The Curious Lobster

by Richard W. Hatch

  And with these words, and before Mr. Badger could say another thing, and trembling in every joint of his shell and every hinge in his tail, Mr. Lobster started on his way to Mr. Bear.

  Mr. Lobster Has a Desperate Time

  MR. BEAR, who happened to be the largest bear living in the woods of that certain place, was sitting behind the big boulder, looking at his five fish which Mr. Badger had caught for him. Also, he was enjoying the warm afternoon sun. It was a great pleasure to sit in the sun while someone else did all the work of catching his dinner. So Mr. Bear was in a happy frame of mind.

  “Good day,” said Mr. Lobster by way of greeting as he came around the boulder.

  “Humph!” said Mr. Bear, and he gave a low growl. And immediately he looked very cross, for, being a bear, no matter how contented and pleased he was, he always was also cross as a bear when small creatures spoke to him.

  Mr. Bear got up, and Mr. Lobster suddenly realized what a tremendous creature a bear was, and he began to tremble in all the joints in his shell in spite of himself.

  “And what in the world are you?” asked Mr. Bear in his gruffest voice, just as though he had a very bad throat indeed and was very hoarse.

  Mr. Lobster wished instantly that he could be back at the bottom of the Ocean. He didn’t feel half so brave as he had when he told Mr. Badger he would come and speak to Mr. Bear. But he managed to speak, and he folded up his tail tightly so that Mr. Bear would not see it trembling.

  “I am a lobster,” he said. “I have a home at the bottom of the Ocean. At present I am walking on this pleasant beach.” He did not think it was a pleasant beach at all just at that moment.

  “Ah, then you are a fish!”

  “I am a lobster,” replied Mr. Lobster, “and very superior to fish.”

  “Well, what are you doing here? If you live at the bottom of the Ocean, I say you are a fish, and a fish belongs either in the Ocean or in the frying-pan.” Mr. Bear was being as cross as he could, considering that a few moments before he had been exceedingly contented. “If you are superior, I suppose that means you are superior to fish when fried?”

  “Oh, no, not at all! Not in that way! Please do not misunderstand me!” begged Mr. Lobster. “I was going to say, what a pleasure to meet you, and what a delightful day it is, isn’t it?”

  “Things are going very well, I suppose,” said Mr. Bear, “but that’s no sign that they’ll continue to go well. I do not take too much stock in today. What I am interested in is always tomorrow.”

  “I never thought of that,” said Mr. Lobster, hoping that now the subject was changed from such things as frying fish.

  “No, you wouldn’t,” remarked Mr. Bear, a little less gruffly, and a little more as though he were satisfied with the way things were going even if it was not tomorrow. “Of course, you are not civilized. No civilized creature would live in water or at the bottom of an Ocean. And only civilized creatures have the intelligence to think about tomorrow. You have no worries.”

  “I suppose you are highly civilized.” As Mr. Lobster made this flattering remark, he edged away. He wanted to be as far as possible from Mr. Bear, and he wanted to look around and see if Mr. Badger had escaped yet.

  “I am. I have a house with windows, and I fry much of my food,” said Mr. Bear. “Especially fish. All fish were made to fry.” And he looked unpleasantly at Mr. Lobster.

  Mr. Lobster realized that the subject had changed to frying again. He was very much frightened. So he looked quickly around, stretching his eyes as far as he could. Mr. Badger had disappeared.

  “I am very sorry, but I believe I must be going,” he said to Mr. Bear, trying to seem quite at ease, but speaking over his shell because he was already started. And he began to hurry toward the water without waiting to hear what Mr. Bear said.

  “Possibly I am being discourteous,” he said to himself, “but this is a difficult situation, and I hope I may be excused.”

  He crawled as fast as he could.

  “There’s one thing about it,” he told himself as he drew near the Ocean, “I know now that I am not at all curious about bears. I’ve learned all I want to know about them.”

  He was almost to the water. He thought that he was safe. But then there came a frightful roar, and before he could go any faster or even think another thought Mr. Bear came rushing along behind him and grabbed him by the tail.

