Tucker's Countryside

 

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CONTENTS

Title Page

Copyright Notice

Dedication

1.
John Robin

2.
Connecticut

3.
The Old Meadow

4.
Ellen

5.
Harry the House Cat

6.
Flood

7.
Indoors

8.
Bertha

9.
The Picket Line

10.
Henry's House

11.
How to Build a Discovery

12.
Hedley Day

13.
Another Goodbye

Teaser

1.
Tucker

2.
Mario

Copyright

 

For Don Reynolds,

with thanks for being who he is

ONE

John Robin

Tucker Mouse was definitely suffering from a touch of spring fever.

It happened every year toward the end of May. The course of the sun swung over just far enough, and a single bright ray was able to dart down through a grating in the sidewalk of Times Square, make its way through a maze of pipes and pillars in the subway station, and land, with a golden splash, right in front of the drain pipe where Tucker lived. Of course, in a week or so the sun would move on, and that ray would have to waste itself up in the streets of New York. But for these few days Tucker Mouse had sunshine on his doorstep—which is something very hard to have, if you live in the subway station at Times Square!

And he had something even more wonderful, too. Warmed by the sun, a few blades of grass were sprouting out of a pile of dirt right next to the drain pipe. Tucker didn't have any idea how the seeds could have gotten down there in the first place. But there they were—three lovely green blades, poking up through all the soot and dust. Tucker called them his “garden” and watered them twice a day with whatever he could collect in a paper cup from a leaky pipe in the subway walls. They wouldn't last long either. Even before the sun had moved on, he knew that the grass would be trampled down by all the commuters who streamed through the subway station every morning and evening. It made him sort of sad, to think that his grass would soon be gone.

But today, at least, he had his garden and a puddle of sunlight to sit in as well. And the air was sweet and soft and clean, the way the air gets in the springtime—even in the Times Square subway station—and Tucker Mouse really did have a very bad case of spring fever. It was getting worse by the minute. He had decided to go back inside the drain pipe and take a nap before he fell asleep right there, out in the open, and got himself stepped on, when something caught his eye.

It was a flutter of little wings behind the Bellinis' newsstand. Tucker peered more closely. Then he called back into the drain pipe, “Harry, there's a bird in the subway station.”

A few feet within the wall the pipe opened out into a larger space, where Tucker kept all the things he'd collected. Harry Cat was lying back there, stretched out on a pile of crumpled newspapers, half asleep and half awake to the lovely afternoon. “Is it a pigeon?” he asked. Sometimes a pigeon would fly into the station and flutter around for days before it found its way out again.

“No,” said Tucker. “It's a little bird.”

Harry padded softly to the opening of the drain pipe and stuck his head out where Tucker was sitting. “Where?”

“Over there,” said Tucker. “He's sitting on top of the Bellinis' newsstand.”

Harry Cat studied the bird a minute. “It's a robin,” he said. “See the red on his chest? Now what would a robin be doing down here?”

“Maybe he's going to take the shuttle over to Grand Central Station,” said Tucker.

“Don't be silly!” said Harry Cat. “He'd fly.”

Just then the robin flickered up from the back of the newsstand and began to fly around the station. He perched for a second on the roof of one of the shuttle cars—then swooped over toward the Nedick's lunch counter.

“I think he's looking for something,” said Harry.

And indeed the robin was looking for something. He whished past the lunch counter and gave Mickey, the counterman, such a start that he let a chocolate soda overflow. Then the little bird darted over toward the Loft's Candy Store, brushed past its glass windows, circled back over the opening to the drain pipe, and suddenly—much to Tucker's and Harry's surprise—dropped down and landed right in front of them.

“Whee-
ooo!
” said the robin. “Thought I'd never find you.” He hopped up close to the opening and then hopped back again. “You
are
Tucker Mouse, aren't you?”

“Yes,” said Tucker. “Who are you?”

“John Robin,” said the little bird. He took a few more hops, back and forth. “And this would be—um—”

“Harry Cat,” said Harry.

