There was no crowding at all. In no time Mr. Badger jumped right over to Mr. Lobster’s place where the meat was. Mr. Bear moved quickly over to Mr. Badger’s place where the fried fish was. So there was nobody at Mr. Bear’s place, and Mr. Lobster crawled over there as fast as he could crawl.
“There,” said Mr. Badger. “This way we can share our picnic politely. And then if we want to move again, we can.”
“Do we have to move even if we don’t want to?” asked Mr. Bear.
“Of course this is Mr. Lobster’s picnic,” answered Mr. Badger, “and it is up to him.”
“I say we don’t have to move,” said Mr. Lobster.
So at last everybody was happy. They were just about to take the first mouthful when Mr. Badger called out sharply.
AT LAST EVERYBODY WAS HAPPY.
“Wait! Don’t eat yet!” he cried. “I have just remembered something very important. I saw the owl last night, and I forgot to be a bandicoot and answered him when he spoke to me. And then he was so friendly I told him about our picnic. He said that no picnic was any good without pickles. You see, ‘picnic’ is short for ‘pickle-nic.’ We must have pickles.”
Then Mr. Bear really growled.
“Do you mean to say that we can’t eat until we have pickles?” he demanded.
“Absolutely,” said Mr. Badger.
“But I thought you never did what the owl said,” put in Mr. Lobster. “At least, you always do what he says you can’t do.”
“Very true,” agreed Mr. Badger. “But you must remember that I am independent. The owl thinks that I will disobey him this time, and so I will fool him. I will obey him. You see, being independent, I simply cannot do what he expects me to do.”
“I think this is an outrage!” growled Mr. Bear.
“In a way,” said Mr. Badger, “everything that has happened to me because of the owl has been an outrage. But we must not let the owl get the best of us. We must take a little time now before we eat, and all go and hunt to see if we can find or catch a pickle.”
“Can’t we eat our picnic first and have the pickle for dessert?” asked Mr. Bear.
“No, that would be against the rules of a picnic,” said Mr. Badger firmly. “You can’t even start a picnic unless you are sure you have pickles.”
It was a great blow to all of them, for they were all hungry, and they had just been made happy at the thought of eating the delicious things they had brought. And now there was no knowing when they would eat. But as both Mr. Lobster and Mr. Badger were heroes they had to be fair and obey the rules. And Mr. Bear, much as he disliked the idea, felt that he must do what his friends did.
So the three friends started down the beach, each one searching carefully as he walked. Soon the delicious picnic was far behind. When they finally went over a big sand dune, it was out of sight.
How a Picnic Disappeared and What Happened Next
MR. LOBSTER thought it was very hard on him, after all his work gathering clams, to have to crawl miles in search of pickles. The worst of it was, he was curious about pickles at the same time, but he hated to show his ignorance. It seemed to him he was always asking questions.
Finally, after it seemed to him the three picnickers had walked for much too long a time, he decided that he would have to ask the question.
“Would you mind telling me,” he said to Mr. Badger, “what a pickle looks like? I don’t like to appear so ignorant about these land matters, but I must confess I don’t know.”
“Me too!” exclaimed Mr. Bear. “I had a dreadful appetite an hour ago from dragging my package to the picnic, and now I am half starved. And I haven’t the faintest idea what a pickle is. Does it swim or fly or walk?”
For almost a minute Mr. Badger was so upset by laughing that he couldn’t answer.
Then he said, “What a joke!” And he almost got started laughing wildly again, but Mr. Bear gave a long growl. “Why didn’t you tell me? Well, well!”
Mr. Bear growled again.
“Well, well, indeed,” he said gruffly. “What is a pickle?”
“You must excuse my laughing,” said Mr. Badger. “But you see, I don’t know what a pickle is myself. I have never seen one. I had never even heard of one until the owl made his unfortunate remark. That is why it is such a wonderful joke—it is on all of us!”
“Is that a joke?” asked Mr. Lobster.
“I must say, it makes me miserable,” growled Mr. Bear.
