Tucker's Countryside (2 page)

“Everything?” Harry looked around the drain pipe skeptically. Tucker's possessions were piled all over—in corners, on top of newspapers, under newspapers, everywhere.

“Of course!” said Tucker. He dashed over to one corner, picked up the heel of a lady's high-heel shoe, and cradled it gently in his arms. “You don't think I'd leave this beautiful heel here, do you?” He dropped the heel and dashed over to another corner. Shreds of newspaper flew up in a gale as he rummaged amid the mess. Then he held up two tiny white pearls. “And my pearls!
Surely,
Harry, you remember who it was who dashed out last January, when that lady's strand snapped, and salvaged these beautiful pearls!”

“It slips my mind,” said Harry innocently.

“It was
me!
” said Tucker. “And right during rush hour too!”

“Well, they're only fake pearls,” said Harry.

“Fake or not, they're
mine!
” shouted the mouse. “You know, Harry, you and me aren't the only people living in this subway station. There's a pack of dishonest rats living in the drain pipes on the other side, and they would
love
the chance to swipe a few of my things!” Another thought struck him; he dropped the pearls and clutched at his heart. “Oh, my buttons! My beautiful collection of buttons!”

“Now quiet down,” said Harry Cat. As Tucker was dashing off to find his buttons, the big cat lifted his right front paw and brought it down on the mouse's back, squashing him—very gently—to the floor. That was how he helped his friend relax when Tucker got too excited.

“Harry, if you wouldn't mind—the paw, please, Harry—if you wouldn't mind.”

“Will you be reasonable?” said Harry.

“I'm always reasonable,” said Tucker Mouse.

Harry lifted his paw, and Tucker stood up. “And besides my heel, my pearls, my buttons, and all the keys, hairpins, and everything else I've managed to scrounge up through the years, what about
this?
” Very grandly Tucker marched across the drain pipe and pulled aside a sheet of paper propped against the wall. There, neatly piled up, were two dollars and eighty-six cents, in pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters, with one big half dollar on the bottom. “My life savings!” proclaimed Tucker Mouse. “And wouldn't those rats love to get their claws on this! Believe me, Harry, they wouldn't spend it on charity!”

“I'll take care of everything—once and for all!” said Harry Cat. Usually Harry moved in a slow, stealthy way, but sometimes he moved like lightning—as he did now. Before either Tucker or John Robin knew what was happening, the big cat began to sweep all Tucker's valuables into a heap.

Tucker was frantic when he saw what was happening. “Harry, stop! What are you doing? Oh—my buttons! Don't scratch the pearls!
My life savings
—!”

In a cascade of silver Harry pushed over the column of small change and added it to the mound of Tucker's possessions. Then, with one paw, he pulled away a little section of the drain-pipe wall and revealed a dark hole. As Tucker danced around madly, shouting, “It won't be safe! It won't be safe!” Harry scooped all the things inside the tiny cave and replaced the section of wall. “There!” Harry said, when the work was finished. “And it
will
be safe!” He rubbed his fur back and forth against the spot where Tucker's treasure had disappeared. “I'll leave a lot of cat smell here. Any rat who noses around will get the daylights scared out of him!”

“Ruined!” Tucker Mouse wrung his two front paws. “I'm ruined. The fruits of all these years of scrounging—gone!”

“And they'll still be here when we get back,” said Harry Cat. “Now how about something to eat? John must be hungry if he flew all the way down from Connecticut—aren't you, John?”

“I don't want to be any trouble,” said the robin, who secretly was famished but didn't think he'd find anything he liked to eat in New York.

The thought of food made Tucker perk up a little. “What's your preference?” he asked the little bird.

“Oh—worms, mostly,” said John.

“Worms I don't have,” said Tucker. “And don't want.”

“I also like seeds,” said John Robin.

“Seeds. Hmmm.” Tucker Mouse wiggled his whiskers—which helped him think. He went over to the part of the drain pipe he called “the pantry,” where he kept all the bits of sandwiches and candy bars and other things he picked up around the lunch counters in the station. A minute's fumbling and he had found what he was looking for—a big crust, which he brought over and set down in front of the robin. “It's from a seeded roll,” he said. “You could peck out the seeds.”

John took a peck at the crust. “Delicious! Never tasted anything like it!”

“A mere poppyseed roll,” said Tucker with a wave of his paw. “New York is full of such wonders.”

“And after we eat I want to hear you sing some more,” said Harry.

“Be glad to,” said John Robin with a mouthful of poppy seeds.

About half an hour later a man named Anderson was passing through the subway station on his way home to New Rochelle. He heard something and stopped to listen. The sound stopped too. But then, in a moment, it started again. Mr. Anderson shook his head. He knew it was impossible, but it actually sounded like a little songbird—singing to his heart's delight inside that drain-pipe opening.

TWO

Connecticut

Late that night the cat, the mouse, and the robin were almost ready to leave for Connecticut. John Robin was hopping back and forth impatiently. “Don't you think we ought to get going?” he said. “We don't want to miss the train.”

“Tucker, what are you doing?” called Harry Cat.

Tucker Mouse was over in his pantry, making a great stir about something. He came back to the others carrying a big package neatly wrapped in wax paper retrieved from the Nedick's lunch counter and tied with string from the Loft's Candy Store. “This is one thing I
am
taking,” he said.

“What is it?” said Harry.

“Never mind.” Tucker held the bundle out of the cat's reach. “It's something for Chester.”

“Gee, let's
go!
” In his impatience John Robin hopped up so high that he hit his head on the drainpipe ceiling.

“All right, all right,” said Tucker. “Take it easy. I don't want you braining yourself in my living room.” He sighed and took a last look around the drain pipe. “My nice home—I wonder if I'll ever see it again.”

