Tucker's Countryside (5 page)

“What's the next plan?” asked Bill Squirrel.

Tucker looked at all the faces that were staring at him hopefully. He shifted from one foot to the other. “I can't think of anything else. Right now.”

Gloom spread among the animals. And whispers went back and forth: “No plan,” “No other plan,” “The mouse has no more plans.”

Henry Chipmunk looked in Tucker's eyes a moment and then glanced away. “We were—we were sort of—counting on you, Mr. Mouse. Chester told us how smart you were, and we thought—we thought—” But his voice broke. He put his two little front paws up to his own eyes and began to cry.

“Now, now, Henry—don't do that.” Chester Cricket patted the chipmunk on the back. He was so little that Henry could hardly feel it through his fur, but it helped, and the chipmunk stopped crying. “Tucker and Harry only got here today. They'll think of something before too long. Why don't all you folks go home now? And try not to worry—it'll just take a little time.”

Gradually the animals dispersed. As the chipmunks were turning to go, Emily said to Tucker and Harry, “Won't you both please come and visit us some time? We live over in the west there—in the cellar of the old farm house.”

“Delighted to,” said Harry Cat. Tucker said nothing.

When everyone had left, Simon Turtle craned his head toward the mouse and said, “Don't be too upset now. That Henry's still a very young chipmunk. They're an emotional breed, too. Always were.”

Tucker Mouse shook his head. “That was the worst thing that ever happened to me. Worse than being trampled on in the subway. I never saw a chipmunk cry before.”

“You never saw a chipmunk before!” said Harry Cat.

“But it was the crying that got me, Harry,” said Tucker. He stamped his foot impatiently. And it was only himself that he was impatient with. “We've
got
to think of something, Harry! We've just got to!”

“Now take it easy, Mousiekins.” Harry Cat put his paw on Tucker's back—but gently this time. “We will.”

FOUR

Ellen

The worried silence in which Harry, Tucker, Chester, and Simon Turtle were sitting was broken by a wild chattering in the elm tree above them. Bill Squirrel had returned to his branch, but now he began jumping around furiously as he shouted down at them, “Watch out! Here comes—”

Before he could finish, the others saw what was coming; a huge Saint Bernard dog bounded over the top of the hill, paused, saw Harry Cat, and charged down on him like a locomotive. It was just at this moment that Tucker learned whether he could swim or not—because Harry, in his sudden fright, knocked his friend over into the brook. It turned out that Tucker
could
swim. He paddled, spluttering, back to the bank just in time to see Harry Cat, who had no escape, take a good claw at the tender nose of the Saint Bernard. The big dog reared back on his hind legs, and Harry—a neat piece of strategy—dashed right between them, up the hill, and up the tree trunk to the safety of a high branch. The dog ran back after him, barking with rage. Two or three times he jumped up as far as he could on the trunk of the elm, but fell back helpless. Harry was well out of reach.

“Nice, peaceful meadow you've got here, Chester!” said Tucker Mouse, as he shook what water he could out of his fur.

“That was
awful!
” said the cricket. “Ellen and the little kids don't usually come over until the afternoon.”

“Who's Ellen?” said Tucker.

“That's her.” Chester pointed up to the top of the hill. A girl had appeared there. With her were four smaller children, two boys and two girls. “The little kids are Nancy, Anne, Jaspar, and John.”

Up on the hill Ellen was scolding the Saint Bernard. “Stop that! Stop that barking, Ruff! Bad dog!—to chase the kitty like that.”

“Bad dog! Bad dog!” One of the little boys joined in the scolding. He made a fist with his right hand, heaved back, and then socked the dog right in the jaw.

“Wow!” said Tucker Mouse. “That little guy better watch what he's doing!”

“It's all right,” said Chester. “The dog belongs to his family. He's Jaspar. Ruff loves him.”

Just as Chester had said, Ruff, the Saint Bernard, seemed to regard Jaspar's sock as no more than a love pat. He leaned over and gave the boy such a sloppy, big kiss that it sent him rolling down the hill. Jaspar enjoyed his rolling, however, and helped it along, aiming himself right toward the bank of the pool.

“Don't you roll in that water, Jaspar!” shouted Ellen.

Jaspar stopped himself on the very brink. He stood up and said glumly, “I never get to do
nothin'!
”

“‘I never get to do
anything,
'” Ellen corrected him. “And you do so! You do everything you shouldn't.” She looked up at Harry sitting on a branch of the tree. “Here, Kittykittykittykitty! Come down—I won't let the big dog hurt you.”

Harry miaowed to her. She didn't understand, of course, but Tucker and Chester did. He was saying, “I think I'll stay right here for a while, thank you.”

“Let's go down to the Special Place,” Ellen said to the smaller children. “That'll give the kitty a chance to come down. Jaspar, you make sure Ruff stays with us.”

“So
stay with us!
” Jaspar shouted at the dog. He lifted one ear and went
“Boo!”
inside it. But Ruff couldn't be made angry. He barked happily at the teasing. With Ellen and the others he went off down the other side of the hill, away from the pool.

Chester and Tucker climbed up the hill and reached the foot of the tree just as Harry was scrambling down. “Well,
that
was an invigorating experience!” said the cat.

“What did the brute say while he was chasing you?” asked Tucker.

“He didn't say anything,” said Harry Cat. “He just barked. I think he's lived around human beings so long he's forgotten how to talk to other animals.”

“Serves him right!” muttered Tucker.

“You aren't hurt, are you, Harry?” said Chester. “He isn't a
bad
dog, really.”

