Mr. Badger came up puffing.
“There!” he said. “Don’t ever say that I don’t have good ideas. Isn’t this interesting? Isn’t this as good as an adventure?”
“Pardon me,” put in Mr. Lobster. “I am not sure we haven’t made a serious mistake. This sea gull seems to be a very courteous bird.”
“A thief always tries to seem honest after he has done his stealing,” said Mr. Badger. “I wouldn’t trust him.”
“Do you speak from experience?” asked Mr. Bear.
Mr. Badger did not answer. In fact, he seemed a trifle deaf for the moment. Instead, he looked the sea gull right in the eyes.
“Did you steal our picnic?” he asked.
“It was all a mistake,” whined the sea gull.
“Ah,” growled Mr. Bear. “You will find that it was a very serious mistake, indeed. You just wait.”
Everyone knew that the sea gull was guilty now, for he just hung his head and said nothing.
Mr. Badger tried to look serious, although he was pleased with himself for catching the sea gull, and, if the truth were told, he had done a good bit of stealing himself.
“You understand,” he said to the miserable bird, “that stealing to get a bite of dinner is one thing, and stealing a whole picnic is another. Stealing a picnic is a hideous crime.”
“I realize that now,” said the sea gull, and his head went even lower.
“Too late,” growled Mr. Bear.
“I should say,” offered Mr. Lobster, who was feeling extremely wise, “that the pleasure in stealing totally disappears when you are caught. I am convinced that it must be wrong, therefore; for whatever is without pleasure is wrong.”
“That is not new,” said Mr. Badger with a chuckle. “Everyone knows that it is wrong to be caught for stealing.”
“You know very well that I didn’t mean that,” said Mr. Lobster sharply.
“Let us not waste time in silly arguments,” said Mr. Bear gruffly. “Let us decide the punishment.”
So the three friends made a circle around the unhappy sea gull, who now stood with his head almost on the sand, and his bright eyes shut tight, and looking so ashamed of himself that it was hard not to pity him. In fact, Mr. Lobster, who had a soft heart under his hard shell, as so many persons do, did pity him.
“I say,” began Mr. Bear, “that since this bird stole our picnic and ate it, he should be eaten also.”
“It does seem fair,” said Mr. Badger.
“I suppose I shall have to vote for that if my two friends do,” said Mr. Lobster.
“Oh, please don’t eat me!” cried the sea gull.
“Well, of course, I shan’t,” said Mr. Bear. “You are all covered with feathers, and I should hate to eat feathers.”
“I should not think of it,” said Mr. Badger.
“I never eat birds,” said Mr. Lobster.
“There is a problem already,” said Mr. Bear. “How can we punish him if no one will do it?”
“I suppose,” said Mr. Badger, “that we had better decide that eating is not the punishment. Then it will be no problem.”
And the three friends decided that at once.
Then there was a long silence, while the matter of punishment was still unsolved.
“I guess we shall have to keep the sea gull in prison,” said Mr. Badger finally.
“A very good idea,” growled Mr. Bear. “That will teach him a lesson.”
“I agree,” said Mr. Lobster, who thought this was much kinder than eating the sea gull. “But who will feed him? We can’t let him starve to death here.”
“Another problem,” said Mr. Bear in great disgust. “If we have to get his food and bring it to him we shall be just punishing ourselves, for we shall have to do all the work. Eating him would be a punishment for us, and feeding him would be a punishment for us. It seems to me that this business of giving punishments is pretty poor.”
By now the sea gull’s head had come up a little, and he was looking more hopeful.
“Also,” said Mr. Lobster, who was really wise this time, “it is evident that such punishments would do no good, for how could the sea gull profit by being eaten, and learn to be a better bird? And could he learn to be a better bird if he was kept all the time in this prison?”
What Mr. Lobster said was so true that everyone was silent.
But the sea gull had one eye open now.
“This is going to turn out just like all of Mr. Badger’s ideas,” said Mr. Bear.