“Of course you will,” said Harry Cat. “Now come on.”

They began the climb up through the labyrinth of pipes to the street. Harry went first, Tucker last, and John Robin stayed in the middle so he wouldn't get lost down any of the dozens of openings they passed. In a few minutes they were on the sidewalk. Times Square stretched up above and all around them. Most of the moviegoers and crowds from the theaters had gone home, but the huge neon signs were still spilling their torrents of color over the Square.

“Goodbye, Times Square,” said Tucker Mouse. “The soul who loves you most is going away.”

“For goodness' sakes!” said Harry Cat. “You sound like the last act of an Italian opera!” Harry liked opera very much and had sneaked into the Metropolitan Opera House many times.

The three of them went down Forty-second Street toward Grand Central Station. John Robin flew on ahead—it was easier for him than hopping—and then waited on the curb until the cat and the mouse came creeping along under the cars that lined the street.

They reached Bryant Park, the neat little patch of grass and trees behind the Public Library on the corner of Fifth Avenue. “That's the only countryside I've ever seen,” said Tucker to the robin.

John flew up, circled once over the park, and came back. “Why, that's nothing!” he said. “Most of the houses near the Meadow have
lawns
that are bigger than that!”

They continued on. While Harry and Tucker were padding silently under a big Cadillac, the mouse suddenly said, “Harry, if even the houses have lawns that are bigger than Bryant Park, there must be a lot of open space in Connecticut.”

“I guess so,” said Harry Cat.

“Do they have wild animals in Connecticut, Harry?”

“Most likely.”

“What kind of wild animals?”

“Oh—lions, tigers. Elephants, maybe.”

“Harry, if you wouldn't mind—be serious, please!”

“Don't worry, Mousiekins,” said Harry. “I'll protect you!” He sometimes called Tucker “Mousiekins” when he wanted to tease him.

But Tucker was not amused. He trudged along behind, muttering, “Bears. I'll bet they have bears anyway.”

And at last they reached Grand Central Station. Down they went, through the same series of pipes and deserted corridors and drafty back rooms that Tucker and Harry had passed last September. But then Chester Cricket had been clinging tightly to the fur on Harry's back. The Late Local Express was still leaving from track 18. This time of night there were very few passengers, so the animals had no trouble slipping into a shady corner in one of the compartments between the cars. And they didn't have long to wait either. In a few minutes there was a lurch and a screech of iron wheels, and the train began to move.

“We're going!” shouted Tucker Mouse. “I feel it—we're really moving, Harry! Our first trip anywhere! Oh! oh! oh!”

“Now, take it easy,” said Harry Cat, and lifted his right front paw.

“You wouldn't squash me, please, Harry,” said Tucker indignantly. “That's no way to begin a trip!”

“Then don't get too excited,” said Harry, and lowered his paw.

“A fine thing!” sniffed Tucker Mouse. “I couldn't even get excited on my very first journey!”

“You can get excited, Mousiekins. But
not
hysterical!”

They all settled back to enjoy the ride.

*   *   *

Three and a half hours later the three friends were wondering about the name of the train they were on. They understood the “Late” and the “Local” part, but they couldn't imagine why anyone would call it an “Express.” It seemed to stop at every crossroads, and when it did stop, it waited—and waited—and
waited!
“We've been on this thing long enough to get to Canada!” complained Harry Cat. He was a very curious cat, Harry was, and he enjoyed looking at the maps that sometimes appeared in the newspapers he and Tucker used to furnish their home. So he knew the direction in which they were traveling: northwest and then due north.

“I think we're almost there,” said John Robin. He flew up and took a look out of the window in the compartment where they were. In the black night heavens, the moon, which was just a few days past the full, was shining brightly. It looked as if some great sky monster had begun to nibble away at it. “I was right—we're here!” said John, and flew down again. “I recognize the houses outside.”

“Thank goodness!” said Tucker Mouse. He stood up and stretched his limbs. They were sore from the pounding of the wheels below. “We should have stowed away on a Greyhound bus instead.”

The train rattled to a halt. “Everybody off!” said the robin. Since no one was getting out at this station, the conductor didn't bother to open the door, and the animals had to scramble down through an opening between two cars. “Welcome to
Hedley!
” said John when they were on the platform.

“Is that the name of the town?” said Harry.

“Yes.” The robin pointed with one wing. Down on the wall of the station house a sign lit up by an electric bulb said
HEDLEY CONNECTICUT
. “Hedley was the name of the man who settled this whole part of the state.”

Tucker Mouse looked around. “Where's Chester?”

“Oh, it was too far for him to come all the way to the station,” said John. “I'm afraid we have a long walk ahead of us.”

“I don't care
how
long it is!” said Harry Cat. “As long as we're off that train!”

They set off, with John Robin sometimes fluttering, sometimes hopping along in the lead. Tucker had a hard time with his package. He tried to carry it first in his right front paw, then in his left front, then switching often from one to the other. It seemed to get heavier and heavier, and he kept falling farther and farther behind. He wouldn't think of abandoning it, though. When Harry saw what was happening, he went up to Tucker without a word and hooked the string around the package under one of his sharp lower teeth. It was no weight at all for a big cat like Harry.

They went on walking. At first they passed stores, offices, a movie theater—the kind of buildings you would find in the center of a town. There was almost no one on the streets. The store fronts were dark, and only the high street lights cast patches of brightness down where the animals scurried along. Then, when they got to the parts of Hedley where people lived, there were apartment houses, and two-family houses, and finally single-family homes. Tucker had never seen one before in his life, and even Harry had only seen the town houses of the upper East Side in New York, and they were all connected.