was watching him all the time from around the corner of the main passage, and who had guessed that the Ant had run away from a good home for some foolish reason, had to smile to see how plucky the little chap was.

It was a pretty weary Ant that took out his last load that night and then washed up outside the cave. The dew was already on the grass, and the cool wetness of it felt good when he washed his face and all his hands. When he was clean enough to suit himself, he went in and found Mr. and Mrs. Mole and the little Moles eating supper. They helped him to bits of roots Mrs. Mole had prepared some way or other, and a sip of herb tea rested him a lot. They told him he was welcome to stay all night too, but he thanked them and said he thought he would go a little farther on his way. So they went to the door with him and said good night in their soft, deep voices, and wished him luck, and the last they saw of him, he was looking back and waving. The last he saw of them, they made a happy, contented family picture as they all stood together in the doorway of the MOLESWORTH DEEP-MINING COMPANY, LIMITED.

A VENTURE WITH A PASS

Poor, tired Anthony Ant did not get so far away from Molesworth Hall that night as he thought he would before stopping to sleep, and when he finally did stop he had a most terrible night.