“Wait!” exclaimed Mr. Lobster. “I seem to be able to think very clearly today. I am sure it is because I got up so early this morning. I say that if the sea gull will promise solemnly to gather us another fine picnic, with fish for Mr. Bear, and meat for Mr. Badger, and clams without their shells for me, we let him go free.”
“Wonderful!” cried Mr. Badger. “That is the best suggestion of all! We can have the fun of eating our picnic after all, and the sea gull will certainly learn a lesson.”
“You are very astute,” remarked Mr. Bear in the pleasantest tone he had used for some minutes.
“Astute?” asked Mr. Lobster. “Do tell me what that means?”
“It means being wise at the right moment,” explained Mr. Badger. “And that is very much wiser than just wise, and very much more important.”
Mr. Lobster felt happy, indeed. This was certainly a beautiful day.
The sea gull, who had been listening carefully, now put his head all the way up and opened his other eye.
“I will promise,” he said. “If you will let me go, I will have a fine picnic for you here tomorrow, even if I have to work every minute to do it.”
“Are the three judges willing?” asked Mr. Badger seriously.
“I am,” said Mr. Lobster, “for I thought of it.”
“I am,” said Mr. Bear. “I suppose I shall have to be, for it is a wise thing to do. But I know very well that the sea gull can never catch a fish as big as the one I had, and even if he could catch it he couldn’t fry it. Still, it is a pleasure to be uncivilized at times, and picking blueberries will be a good hard job for the sea gull; so I say that he has to pick two quarts of blueberries, and I’ll have those instead of the fish. No, I’ll make it three quarts.”
“Oh, I will do that,” said the sea gull.
“Well, I am willing,” said Mr. Badger.
Mr. Badger then lifted up the trap, and the sea gull flew away.
“I think,” remarked Mr. Badger in a satisfied tone, after the gull was far away, “that everything has worked out very well. We should be pleased with ourselves.”
“I’ll wait until tomorrow before I am pleased,” said Mr. Bear. “Being pleased in advance often ends in disaster.”
THE SEA GULL FLEW AWAY.
“What shall we do now?” asked Mr. Lobster.
“Go and catch our dinner,” said Mr. Bear, “and hope we don’t have to catch it tomorrow, too.”
The three friends then parted for the day. It was such a beautiful day that Mr. Lobster was tempted to stay ashore. But he didn’t. He went home under the Ocean where the sunlight was a lovely green, and he caught small pleasant creatures, opened two clams, and then met the sculpin and talked with him for hours.
When the three friends met the next day they were all delighted to find that the sea gull, who must have been honest at heart, as all birds are, except possibly the black crow, had brought everything he had promised.
“I have been very busy,” he said. “I could carry only seven blueberries in my bill at a time, and I have had to make over 900 trips between here and the place where they grow. And I had to drop each clam upon the rocks to break the shell and then bring it here. But I have everything, and I want to know if I may go now.”
The three friends agreed that the sea gull had carried out his promise, and he flew away, probably a very much better bird.
Mr. Badger got the two round things which had been voted pickles, and put them down near the picnic. Then they all sat d
own and had a joyous time, for Mr. Bear had blueberries, Mr. Badger had a fine piece of meat, and Mr. Lobster had a great heap of clams without their shells.
When it was all over there was nothing left but the pickles.
“My meat was perfect,” said Mr. Badger. “Our picnic turned out very well after all.”
“My clams were delicious,” said Mr. Lobster, “and I think your ideas are wonderful.”
“Well,” said Mr. Bear, “my blueberries were fresh and nice, but I do love fried fish.” And he gave a growl, but it was a low growl and a soft growl, for he was really very happy.
Mr. Lobster Takes a Very Dangerous Trip
EVER SINCE Mr. Lobster had first come ashore he had been curious about the woods, where Mr. Badger and Mr. Bear lived, and where there must be a very different kind of world from any that Mr. Lobster had ever seen. The only time he had ever been in the woods was the time Mr. Bear carried him home to cook him, and that had been such an unpleasant event, and Mr. Lobster had been so frightened and miserable, that he had forgotten all about looking closely at the woods.
