"Won't you tell me all that has happened since you started on yourlong journey?" asked Peter. "Perhaps some of us can help you."
"I'm afraid you can't," replied Mrs. Quack sadly, "but I'll tellyou all about it so that you may know just how thankful you oughtto feel that you do not have to suffer what some of us do."
X
HOW MR. AND MRS. QUACK STARTED NORTH
Peter Rabbit was eager to help Mrs. Quack in her trouble, thoughhe hadn't the least idea how he could help and neither had she. Howany one who dislikes water as Peter does could help one who liveson the water all the time was more than either one of them couldsee. And yet without knowing it, Peter WAS helping Mrs. Quack.He was giving her his sympathy, and sympathy often helps othersa great deal more than we even guess. It sometimes is a very goodplan to tell your troubles to some one who will listen with sympathy.It was so with Mrs. Quack. She had kept her troubles locked inher own heart so long that it did her good to pour them all out toPeter.
"Mr. Quack and I spent a very comfortable winter way down inthe sunny Southland," said she with a far-away look. "It was verywarm and nice down there, and there were a great many other Ducksspending the winter with us. The place where we were was far fromthe homes of men, and it was only once in a long while that we hadto watch out for terrible guns. Of course, we had to have our witswith us all the time, because there are Hawks and Owls and Minksdown there just as there are up here, but any Duck who can't keepout of their way deserves to furnish one of them a dinner.
"Then there was another fellow we had to watch out for, a queerfellow whom we never see anywhere but down there. It was never safeto swim too near an old log floating in the water or lying on thebank, because it might suddenly open a great mouth and swallow oneof us whole."
"What's that?" Peter Rabbit leaned forward and stared at Mrs. Quackwith his eyes popping right out. "What's that?" he repeated. "Howcan an old log have a mouth?"
Mrs. Quack just had to smile, Peter was so in earnest and lookedso astonished.
"Of course," said she, "no really truly log has a mouth or is alive,but this queer fellow I was speaking of looks so much like an oldlog floating in the water unless you look at him very sharply,that many a heedless young Duck has discovered the difference whenit was too late. Then, too, he will swim under water and come upunderneath and seize you without any warning. He has the biggestmouth I've ever seen, with terrible-looking teeth, and could swallowme whole."
[Illustration with caption: "Some folks call him Alligator and somejust 'Gator."]
By this time Peter's eyes looked as if they would fall out of hishead. "What is his name?" whispered Peter.
"It's Old Ally the 'Gator," replied Mrs. Quack. "Some folks callhim Alligator and some just 'Gator, but we call him Old Ally. He's avery interesting old fellow. Some time perhaps I'll tell you moreabout him. Mr. Quack and I kept out of his reach, you may be sure.We lived quietly and tried to get in as good condition as possiblefor the long journey back to our home in the North. When it wastime to start, a lot of us got together, just as we did when we camedown from the North, only this time the young Ducks felt themselvesquite grown up. In fact, before we started there was a great dealof love-making, and each one chose a mate. That was a very happytime, a very happy time indeed, but it was a sad time too for usolder Ducks, because we knew what dreadful things were likely tohappen on the long journey. It is hard enough to lose father ormother or brother or sister, but it is worse to lose a dear mate."
Mrs. Quack's eyes suddenly filled with tears again. "Oh, dear,"she sobbed, "I wish I knew what became of Mr. Quack."
Peter said nothing, but looked the sympathy he felt. Presently Mrs.Quack went on with her story. "We had a splendid big flock when westarted, made up wholly of pairs, each pair dreaming of the homethey would build when they reached the far North. Mr. Quack wasthe leader as usual, and I flew right behind him. We hadn't gonefar before we began to hear the terrible guns, and the farther wewent, the worse they got. Mr. Quack led us to the safest feedingand resting grounds he knew of, and for a time our flock escapedthe terrible guns. But the farther we went, the more guns therewere." Mrs. Quack paused and Peter waited.
XI
THE TERRIBLE, TERRIBLE GUNS
"Bang! Bang! Bang! Not a feather spare! Kill! Kill! Kill!Wound and rip and tear!"