  “I’ve got you!” growled Mr. Bear, and it was no slight growl but a great big double-barreled one that terrified Mr. Lobster.

  “Pardon me,” said Mr. Lobster. “I should love to stay and talk with you, but at present I must go into the water. I am getting dry.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t! I know now what you did. You came over and talked to me so that the miserable corn-thief, Mr. Badger, could run away. I saw you talking with him.” Mr. Bear was not just cross now. He was furious.

  “Please let me go!” begged Mr. Lobster. “I have done you no wrong!”

  “Oh, haven’t you, though!” exclaimed Mr. Bear, growling at the same time he talked. “You let that Mr. Badger get away when I had only five fish. It was a plot!”

  “But I don’t even know what a plot is,” protested Mr. Lobster.

  “A plot is a mean trick to cheat people out of their dinner,” growled Mr. Bear. “Now you know. And now you shall be the sixth fish for my dinner.”

  And with that he picked Mr. Lobster up and carried him off. Then he gathered the five fish Mr. Badger had caught, and started for his home in the woods.

  “I shall have six fish for dinner after all,” he said.

  Poor Mr. Lobster was so frightened now that he could scarcely speak. Mr. Bear was so big and strong that Mr. Lobster was helpless. He couldn’t even reach around and bite with his big pincher claws. When he did manage to speak, it was only in a whisper:

  “What are you going to do with me?”

  “Cook you for my dinner.”

  “But I am sixty-eight years old. And I have such a hard shell you can never fry me,” said Mr. Lobster.

  “Maybe that’s so.”

  “Oh, it is!” exclaimed Mr. Lobster. “And if you let me go I will catch you a fish.”

  “If I let you go, you will hide in the Ocean,” answered Mr. Bear cruelly. “Besides, I won’t fry you. I’ll boil you.”

  Mr. Lobster shuddered. He began to feel dryer than he had ever felt before. He saw the beach and the beautiful Ocean disappearing in the distance. Now Mr. Bear was carrying him right into the woods he had wanted to visit, but he forgot all about that. He was too unhappy even to look around.

  “I WON’T FRY YOU. I’LL BOIL YOU,” SAID MR. BEAR.

  “I hope,” he said to himself, “that the sculpin never hears about this. He said that the wanderer sometimes does not return. I never knew that getting knowledge would lead to this. This is a frightful thing. It must be all the owl’s fault, as Mr. Badger said.”

  Then he saw Mr. Bear’s house. It was made of stones, and there was a window right beside the door. And there was a chimney with smoke coming out of it. Mr. Lobster felt so badly that he would have closed his eyes if he could, but of course no lobster can close his eyes; so he had to look right at Mr. Bear’s house.

  “You observe the window,” said Mr. Bear. “A sure sign of being civilized. Presently you will observe the fact that I cook my food. I believe you will make an excellent dinner.”

  Mr. Lobster was too unhappy to reply. He knew that Mr. Bear had no mercy.

  Mr. Bear put the five fish on his table. He put Mr. Lobster in a corner, where Mr. Lobster lay, not daring to move. Then Mr. Bear stirred up his fire until he had a good blaze. Although he never admitted this to the creatures he met, the reason he was so civilized was that he had once spent several years with a circus; so of course he knew all about civilization.

  Finally he filled a big kettle half full of water, put in a good measure of salt, and put the kettle on the stove. Then he dumped Mr. Lobster into the kettle.

  At first Mr. Lobs
ter felt much better. The salt water refreshed him at once, and it was so pleasant to feel wet and salty again, that he thought that maybe there was still a chance for him to escape.

  But then the water began to get hot. Mr. Lobster had never been in hot water before, but he knew instantly that it would be the end of him if he stayed in it now. He put his head and eyes out to cool them, but he knew that that would never save him.

  “This time I am lost,” he thought.

  And then suddenly there was a shout from the woods.

  “Ha, ha! There’s Mr. Bear, who is so stupid he can’t even catch his own fish!”

  It was Mr. Badger, and he stood right outside Mr. Bear’s door, shouting over and over, making insulting faces, and doing everything he could think of to make Mr. Bear angry.

