03 - The Wild Wood. The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame.

03 - The Wild Wood. The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame.  
This much-loved story follows a group of animal friends in the English countryside as they pursue adventure ... and as adventure pursues them! The chief characters - Mole, Rat, and Toad - generally lead upbeat and happy lives, but their tales are leavened with moments of terror, homesickness, awe, madcap antics, and derring-do.  
Although classed as children's literature, The Wind in the Willows holds a gentle fascination for adults too. 

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in
the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please
visit LibriVox dot org. This recording is by Mark Smith
of Simpsonville, South Carolina. The Wind in the Willows by
Kenneth Grahame, Chapter three, the Wild Wood. The mole had

(00:24):
long wanted to make the acquaintance of the Badger. He seemed,
by all accounts to be such an important personage, and,
though rarely visible, to make his unseen influence felt by
everybody about the place. But whenever the mole mentioned his
wish to the water rat, he always found himself put off.
It's all right, the rat would say, badger'll turn up

(00:48):
some day or other. He's always turning up, and then
I'll introduce you the best of fellows. But you must
not only take him as you find him. But when
you find him, couldn't you asked him here for dinner
or something, said the mole. He wouldn't come, replied the rat,
simply bad you hate society and invitations and dinner and

(01:12):
all that sort of thing. Well, then supposing we go
and call on him, suggested the mole. Oh, I'm sure
he wouldn't like that at all, said the rat, quite alarmed.
He's so very shy, he'd be sure to be offended.
I've never even ventured to call on him his own
home myself, though I know him so well. Besides, we can't.

(01:36):
It's quite out of the question because he lives in
the very middle of the wild wood. Well, supposing he does,
said the mole. You told me the wild wood was
all right, you know. Oh, I know, I know, so
it is, replied the rat evasively. But I think we

(01:56):
won't go there just now, not just yet. It's a
long way, and he wouldn't be at home at this
time of year anyhow, And he'll be coming along Sunday
if he'll wait quietly. The mole had to be content
with this, But the badger never came along, and every
day brought its amusements. And it was not till summer

(02:18):
was long over and cold in frost and miry ways
kept them much indoors, and the swollen river raced past
outside their windows with a speed that mocked at boding
of any sort or kind. That he found his thoughts
dwelling again with much persistence on the solitary gray badger
who lived his own life by himself in his hole

(02:40):
in the middle of the wild wood. In the winter time,
the rat slept a great deal, retiring early and rising late.
During his short day, he sometimes scribbled poetry or did
other small domestic jobs about the house, And of course
there were always animals dropping in for a chat. And
consequently there was a good deal of story telling and

(03:03):
comparing notes on the past summer in all its doings.
Such a rich chapter it had been, when one came
to look back on it, all, with illustrations so numerous
and so very highly colored. The pageant of the river
bank had marched steadily along, unfolding itself in scene pictures
that succeeded each other in stately procession. Purple loose strife

(03:27):
arrived early, shaking, luxuriant tangled locks along the edge of
the mirror. Whence its own face laughed back at it. Willowwerb,
tender and wistful, like a pink sunset cloud, was not
slow to follow. Comphrey. The purple, hand in hand with
a white crept forth to take its place in the line.

(03:47):
And at last, one morning, the diffident and delaying dog
Rows stepped delicately on the stage, and one knew as
if string music had amounced it in stately chords that
strayed into a gavat the June at last was here
one member. The company was still awaited, the shepherd boy
for the nymphs to woo the night, for whom the

(04:08):
ladies waited at the window, the prince that was kissed
the sleeping summer back to life and love. But when meadows, sweet, debonair,
and Odorus and amber Jerkin moved graciously to his place
in the group, then the play was ready to begin.
And what a play it had been. Drowsy animals snug

(04:31):
in their homes while wind and rain were battering at
their doors, recalled still keen mornings an hour before sunrise,
when the white mist, as yet undispersed, clung closely along
the surface of the water. Then the shock of the
early plunge, the scamper along the bank, and the radiant

(04:51):
transformation of earth, air and water. When suddenly the sun
was with them again, and gray was gold, and color
born and sprang out of the earth once more. They
recalled the languorous siesta of hot mid day, deep and
green undergrowth, and sun striking through in tiny golden shafts

(05:12):
and spots, the boating and bathing of the afternoon, the
rambles along dusty lanes and through yellow corn fields, and
the long cool evening at last, when so many threads
were gathered up, so many friendships rounded, and so many
adventures planned for the morrow. There was plenty to talk about.