That is what the terrible guns roar from morning to night at Mrs.Quack and her friends as they fly on their long journey to theirhome in the far North. I don't wonder that she was terribly uneasyand nervous as she sat in the Smiling Pool talking to Peter Rabbit;do you?
"Yes," said she, continuing her story of her long journey from thesunny Southland where she had spent the winter, "the farther wegot, the more there were of those terrible guns. It grew so badthat as well as Mr. Quack knew the places where we could find food,and no Duck that ever flew knew them better, he couldn't find onewhere we could feel perfectly sure that we were safe. The verysafest-looking places sometimes were the most dangerous. If you sawa lot of Rabbits playing together on the Green Meadows, you wouldfeel perfectly safe in joining them, wouldn't you?"
Peter nodded. "I certainly would," said he. "If it was safe forthem it certainly would be safe for me."
"Well, that is just the way we felt when we saw a lot of Ducksswimming about on the edge of one of those feeding-places. We weretired, for we had flown a long distance, and we were hungry. Itwas still and peaceful there and not a thing to be seen that lookedthe least bit like danger. So we went straight in to join thoseDucks, and then, just as we set our wings to drop down on the wateramong them, there was a terrible bang, bang, bang, bang! My heartalmost stopped beating. Then how we did fly! When we were farout over the water where we could see that nothing was near us westopped to rest, and there we found only half as many in our flockas there had been."
"Where were the others?" asked Peter, although he guessed.
"Killed or hurt by those terrible guns," replied Mrs. Quack sadly."And that wasn't the worst of it. I told you that when we startedeach of us had a mate. Now we found that of those who had escaped,four had lost their mates. They were heartbroken. When it cametime for us to move on, they wouldn't go. They said that if theydid reach the nesting-place in the far North, they couldn't havenests or eggs or young because they had no mates, so what was theuse? Besides, they hoped that if they waited around they might findtheir mates. They thought they might not have been killed, but justhurt, and might be able to get away from those hunters. So theyleft us and swam back towards that terrible place, calling for theirlost mates, and it was the saddest sound. I know now just how theyfelt, for I have lost Mr. Quack, and that's why I'm here." Mrs.Quack drew a wing across her eyes to wipe away the tears.
"But what happened to those Ducks that were swimming about thereand made you think it was safe?" asked Peter, with a puzzled lookon his face.
"Nothing," replied Mrs. Quack. "They had been fastened out therein the water by the hunters so as to make us think it safe, and theterrible guns were fired at us and not at them. The hunters werehidden under grass, and that is why we didn't see them."
Peter blinked his eyes rapidly as if he were having hard work tobelieve what he had been told. "Why," said he at last, "I neverheard of anything so dreadfully unfair in all my life! Do you meanto tell me that those hunters actually made other Ducks lead youinto danger?"
"That's just what I mean," returned Mrs. Quack. "Those two-leggedcreatures don't know what fairness is. Why, some of them havelearned our language and actually call us in where they can shootus. Just think of that! They tell us in our own language that thereis plenty to eat and all is safe, so that we will think that otherDucks are hidden and feeding there, and then when we go to jointhem, we are shot at! You ought to be mighty thankful, Peter Rabbit,that you are not a Duck."
"I am," replied Peter. He knew that not one of the meadow and forestpeople who were always trying to catch him would do a thing likethat.
"It's all true," said Mrs. Quack, "a
nd those hunters do other thingsjust as unfair. Sometimes awful storms will come up, and we justhave to find places where we can rest. Those hunters will hidenear those places and shoot at us when we are so tired that we canhardly move a wing. It wouldn't be so bad if a hunter would besatisfied to kill just one Duck, just as Reddy Fox is, but he seemsto want to kill EVERY Duck. Foxes and Hawks and Owls catch a goodmany young Ducks, just as they do young Rabbits, but you know howwe feel about that. They only hunt when they are hungry, and theyhunt fairly. When, they have got enough to make a dinner, they stop.They keep our wits sharp. If we do not keep out of their way, itis our own fault. It is a kind of game--the game of life. I guessit is Old Mother Nature's way of keeping us wide-awake and sharpeningour wits, and so making us better fitted to live.