  But Mr. Bear did not move. He was watching the big kettle that held Mr. Lobster.

  And Mr. Lobster felt hotter and hotter. He could feel his shell, which was a lovely dark green color when he was in good health, turning red. He knew that when it was red all over he would be dead.

  “What a terrible way to be gone!” he thought. “O that Mr. Badger could save me!”

  “You can’t catch me!” shouted Mr. Badger to Mr. Bear. “You are too clumsy! You have no brains! And how easy it was to play a trick on you! Ha! Ha! Ha!”

  Mr. Bear was furious, and each moment he was getting more furious. He growled terribly.

  “I won’t chase you now!” he cried out to Mr. Badger. “I’ll get you some other time, you insulting, inferior, corn-stealing creature! I am going to stay right here until your friend Mr. Lobster is cooked to a turn.”

  Mr. Lobster groaned. Mr. Badger was brave indeed, but it was no use. It had been all a mistake ever to leave such a place as the bottom of the Ocean.

  And just as he was thinking the most unhappy thoughts a huge stone came crashing through Mr. Bear’s one window, of which he was so proud, breaking the glass all to bits.

  And then another stone came crashing into the house and broke all the dishes on Mr. Bear’s table.

  “Hooray!” cried Mr. Badger. “Isn’t that fun! Did you hear that noise?”

  Mr. Bear could stand it no longer. He gave a roar and rushed out of his house to catch Mr. Badger.

  Mr. Lobster was left all alone. He jumped as hard as he could and as high as he could, but he couldn’t jump out of the kettle. He was getting hotter and hotter and redder and redder. And this was his last attempt to escape.

  “My last minutes have come,” he said to himself.

  At that moment, and just in the very nick of time, Mr. Badger came running right into Mr. Bear’s house, with Mr. Bear right at his tail. There were terrible sounds of panting and growling.

  Mr. Badger reached up a paw and knocked the big kettle smash onto the floor, and Mr. Lobster and all the water were spilled out. Then Mr. Badger ran under the table. When Mr. Bear tried to get under after him he was too big, and he tipped the table over. There was a fearful crash and clatter, and everything went this way and that in small pieces, showering Mr. Lobster and covering the floor.

  At that moment Mr. Badger stopped to laugh and then ran outdoors again. Mr. Bear gave the loudest roar he had ever made and ran out after Mr. Badger.

  Mr. Lobster was so bewildered and hot and red that he hardly knew what to do next. But he gathered his wits together and realized that he was all alone, and that if ever he was to escape now was the time, before Mr. Bear came back and caught him again.

  Very feebly he crawled out of Mr. Bear’s house and started through the woods. He did not know which way to go. He dared not look this way or that. He was still so hot that he felt very uncomfortable. And he was getting dryer every second. So he just crawled along slowly, dragging his tail behind him, and feeling very lame in all his joints.

  Just when he thought he could not crawl another inch, the little path he was on crossed a brook. And just then Mr. Lobster thought he heard the sound of Mr. Badger laughing somewhere in the woods.

  He knew he could not wait for Mr. Badger.

  So he crawled into the brook and began to swim down it, not going very fast, but helped along by the flowing water. The water was fresh, of course, and Mr. Lobster coughed and sneezed. If he had had to stay long in such water he might have been ill. But fortunately the little brook flowed into a creek, and the creek flowed into the river, and Mr. Lobster found himself once again in salt water.

  THERE WAS A FEARFUL CRASH AND CLATTER.

  Then he knew that he was safe, and he began to swim down the river at a pretty fair rate of speed, although he was still far from well.

  He did not want to see the sculpin; so when he reached the Ocean he went home as fast as he could—which wasn’t half so fast as it ought to have been, and not a tenth as fast as he wanted it to be. And, as bad luck would have it, the sculpin saw him and came swimming right over into his path.

  “You are very late, Mr. Lobster, and I have been worried about you,” said the sculpin. He was looking Mr. Lobster over with a sympathetic eye, but with one of those looks of a wise person who is missing nothing. “You don’t look at all well, my dear Mr. Lobster. What can be the matter with your shell?”