(05:34):
On those short winter days when the animals found themselves
round the fire. Still, the mole had a good deal
of spare time on his hands, and so one afternoon,
when the rat, in his arm chair before the blaze,
was alternately dozing and trying over rhymes that wouldn't fit,
he formed the resolution to go out by himself and

(05:57):
explore the wild wood and perhaps strike up an acquaintance
with mister Badger. It was a cold, still afternoon with
a hard, steely sky overhead. When he slipped out of
the warm parlor into the open air. The country lay
bare and entirely leafless around him, and he thought that

(06:18):
he'd never seen so far and so intimately into the
insides of things as on that winter day, when nature
was deep in her annual slumber and seemed to have
kicked the clothes off copses, dells, quarries and All hidden
places which had been mysterious minds for exploration in leafy summer,

(06:40):
now exposed themselves and their secrets pathetically, and seemed to
ask him to overlook their shabby poverty for a while,
till they could riot in rich masquerades before and trick
and entice him with the old deceptions. It was pitiful
in a way, and yet cheering, even exhilarating. He was

(07:01):
glad that he liked the country undecorated hard and stripped
of its finery. He had got down to the bare
bones of it, and they were fine and strong and simple.
He did not want the warm clover and the play
of seating grasses, the screens of quick set. The billowy
drapery of beech and elms seemed best away, And with

(07:24):
great cheerfulness of spirit, he pushed on toward the wild wood,
which lay before him, low and threatening, like a black
reef in some still southern sea. There was nothing to
alarm him at first entry. Twigs crackled under his feet,
Logs tripped him. Funguses on stumps resembled caricatures and startled

(07:48):
him for the moment by their likeness to something familiar
and far away. But that was all fun and exciting.
It led him on, and he penetrated to where the
light was less, and trees crouched nearer and nearer, and
holes made ugly mouths at him. On either side. Everything

(08:09):
was very still now. The dusk advanced on him steadily, rapidly,
gathering him behind and before, and the light seemed to
be draining away like flood water. Then the faces began.
It was over his shoulder, and indistinctly that he first

(08:29):
thought he saw a face, a little evil, wedge shaped face,
looking out at him from a hole. Then he turned
and confronted it. The thing had vanished. He quickened his pace,
telling himself cheerfully not to begin imagining things, or there
would be simply no end to it. He passed another hole,

(08:49):
and another, and another, and then yes, no, yes, certainly,
a little narrow face with hard eyes had flashed up
for an instant from a hole and was gone. He hesitated,
braced himself up for an effort, and strode on. Then suddenly,
and as if it had been so all the time,

(09:12):
every hole far and near, and there were hundreds of them,
seemed to possess its face, coming and going rapidly all
fixing on him, glances of malice and hatred, all hard
eyed and evil and sharp. If he could only get
away from the holes in the banks, he thought there
would be no more faces. He swung off the path

(09:35):
and plunged into the untrodden places of the wood. Then
the whistling began. Very faint and shrill it was and
far behind him when first he heard it, but somehow
it made him hurry forward. Then, still very faint and shrill,

(09:56):
it sounded far ahead of him, and made him hesit
and want to go back. As he halted an indecision,
it broke out on either side and seemed to be
caught up, and passed on throughout the whole length of
the wood to its farthest limit. They were up and
alert and ready, evidently, whoever they were, and he he

(10:19):
was alone and unarmed and far from any help, and
the night was closing in. Then the pattering began. He
thought it was only falling leaves at first, so slight
and delicate was the sound of it. Then as it
grew it took a regular rhythm, and he knew it

(10:39):
for nothing else but the pat pat pat of little feet.
Still a very long way off, was it in front
or behind? It seemed to be first one and then
the other, then both. It grew, and it multiplied till
from every quarter. As he listened anxiously, leaning this way
and that, it seemed to be closing in on him.

(11:04):
As he stood still to hearken, a rabbit came running
hard towards him through the trees. He waited, expecting it
to slacken pace or to swerve from him into a
different course. Instead, the animal almost brushed him as it
dashed past, its face set and hard, its eyes staring.
Get out o this, you fool, Get out the mole

(11:26):
heard him mutter as he swung round a stump and
disappeared down a friendly burrow. The pattering increased till it
sounded like sudden hail on the dry leaf carpet spread
around him. The whole wood seemed running now, running hard, hunting, chasing,
closing in round something or somebody. Hymn panic. He began

(11:48):
to run too aimlessly. He knew not whither. He ran
up against things, He fell over things and into things.
He darted under things and dodged round things. At last
he took refuge in the deep, dark hollow of an
old beech tree which offered shelter, concealment, perhaps even safety,

(12:09):
but who could tell Anyhow, He was too tired to
run any farther, and could only snuggle down into the
dry leaves which had drifted into the hollow, and hope
he was safe for a time. And as he lay there,
panting and trembling, and listening to the whistlings and the
patterings outside, he knew it at last, in all its fullness,

(12:32):
that dread thing which other little dwellers in field and
hedgerow had encountered here and known as their darkest moment,
that thing which the rat had vainly tried to shield
him from the terror of the wild wood. Meantime, the rat,
warm and comfortable, dozed by his fireside. His paper of

(12:55):
half finished verses slipped from his knee, his head fell back,
his mouth opened, and he wandered by the verdant banks
of dream rivers. Then a coal slipped, the fire crackled
and sent up a spurt of flame, and he woke
with a start, remembering what he had been engaged upon.
He reached down to the floor for his verses, poured

(13:16):
over them for a minute, and then looked round for
the mole to ask him if he knew a good
rhyme for something or other, but the mole was not there.
He listened for a time. The house seemed very quiet.
Then he called Molly several times, and, receiving no answer,