"With these two-legged creatures with terrible guns, it is alldifferent. We don't have any chance at all. If they hunted us asReddy Fox does, tried to catch us themselves, it would be different.But their terrible guns kill when we are a long way off, and thereisn't any way for us to know of the danger. And then, when one ofthem does kill a Duck, he isn't satisfied, but keeps on killingand killing and killing. I'm sure one would make him a dinner, ifthat is what he wants.
"And they often simply break the wings or otherwise terribly hurtthe ones they shoot at, and then leave them to suffer, unableto take care of themselves. Oh, dear, I'm afraid that is what hashappened to Mr. Quack."
Once more poor Mrs. Quack was quite overcome with her troubles andsorrows. Peter wished with all his heart that he could do somethingto comfort her, but of course he couldn't, so he just sat still andwaited until she could tell him just what did happen to Mr. Quack.
XII
WHAT DID HAPPEN TO MR. QUACK
"When did you last see Mr. Quack?" asked Jerry Muskrat, who hadbeen listening while Mrs. Quack told Peter Rabbit about her terriblejourney.
"Early yesterday morning," replied Mrs. Quack, the tears once morefilling her eyes. "We had reached the Big River over there, justsix of us out of the big flock that had started from the sunnySouthland. How we got as far as that I don't know. But we did, andneither Mr. Quack nor I had lost a feather from those terrible gunsthat had banged at us all the way up and that had killed so manyof our friends.
"We were flying up the Big River, and everything seemed perfectlysafe. We were in a hurry, and when we came to a bend in the BigRiver, we flew quite close to shore, so as not to have to go wayout and around. That was where Mr. Quack made a mistake. Even thesmartest people will make mistakes sometimes, you know."
Peter Rabbit nodded, "I know," said he. "I've made them myself."And then he wondered why Jerry Muskrat laughed right out.
"Yes," continued Mrs. Quack, "that is where Mr. Quack made a mistake,a great mistake. I suppose that because not a single gun had beenfired at us that morning he thought perhaps there were no hunterson the Big River. So to save time he led us close to shore. Andthen it happened. There was a bang, bang of a terrible gun, anddown fell Mr. Quack just as we had seen so many fall before. It wasawful. There was Mr. Quack flying in front of me on swift, strongwings, and there never was a swifter, stronger flier or a handsomerDuck than Mr. Quack, and then all in the wink of an eye he wastumbling helplessly down, down to the water below, and I was flyingon alone, for the other Ducks turned off, and I don't know whatbecame of them. I couldn't stop to see what became of Mr. Quack,because if I had, that terrible gun would have killed me. So I kepton a little way and then turned and went back, only I kept out inthe middle of the Big River. I dropped down on the water and swamabout, calling and calling, but I didn't get any answer, and so Idon't know what has become of Mr. Quack. I am afraid he was killed,and if he was, I wish I had been killed myself."
Here Mrs. Quack choked up so that she couldn't say another word.Peter's own eyes were full of tears as he tried to comfort her."Perhaps," said he, "Mr. Quack wasn't killed and is hiding somewherealong the Big River. I don't know why I feel so, but I feel surethat he wasn't killed, and that you will find him yet."
"That's why I've waited instead of going on," replied Mrs. Quackbetween sobs, "though it wouldn't have been of any use to go onwithout my dear mate. I'm going back to the Big River now to lookfor him. The trouble is, I don't dare go near the shore, and if heis alive, he probably is hiding somewhere among the rushes along thebanks. I think I'll be going along now, but I'll be back to-nightif nothing happens to me. You folks who can always stay at homehave a great deal to be thankful for."
"It's lucky for me that Mrs. Peter wasn't here to hear her saythat," said Peter, as he and Jerry Muskrat watched Mrs. Quack flyswiftly towards the Big River. "Mrs. Peter is forever worrying andscolding because I don't stay in the dear Old Briar-patch. If shehad heard Mrs. Quack say that, I never would have heard the lastof it. I wish there was something we could do for Mrs. Quack. I'mgoing back to the dear Old Briar-patch to think it over, and I guessthe sooner I start the better, for that looks to me like Reddy Foxover there, and he's headed this way."
So off for home started Peter, lipperty-lipperty-lip, as fast ashe could go, and all the way there he was turning over in his mindwhat Mrs. Quack had told him and trying to think of some way tohelp her.