  “I am tired,” said Mr. Lobster. “I really can’t stop to talk just now. I made a long and important trip on land today. In fact, it has been a busy day for me.”

  “Indeed!” The sculpin looked as important and wise as he could, at the same time being envious and suspicious. “If you are so exhausted,” he said, “I suppose you will hardly care to go ashore again.”

  Now Mr. Lobster knew then and there that he never wanted to go ashore again as long as he lived, but he also knew that he could never let the sculpin know that. The sculpin would think he was afraid and would probably say, “I told you so.”

  So he had to say to the sculpin just what he didn’t want to say:

  “Of course I shall go ashore again. I would not miss it for anything.”

  And then, a little sadly, and very tired, he crawled home. And as he curled up his tail and prepared for a long rest, he said to himself:

  “Home is certainly the place where you are the most thankful to be.”

  Mr. Lobster and Mr. Badger Meet Mr. Bear Again

  MR. LOBSTER rested for a long time, and when he woke up he felt much better than he had when he returned home from nearly being boiled. He remembered right away, however, that he had told the sculpin he was certainly going ashore again, and he realized that had been a rash thing to say. Right now he did not want to go ashore again.

  And then he noticed that there were still some red places on his beautiful dark green shell, and he realized with sorrow that they would probably stay there until he shed his shell the next spring.

  “I am not so very happy,” he said to himself. “I must therefore think a pleasant thought as soon as possible. Let me see. . . . Ah, when I shed this shell I shall be sixty-nine years old and my new shell will be number seventy. How fortunate I am to be able to shed my shell and get a new one every year. That’s more than the sculpin can do, and it is a pleasant thought.”

  So, since it was a pleasant thought, and a superior one as well, he started the day by feeling better right then.

  But he did not go out of his house at all, except to catch two small flounders who came to play in his seaweed garden.

  In the afternoon he saw the sculpin come swimming up, and he immediately pretended to be sleeping. So the sculpin, being dignified, and therefore always polite, did not disturb him.

  The next morning when he looked out, there was the sculpin again, moving his big fins slowly and staying right in one place.

  “He is watching for me, and I have no desire to see him,” said Mr. Lobster to himself. “But if he does not go away I shall get hungry and have to go out. In fact, I am hungry now, come to think of it.”

  He waited for quite a while, getting more and more hungry, until he felt actually hollow in a certain place under his shell. He looked at his shell
to see if the red places were gone. No, they were still there. He knew the sculpin would say something unpleasant, but there was no waiting any longer. So he crawled out, looking just as pleased with himself as he could, which is the way to deal with stern and dignified people, but really not feeling at all pleased about those red spots.

  “Well, well,” said the sculpin, “at last you have come out. I was really worried—deeply perturbed, I might say. I was afraid that something had happened to you and that you were not well. You know, you did look so poorly when you returned the other day.”

  “Oh, not at all. Not at all,” said Mr. Lobster. “I am in fine condition. A person has to rest once in a while, you know. And I have been very busy these past weeks. It requires some effort to go ashore each day.”

  “No doubt,” said the sculpin, without trying to look pleasant, which is the least he might have done. “But what has happened to your shell? I thought it looked strange the other day, and now I see that it is getting red! You really don’t look healthy.”

  “That?” asked Mr. Lobster as though he were very much surprised at the sculpin’s question. “You mean that trifle of red? Don’t think of it. This shell is getting old, you know. I shall discard it in the spring.” He said this lightly, but he felt annoyed. The sculpin’s bright eyes saw too much sometimes.

  Mr. Lobster decided to crawl right past the sculpin lest there should be any more annoying conversation to remind him of the unhappy meeting with Mr. Bear. So he started to go on without saying another word.

  “Of course,” said the sculpin, swimming up very near, “now that you have had a rest, you are going ashore again at once.”

  Now that was just what Mr. Lobster had been afraid the sculpin would say, and it was just the question he did not want to answer. It was strange how people of the dignity and wisdom of the sculpin always made the most unwelcome remarks when you did something which caused trouble just because you hadn’t followed their advice.