“Of course,” agreed Mr. Badger. “But when anything very unfortunate occurs which makes you miserable, if you laugh at it, it becomes a joke.”
“I am afraid,” said Mr. Bear sternly, “I am too hungry to laugh. Perhaps you can think of something else for us to do instead. I want to go back to our picnic.”
“So do I,” said Mr. Lobster. “I want to eat Mr. Bear’s delicious clams.”
“Don’t be alarmed, my good friends,” said Mr. Badger. “This is very simple, for already I know what we can do. When we find anything at all interesting, we can take a vote to decide whether it is a pickle. If we all vote that it is a pickle, then it is a pickle, and we can all return and eat our picnic.”
“Which is the main thing,” said Mr. Bear. “This looking for pickles has already gone too far.”
“Do we have to eat the pickles?” asked Mr. Lobster. “I am very hungry, but I am not sure about eating pickles.”
“I vote that we don’t have to eat any pickles,” said Mr. Bear positively.
“No, we don’t have to,” agreed Mr. Badger. “All the owl said was that we couldn’t have a picnic without pickles. He didn’t say a thing about eating them. Probably they are not good to eat, anyway.”
So it was decided that they did not have to eat the pickles after they were caught, which made it very much easier, as now it didn’t matter what a pickle was like as long as it was not too big to carry back to the picnic.
Immediately the three friends started to search again, and they looked very carefully. Almost at once Mr. Bear found a piece of wood and wanted to vote that it was a pickle, but Mr. Badger said “No,” because everyone knew what a piece of wood was and it was never a pickle.
Then Mr. Lobster, who of course was down the lowest and could easily see low things, saw two round things lying on the sand under an old plank from a boat.
“Look!” he cried, and he moved the plank so the others could see.
The two round things were orange colored, almost as big as baseballs, and had crinkly skins.
“I vote that these are pickles!” cried Mr. Bear at once.
“So do I!” exclaimed Mr. Lobster.
Mr. Badger hesitated a moment just to make the others nervous, but when Mr. Bear started to give a low and unpleasant growl, he said:
“So do I.”
“Thank goodness!” exclaimed Mr. Bear. “Now we can eat.”
“We must take these to our picnic,” said Mr. Badger.
Mr. Bear objected to that, but finally he picked up one of the round things in his teeth and began to carry it. Mr. Badger took the other one. Then the three friends started to walk back to their picnic, Mr. Bear and Mr. Badger having to go rather slow on account of Mr. Lobster, who could crawl only so fast, and who was really tired now.
It seemed to Mr. Lobster that it took forever to get back to the desolate place where they had left their delicious picnic. His mouth fairly watered at the thought of the delicious clams he was going to eat any minute. He was glad now that he gathered so many for Mr. Bear.
“It all goes to show,” he said to himself, “that generosity always pays in the end.”
Finally they came to a place which seemed to be the exact place where they had met for their picnic. Mr. Bear dropped his pickle.
“There,” he said. “That’s done.” And he looked around.
Then Mr. Badger and Mr. Lobster looked around.
There was no picnic to be seen.
“Maybe we have come too far,” suggested Mr. Badger.
�
�Look!” exclaimed Mr. Bear. “There is the paper I wrapped my beautiful fried fish in!”
“And here is my turtle-shell!” cried Mr. Lobster. “And it is empty!”
There was no picnic. That was the awful truth. They had come back to the right place, but their picnic was gone. And they were all tired and hungry, and there was nothing to look at but the wrappings of their picnic, which are a sure sign that a picnic is all over.
For a moment no one could speak.
Then Mr. Bear let out a horrible growl, the worst Mr. Lobster or Mr. Badger had ever heard.
“And we were so near perfect happiness!” wailed Mr. Badger.
“There is no such thing as perfect happiness,” growled Mr. Bear.
“Oh, yes, there is,” Mr. Badger protested, “even if we are not having it today. Perfect happiness occurs when you are not afraid of anything and have all you want to eat.”
“Well, we’re not perfectly happy now,” grumbled Mr. Bear. He paused for two short growls. “At least, I’m not. And I think that this picnic is the worst idea you have ever had. Someone has stolen my fish. It was the biggest, most beautiful fish I have ever fried. If there is anything I am perfectly, it is furious.”