XIII
PETER TELLS ABOUT MRS. QUACK
To get things done, if you'll but try, You'll always find thereis a way. What you yourself can't do alone The chancesare another may.
When Peter Rabbit was once more safely back in the dear Old Briar-patch,he told Mrs. Peter all about poor Mrs. Quack and her troubles. Thenfor a long, long time he sat in a brown study. A brown study, youknow, is sitting perfectly still and thinking very hard. That waswhat Peter did. He sat so still that if you had happened along,you probably would have thought him asleep. But he wasn't asleep.No, indeed! He was just thinking and thinking. He was trying tothink of some way to help Mrs. Quack. At last he gave a little sighof disappointment.
[Illustration with caption: "Just tuck that fact away in that emptyhead of yours and never say can't."]
"It can't be done," said he. "There isn't any way."
"What can't be done?" demanded a voice right over his head.
Peter looked up. There sat Sammy Jay. Peter had been thinking sohard that he hadn't seen Sammy arrive.
"What can't be done?" repeated Sammy. "There isn't anything thatcan't be done. There are plenty of things that you can't do, butwhat you can't do some one else can. Just tuck that fact away inthat empty head of yours and never say can't." You know Sammy dearlyloves to tease Peter.
Peter made a good-natured face at Sammy. "Which means, I suppose,that what I can't do you can. You always did have a pretty goodopinion of yourself, Sammy," said he.
"Nothing of the kind," retorted Sammy. "I simply mean that nobodycan do everything, and that very often two heads are better thanone. It struck me that you had something on your mind, and I thoughtI might be able to help you get rid of it. But of course, if youdon't want my help, supposing I could and would give it to you,that is an end of the matter, and I guess I'll be on my way. TheOld Briar-patch is rather a dull place anyway."
Peter started to make a sharp retort, but thought better of it.Instead he replied mildly: "I was just trying to think of some wayto help poor Mrs. Quack."
"Help Mrs. Quack!" exclaimed Sammy in surprise. "Where under thesun did you get acquainted with Mrs. Quack? What's the matter withher? She always has looked to me quite able to help herself."
"Well, she isn't. That is, she needs others to help her just now,"replied Peter, "and I've been most thinking my head off trying tofind a way to help her." Then he told Sammy how he had met Mrs.Quack at the Smiling Pool and how terrible her long journey up fromthe sunny Southland had been, and how Mr. Quack had been shot bya hunter with a terrible gun, and how poor Mrs. Quack was quiteheartbroken, and how she had gone over to the Big River to lookfor him but didn't dare go near the places where he might be hidingif he were still alive and hurt so that he couldn't fly, and howcruel and terribly unfair were t
he men with terrible guns, and allthe other things he had learned from Mrs. Quack.
Sammy listened with his head cocked on one side, and for once hedidn't interrupt Peter or try to tease him or make fun of him. Infact, as Peter looked up at him, he could see that Sammy was veryserious and thoughtful, and that the more he heard of Mrs. Quack'sstory the more thoughtful he looked. When Peter finished, Sammyflew down a little nearer to Peter.
"I beg your pardon for saying your head is empty, Peter," said he."Your heart is right, anyway. Of course, there isn't anything youcan do to help Mrs. Quack, but as I told you in the beginning,what you can't do others can. Now I don't say that I can help Mrs.Quack, but I can try. I believe I'll do a little thinking myself."
So Sammy Jay in his turn went into a brown study, and Peter watchedhim anxiously and a little hopefully.
XIV
SAMMY JAY'S PLAN TO HELP MRS. QUACK
Sammy Jay sat on the lowest branch of a little tree in the dearOld Briar-patch just over Peter Rabbit's head, thinking as hardas ever he could. Peter watched him and wondered if Sammy wouldbe able to think of any plan for helping poor Mrs. Quack. He hopedso. He himself had thought and thought until he felt as if hisbrains were all mixed up and he couldn't think any more. So hewatched Sammy and waited and hoped.
Presently Sammy flirted his wings in a way which Peter knew meantthat he had made up his mind. "Did I understand you to say thatMrs. Quack said that if Mr. Quack is alive, he probably is hidingamong the rushes along the banks of the Big River?" he asked.
The Adventures of Poor Mrs. Quack Page 3