“No, I'm not hurt,” said Harry Cat. “And I know he isn't a bad dog. He's just doing what dogs in Connecticut
do
—which is chase cats. I think it's awfully primitive, though. At least that girl liked me.”

“She's always wanted a cat,” said Chester. “Right over there is where she and her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Hadley, live.” From the top of the hill the animals could see across the road that ran beside the meadow in the east. Opposite them, on the other side, stood a white house with green trim.

“Are they any relation to the man the town is named after?” asked Tucker.

“No. That was Joseph
Hedley,
” said Chester. “Their name is
Hadley.
Ellen is the only one of the big kids that the mothers will let take the little kids over to the meadow. You see, in this neighborhood there are big kids and little kids. The little kids like the meadow, but when they get to be big kids, they usually would rather go off to the school yard and play baseball if they're boys, and if they're girls, they—they—”

“They what?” said Tucker.

“Well, they do whatever girls do!” said Chester. “But Ellen still loves it here, even though she's a big kid by now.”

“How old is she?” said Harry.

“Oh—at least twelve.”

“Mmm!” purred the cat. “Really getting on, isn't she?”

“And the mothers all trust her. So they let her bring the little kids over,” said Chester. “They have a Special Place where they like to sit on the other side of the hill. Come on—I'll show you.”

Silently—Harry was especially quiet, so that Ruff wouldn't notice him—the three of them crept over the hill. There was a glen on the other side, dotted with different kinds of trees. The brook flowed through, on its way to Simon's Pool, and just before it left the hollow, it made a bend around a plot of land where seven birch trees were growing in a circle. The earth was spongy and comfortable between them, covered with soft grass. This was Ellen's Special Place—her favorite spot in all the meadow. She and the four smaller children were sitting there now. Chester, Harry, and Tucker edged up through the shrubs to listen.

“I don't understand,” one of the little girls was saying. “How can it be magic?”

“It just is,” said Ellen. “There's magic all over the meadow. But especially right here.”

“Magic like what witches and wizards have?” asked John, the other little boy.

“No, not that kind,” said Ellen.

“Then it ain't magic!” said Jaspar.

“‘It isn't magic,'” said Ellen. “But it
is!
It's—it's something you
feel,
that's all.”

Everyone was silent a moment and concentrated on feeling as much as he or she could. In one of the birches an oriole sang. Bright patches of sunlight danced around them, filtered through flickering branches and leaves. The brook rustled past them, whispering secrets continuously.

“I feel it,” said the first little girl.

“So do I,” said the second.

“Phooey!” Jaspar gave up on magic and began to wrestle with Ruff. The Saint Bernard let himself be pinned a few times—then he rolled Jaspar over on his stomach and pacified him with one big paw on his back, just the way Harry quieted Tucker Mouse.

“Anyway,” said Jaspar from under the paw, “that magic better work! 'Cause if it doesn't, there isn't going to
be
any meadow! My dad says it'll all be built up in a year.”

Ellen frowned and winced, as if she had been hit on a spot that was already sore. “No, it
won't
be built up!” she said. “That's just talk.”

“What's going to stop them?” said Jaspar.

“I don't know. But something will,” said Ellen. “
Hedley
wouldn't be
Hedley
without the Old Meadow.”

Over in the bushes Tucker whispered to Chester, “She's on our side!”

“I just wish there were more like her,” Chester whispered back.

“Tucker, you've got to come up with something—for her sake, too!” said Harry Cat. He pushed aside a reed to get a better look.

Ellen heard the rustling and saw Harry's whiskered face peeking out. “Shh! No one move,” she said to the children. “There's the kitty. Now I'm going to take you all home—”

“We just got here!” exclaimed Jaspar.

“I know,” said Ellen. “But it's almost lunchtime anyway. And I'll bring you back this afternoon—I promise! I want to come back by myself and see if I can make friends with the kitty. He'll never come out with Ruff and all of you here. Come on now—please.”

She led the children up the hill and over to the edge of the road. “Everyone take hands.” The children fell into formation—two on each side of her—and all took hands. Ellen took a long look up and down the road. “Quick now—over!”

“You, too!” shouted Jaspar at Ruff.

And the six of them, Ruff included, hurried across the road. From there, since there were no more roads to cross, the children could find their way home by themselves. But Ellen came back and sat down again in her Special Place. Sometimes she liked being there alone even more than with the children.

“Here, kitty!” she called. “Come on. I won't hurt you.”

“You made a big hit with her,” said Tucker to Harry Cat.

“I'm going over and say hello,” said Harry. “It'll make her happy.”

“It'll make
you
happy!” said Tucker Mouse disgustedly. “You're just looking for a little free admiration. Mister Kitty!”

Harry padded out over the grass and sat down beside Ellen. “Well,
hello!
” she said, and began stroking Harry's head. “You're a
nice
kitty, aren't you? Yes! You're a
beautiful
kitty!”

Tucker Mouse grimaced at Chester. “I wonder what she'd say if she knew that that ‘beautiful kitty' lived in a drain pipe in the subway station!”

“I don't think it makes any difference where you live,” said Chester. “If you're nice, you're nice. And Harry
is
a nice kitty.”

“Cat! He's a cat!” shouted Tucker Mouse, who was actually a little jealous of all the attention his friend was getting. “Don't use that obnoxious baby talk!” Chester tried not to laugh, and Tucker went on ranting. “Just look at the way he's buttering up to her, arching his head up under her hand like that! And miaowing like a movie star! I never thought I'd see the day!”

Ellen had taken Harry into her lap and was stroking his back from his head all the way down to his tail. And, in fact, Harry Cat
was
enjoying the whole thing very much. With each new stroke he let out a loud purr of pleasure.