“I guess,” said Mr. Lobster to himself, “that was the one time in my life when I forgot to be curious. But you can’t expect a person to be curious just before he is going to be cooked, because at such a time further knowledge seems to have little value.”
So he thought a good deal about the woods in the days that followed the picnic, and he mentioned to Mr. Badger that he might walk to the woods some day.
One day Mr. Badger brought the news that he had moved into a new burrow, the finest burrow anywhere in the woods.
“It would be a great honor to me,” he said, “if you would come to the woods and visit my new home. Also, it would cause some excitement among the creatures who live in the woods, for they have never seen a lobster. Also, again, we might make a call on Mr. Bear.”
“Oh, no, thank you,” said Mr. Lobster quickly. “You are very kind to invite me to your home, but I really couldn’t bear to go to Mr. Bear’s house again. My memory of the first visit is too unhappy.”
“Very well, but I do hope you will come. Of course, it will be a risky trip for you, but you are a hero, and all heroes are unafraid of danger. Besides, if you should start to get dry, Mr. Bear or I could easily pull you back to the beach.”
“I would rather not think of getting dry,” said Mr. Lobster, “though I know it is wise to think of everything first.”
“Well,” said Mr. Badger, “remember that you just walk straight for the woods. Go up the long hill and go straight to that tallest tree, where the permanent partridge lives, and ask him the way.”
“Is he friendly?” asked Mr. Lobster.
“Oh, yes, indeed.”
“Well, what is he?”
“He is a bird,” replied Mr. Badger. “He is the fastest and most cunning bird in our woods. We call him the permanent partridge because he has escaped all foxes and hunters and other vermin for so many years that he just seems to be permanent.”
“I am very stupid about your land creatures, I realize,” said Mr. Lobster. “You see, I didn’t know there were any permanent creatures, as I don’t know of any where I live. With us, permanent is practically forever. But what a wonderful thing it would be to be permanent! Think how wise one could become!”
“And old, too,” added Mr. Badger. “And probably you would have rheumatism if you were permanent.”
“I don’t see any necessity for such a thing,” Mr. Lobster objected. And then he added: “Whatever it is.”
“Do you mean to tell me you don’t know what rheumatism is?” Mr. Badger was amazed.
“I have never heard of it.”
“Why,” said Mr. Badger, “it is the very handiest of all ailments, because whenever you have a pain without any reason for it, or don’t feel like doing something you should, you say you have rheumatism.”
“I see,” said Mr. Lobster. “I should explain that we sea-creatures don’t have such things. We are all either alive or gone. You should try living in salt water.”
“Oh, but you are most unfortunate,” exclaimed Mr. Badger, who pretended to be serious now but could not conceal the rascally twinkle in his beady eyes. “You can never know how good you feel until you have had rheumatism.”
“I feel well now,” said Mr. Lobster.
“But just how well? Just tell me that.”
“Why, very well,” said Mr. Lobster.
“And just how well is that?” insisted Mr. Badger.
“Why, it’s very well, of course.”
“Exactly. You see, you don’t really know how well you are, because you don’t know how well very well is. Take my advice, and have rheumatism. Or at least think about having it. You know it is my motto that a little excitement and a little misery are necessary once in a while to make us appreciate peace and happiness. A little rheumatism, just a slight twinge every now and then, say on a very damp morning, will make you appreciate how well you are when you don’t have it.”
Mr. Badger was smiling now. He loved foolish arguments, and he knew how serious Mr. Lobster was about such things.
“Perhaps I should think that over,” said Mr. Lobster, “but I don’t think I shall believe a word of it. Those who cannot appreciate their good fortune and never count their own blessings are fools. As I am sure you are no fool, I know you are joking.”
The conversation ended here because it was time for Mr. Lobster to go home, and they parted in very good humor, for Mr. Badger had had his joke and Mr. Lobster had shown his wisdom; so they were both satisfied and happy.