“I spent all the morning gathering clams,” said Mr. Lobster mournfully, “and didn’t eat a one. And now I am sure I am getting dry. If you will excuse me, I shall go into the Ocean for a little while.”
“Do,” said Mr. Badger kindly. “But be sure and come back as soon as you can. We must have a meeting and plan to catch the thief who stole our picnic. I never realized until now how serious stealing is.”
Mr. Bear growled some more at that. He remembered that Mr. Badger had stolen from him in the old days when they were unfriends.
Mr. Lobster crawled wearily and sadly down to the edge of the water, crawled through a wave, and had a good swim. He stayed a little longer than was necessary, for he saw a perch and a small flounder, and he pursued them. When he returned to the shore he was feeling a little better.
When he reached his friends he found Mr. Badger quite excited.
“Do you see those?” he asked Mr. Lobster, pointing to a great many tracks in the sand.
“Yes, I do,” said Mr. Lobster.
“Well, what do you think they are?”
“I think they are the tracks of a sea gull.”
“Ah.” Mr. Badger was pleased. “Just what I thought. A sea gull was the thief.”
“Excuse my interrupting,” said Mr. Bear so crossly that they knew he didn’t care whether he was excused or not, “but I happen to be hungry. I can’t see any use in talking. Let us admit that picnics are very bad ideas, and then never have another one.”
“We can’t have another one,” said Mr. Lobster wisely, “until we have had this one.”
“Exactly,” agreed Mr. Badger. “So we must have this one so that the one we never have would be another.”
Nobody else understood this. Mr. Lobster said nothing. Being wise, he considered silence important at times. Mr. Bear simply growled. He always growled when he did not know what to do or say.
“And,” Mr. Badger was saying importantly, “even if this picnic has turned out rather badly, it just goes to show that you never can tell about life—it’s so uncertain. And uncertainty is the next best thing to adventure.”
“It is the next worst thing, you mean,” said Mr. Bear. “And besides, I don’t care for uncertainty about my food. That’s going too far.”
“Please let me finish,” said Mr. Badger. “Now we can have an adventure. We must set a trap to catch the thief who stole our picnic. Catching him will be as much fun as eating.”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Mr. Bear. “How can anything be as much fun as eating?”
“And what shall we do with the thief when we catch him?” asked Mr. Lobster.
Mr. Badger smiled happily.
“That’s just the fun of it,” he said. “I don’t know what we’ll do with him. When we catch him we shall have a new problem.”
“Your ideas always end in problems!” protested Mr. Bear. “First, it was fishing in a boat, which caused the awful problem of how to row without oars. Then it was a picnic, and the problem of how to carry a fried fish several miles. Then it was pickles, and the problem of finding something not one of us had ever seen. And now we have the fine problem of building a trap to catch a thief. And when we catch the thief we shall have the problem of what to do about it. Is your life always a problem?”
“Of course.” Mr. Badger grinned. “Life is one problem after another. That’s what makes it fun. There is always something to solve. Think how miserable we should be if everything were solved.”
“That is ridiculous!” said Mr. Bear. “I would be anything but miserable if the problem of my lunch and dinner were solved right now. In fact, I wish someone would solve it, for I know very well that I can solve it only by hard work.” He stopped to growl a good deal. “I think I’ll go home,” he added.
But Mr. Bear didn’t go home. He was really too good a friend to do that, even if he did growl a great deal.
Mr. Lobster noticed that. He said to himself: “I’ve learned one thing from knowing Mr. Bear. Growling does not change the situation at all. After you have finished growling, you are right where you started.”
Instead of going home the three friends worked most of the afternoon making a trap out of wood and pieces of things they found on the beach. When it was done, after a great deal of work, and a great deal of complaining by Mr. Bear and chuckling by Mr. Badger, the trap was arranged so that if the sea gull walked under it to touch the pickles, which Mr. Badger placed there to attract the thief, a big box with a piece of fish-net for a bottom would fall and imprison the sea gull securely.