“Yes, well, I—uh—” John Robin couldn't seem to stand still. He would hop up, almost inside the drain pipe, and then quickly jump away again.

“What are you bouncing around like that for?” said Tucker Mouse.

“Well, it's just that I—uh—I mean, he really
is
a—a sort of a
cat,
you know. And up in Connecticut, where I come from, birds and cats don't—it's awfully old-fashioned, I guess—but they just don't get along to well.”

“Harry, he's scared of you,” said Tucker. “Do something nice to show him it's all right.”

Harry Cat grinned and said, “What shall I do? Purr a little? M
MMMMMMM
!” He gave out a long, contented cat's purr.

“Just don't eat me!” said John Robin. “That'll be nice enough. Chester said he was sure you wouldn't, but—”

“Chester
Cricket?
” burst out Tucker. “Do you know Chester?”

“Course I know him,” said the robin. “Known him for years. Dorothy and I—she's my wife—we nest in the willow tree next to his stump.”

“How is he?” said Harry, purring in earnest now because he was so happy to hear some news of his old friend.

“Oh, he's fine,” said John Robin. “Chipper as ever.”

“Does he still play as beautifully as he used to?” asked Tucker.

“Even more so.”

“What a musician!” Tucker shook his head in wonderment. “Did he tell you about what happened to him down here in New York?”

“Oh yes,” said John Robin. “When he got back last September, he told us all about it. Very nice, I'm sure. But you know, we've got a
lot
of good musicians up in the Meadow.” The little bird cocked his head rather proudly to one side. “Far as that goes, I'm not a half-bad singer myself! But there's no time to talk about that now. I'm here on serious business.”

“Come in the house,” said Tucker. “It's almost time for the commuters, and I wouldn't want any friend of Chester's to get trampled on.”

The cat and the mouse turned and went into the drain pipe, and John Robin, after one dubious look at the dark opening, hopped in after them. They all went up to the pocket inside and made themselves comfortable on the newspapers.

“Now what's the serious business?” said Harry Cat.

“We've got big worries up in the Old Meadow,” said John Robin. “Chester and Simon Turtle are just worried to death. They're sort of the heads of the Meadow—Simon because he's the oldest person there, and Chester, well, just because he's Chester—and they're almost frantic. We all are!”

“What's the problem?” asked Tucker.

“I'd rather wait and let Chester explain it to you himself,” said the robin. “The point is, I was sent down to New York to ask you—in fact to
beg
you and Mister Cat here—”

“Call me Harry,” said Harry.

“—to beg you and Harry to come up to Connecticut right away! Chester said that you used to be his manager and that you were very good at solving problems.” The robin shook his head hopelessly. “And I'm here to tell you, we've sure got a problem up in the Old Meadow!”

Tucker looked at Harry and then looked back at John Robin. “Well, I don't know,” he began. “Harry and I have talked about going to see Chester some time, but Connecticut's an awful long way away, and—”

“Oh,
please!
” interrupted the robin. “Connecticut's not so far. And if a little cricket like Chester could take the train up there, two big fellows like you certainly can too! We need you terribly! Honest! If you don't come, I don't know
what
we're going to do!” John Robin was so upset and anxious that he hopped around frantically and got his claws all tangled up in torn newspapers. But he quieted down after a while and just stood staring at the floor of the drain pipe.

For a minute or so everyone was silent. Nobody looked at anybody. Then Harry Cat said quietly, “We'll go.”

Tucker Mouse shrugged. “So—we'll go.”

“Thank
goodness!
” The robin was so relieved that he burst out in a little, spontaneous song.

“When shall we leave?” said Harry.

“Could you come tonight?” John began bobbing up and down impatiently. “We could take the Late Local Express, the way Chester did.”

“Tonight?” Tucker Mouse jumped up on his feet. “But I have to pack!”

“What do you have to pack?” said Harry Cat quizzically.

“Why, why—
everything!
” announced the mouse.