Of course, Mr. Badger’s invitation made Mr. Lobster all the more curious about the woods. And finally, when he went ashore one day and Mr. Badger was not there, he realized that he could not stand being curious about the woods any longer but must go and visit Mr. Badger.
It was a coolish sort of day, for now the long summer was passing, and there were days of clouds and gray skies as the season drew to its end. Mr. Lobster thought that his shell would not get dry for a long time in such weather.
“This is the day I am going,” he said to himself. “I know that it is a very dangerous trip, but, as Mr. Badger said, I am a hero. Besides, you never get anywhere by just sitting down and wishing.”
And with these words of wisdom, and trying to forget about the danger of such a long trip, he started in a straight line for the tallest tree that he could see above the woods in the distance.
Now Mr. Lobster had never before walked nearly so far on land, and he did not realize when he started that it was almost a mile to the woods. It was much farther than he supposed, the way it is so often when people start boldly to go somewhere they have never been. Also, it was rather late in the day when he started, for he had been delayed on his way by stopping to open three large clams, which had tasted very good.
On and on he went, keeping his eyes on the tallest tree where lived the permanent partridge. There was a good deal of up-hill going, which was hard for him, and which might have turned some travelers back. But not Mr. Lobster.
“In life,” Mr. Lobster said to himself as he struggled up a hill, “you must never stop for the up-hills. There has to be a down-hill for every up-hill, but you never can have the down-hill until you have conquered the up-hill. I shall have the down-hill when I go home.”
So he climbed up and up the hill, and, although he didn’t turn around to see, which would have been a wise thing to do, he was getting high above his home in the blue Ocean, and quite a distance away.
When he reached the woods he found that he could no longer look up and tell the top of the tallest tree from the tops of other trees, for the sky was gray, and all the tops of the trees were so far above him that it was impossible to tell which was which from his position. He did not want to go outside the woods again to look; so he decided to keep walking anyway.
He was delighted with the woods, and he kept looking every way to see the flowers and bushes and small trees.
“If we on
ly had something like this at the bottom of the Ocean,” he thought. “I wonder why somebody didn’t plant woods there.”
As soon as Mr. Lobster satisfied his curiosity about one thing he was curious about another.
He crawled through the woods in a very happy frame of mind, and in a rather forgetful one. For suddenly he realized that it was getting dark, and he had not found the permanent partridge, and he had not come to Mr. Badger’s home.
“I must now go home myself,” he thought.
So he turned right around to look for the way back to the beach, but all that he could see was trees, and the great sky dark with the oncoming night.
“Perhaps it is this way,” he said to himself, and off he went.
“No, it must be this way,” he said then, and he went in another direction.
But none of the directions seemed to be right, because he could not see the edge of the woods, and he could not see the Ocean.
Then Mr. Lobster knew that he was lost. He was a sea creature lost on land! And he was alone. All the birds seemed to have gone to bed, and he didn’t see a single creature moving about; so there was no one from whom he could ask the way to go. If only Mr. Badger had been there to remind him that he was a hero things might have been better, but there was no Mr. Badger, and Mr. Lobster forgot all about being a hero. He was just plain afraid, terribly afraid.
“I shall certainly dry up without a chance to save myself,” he thought. “When Mr. Badger finds me there won’t be anything left but my shell. I shall be gone. That will make Mr. Badger miserable, and it will be the end of our friendship.”
Sadness overpowered Mr. Lobster, and he was unable to move for some time. He had been in some pretty tight places in his long life, but never had been in a tight place so far from home and, worst of all, on land. This seemed to be the most unhappy moment of his entire existence.
The sun went down red in the far west, and the glow of it came in through the trees so that every great trunk stood out black and straight. From the distance a small creature who had been waiting for the dusk sent out a little peep to try the air and see if it was time for him to come out. The gray gloom in the woods darkened, changing from the dim light of evening to the silent dark of the night.
The Curious Lobster Page 10