Mr. Badger and Mr. Bear had done most of the work, for Mr. Bear could pull things and Mr. Badger was very clever with his paws. Mr. Lobster was too clumsy on land to be of much use, but now he was a great help.
“The thief may not like pickles,” said Mr. Badger, “but he certainly likes fish. So Mr. Lobster must go and catch us some kind of fish to put under our trap.”
Mr. Lobster was glad to be of some service. He hated to miss anything. So he hurried out into the water and caught a fairly large flounder. He wanted to eat it, for he was still hungry, but instead he carried it to Mr. Badger, and Mr. Badger placed it beside the pickles.
“Now we can all go home,” said Mr. Badger. “And tomorrow morning we shall return here and see what sea gull stole our picnic.”
“Which won’t do a bit of good,” growled Mr. Bear.
“But what shall we do to punish the thief?” asked Mr. Lobster, who was very curious and hated to wait until the next day to find out.
Mr. Badger smiled one of his happiest smiles. “We mustn’t decide that now,” he said. “Life would be uninteresting if we knew exactly what we were going to do tomorrow.”
So Mr. Lobster had to go home without satisfying his curiosity.
Mr. Bear started off muttering, “I hope we never have any more picnics.”
And Mr. Badger went off quite happy in spite of everything, because it had been an interesting day even if his picnic had been spoiled, and tomorrow promised to be even more interesting.
Mr. Lobster was so curious about the punishment of the thief, and whether they would succeed in catching him in the trap, that he almost forgot to have dinner before he went to bed. And after he had crawled into his fine house he was so curious he could hardly get to sleep.
“Curiosity,” he told himself, “can be very trying at times, but I suppose there is no easy way to gather wisdom.”
In the morning, when Mr. Lobster started for shore, he was eager indeed, and he traveled at a good rate of speed. When he came out on the sandy beach he saw that the morning was bright with sunshine, and the sky was as blue as a fairy’s eyes. All the world seemed to be made to be enjoyed, and he felt that he was surely going to enjoy it.
He had gotten up so early, because of his cur
iosity, that he reached the trap before Mr. Badger and Mr. Bear.
The trap was sprung—and in it, safe and sound but unable to escape, was the largest sea gull Mr. Lobster had ever seen.
“So,” said Mr. Lobster, “you were the thief that stole our picnic.” He spoke sternly, for he believed that was the proper manner in which to address all criminals.
“Look here!” cried the sea gull, who was very much excited, and who had been beating his wings until he had broken several feathers, “do let me out of here, will you please?”
“Let you out, did you say?” Mr. Lobster was shocked by the request. The idea of a thief asking to be released from a trap.
“Of course,” said the sea gull. “Everyone knows you, Mr. Lobster. You are the first lobster ever to be smart enough to come ashore, and you are the wisest lobster in all the Ocean. All of us gulls know about you, for we have watched you. We consider you a brilliant specimen. You are so wise and so famous that you can afford to be generous. Do let me out.”
For a moment Mr. Lobster did feel generous. The gull seemed to be speaking true and kind words. Furthermore, the gull seemed a courteous sort of bird, and it seemed impossible that he was a thief.
“It hardly seems possible,” said Mr. Lobster, looking at the sea gull closely, “that you could have done such a thing.”
“Surely, Mr. Lobster, a creature as wise as you are wouldn’t think such a ridiculous thing as that!” The sea gull spoke in the most flattering manner. “You will let me out, won’t you?”
“I must think first,” answered Mr. Lobster. “It is true that I am very wise. I am sixty-eight years old, you know. But a wise person does not act without thinking about it first. Thinking afterwards is always too late.”
There is no knowing what Mr. Lobster would have thought if the clever sea gull could have talked a little longer. But just then a tremendous and furious noise came rushing over the beach, a noise of growling and roaring and panting; and there was Mr. Bear, coming as fast as he could, the sand flying in every direction. Mr. Badger was close behind him.
“Ah!” exclaimed Mr. Bear. “The thief himself! We have caught him!”
The Curious Lobster Page 9