(13:37):
got up and went out into the hall. The mole's
cap was missing from its accustomed peg. His galoshes, which
always lay by the umbrella stand, were also gone. The
rat left the house and carefully examined the muddy surface
of the ground outside, hoping to find the mole's tracks.
There they were, sure enough. The goloshes were new, just

(14:00):
bought for the winter, and the pimples on their souls
were fresh and sharp. He could see the imprints of
them in the mud. Running along straight and purposeful, leading
direct to the wild wood. The rat looked very grave
and stood in deep thought for a minute or two.
Then he re entered the house, strapped a belt round

(14:22):
his waist, shoved a brace of pistols into it, took
up a stout cudgel that stood in a corner of
the hall, and set off for the wild wood at
a smart pace. It was already getting towards dusk when
he reached the first fringe of trees and plunged without
hesitation into the wood, looking anxiously on either side for

(14:44):
any sign of his friend. Here and there, wicked little
faces popped out of holes, but vanished immediately at sight
of the valorous animal. His pistols and the great ugly
cudgel in his grasp, and the whistling and pattering which
she had heard quite plainly on his first entry, died
away and ceased, and all was very still. He made

(15:09):
his way manfully through the length of the wood to
its farthest edge. Then, forsaking all paths, he set himself
to traverse it, laboriously, working over the whole ground, and
all the time calling out cheerfully, Molly, Molly, Molly, where
are you? It's me, it's old rat. He had patiently

(15:30):
hunted through the wood for an hour or more, when,
at last, to his joy, he heard a little answering cry.
Guiding himself by the sound, he made his way through
the gathering darkness to the foot of an old beech
tree with a hole in it, And from out of
the hole came a feeble voice saying, ready, is that
really you? The rat crept into the hollow, and there

(15:54):
he found the mole, exhausted and still trembling. All rat,
I've been so frightened. You can't think. Oh, I quite understand,
said the rat soothingly. You shouldn't really have gone and
done it, mole. I did my best to keep you

(16:14):
from it. We river bankers, we hardly ever come here
by ourselves. If we have to come, we come in couples.
At least, then we're generally all right. Besides, there are
a hundred things one has to know, which we understand
all about, and you don't as yet. I mean passwords

(16:35):
and signs and sayings which have power and effect, and
plants you carry in your pocket, and verses you repeat,
and dodges and tricks you practice. All simple enough when
you know them. But they've got to be known. If
you're small, or you'll find yourself in trouble. Of course,
if you were badger or otter, it would be quite

(16:58):
another matter. Surely the brave mister toad wouldn't mind coming
here by himself, would he inquired the mole. Old toad,
said the rat, laughing heartily. He wouldn't show his face
here alone, not for a whole hatful of golden guineas
toad wouldn't. The mole was greatly cheered by the sound

(17:20):
of the rat's careless laughter, as well as by the
sight of his stick and his gleaming pistols, and he
stopped shivering and began to feel bolder and more himself again. Now, then,
said the rat, Presently, we really must pull ourselves together
and make a start for home while there's still a
little light left. It will never do to spend the

(17:42):
night here, you understand, too cold for one thing, dear reddy,
said the poor mole. I'm dreadfully sorry, but I'm simply
dead beat, and that's a solid fact. You must let
me rest your a little while longer and get my
strength back if I'm to get home at all. Oh,

(18:02):
all right, said the good natured rat. Rest easy. It's
pretty nearly pitch dark now anyhow, and there ought to
be a bit of a moon later. So the mole
got well into the dry leaves and stretched himself out
and presently dropped off into sleep, though of a broken
and troubled sort, while the rat covered himself up too

(18:25):
as best he might for warmth, and lay patiently waiting
with a pistol in his paw. When at last the
mole woke up, much refreshed and in his usual spirits,
the rat said, now then I'll just take a look
outside and see if everything's quiet, and then we really
must be off. He went to the entrance of their

(18:47):
retreat and put his head out. Then the mole heard
him saying quietly to himself, Hello, Hello, here is a
go what's up, ready, asked the snow is up, replied
the rat briefly, or rather down, it's snowing hard. The

(19:08):
mole came and crouched beside him, and looking out, saw
the wood that had been so dreadful to him in
quite a changed aspect. Holes, hollows, pools, pitfalls, and other
black menaces to the wayfarer were vanishing fast, and a
gleaming carpet of fairy was springing up everywhere that looked
too delicate to be trodden on by rough feet. A

(19:32):
fine powder filled the air and caressed the cheek with
a tingle in its touch, and the black boles of
the trees showed up in a light that seemed to
come from below. Well, well it can't be helped, said
the rat, after pondering, we must make a start and
take our chance. I suppose the worst of it is

(19:53):
I don't exactly know where we are, and now this
snow makes everything look so very different it did. Indeed,
the mole would not have known that it was the
same wood. However, they set out bravely and took the
line that seemed most promising, holding on to each other
and pretending with invincible cheerfulness that they recognized an old

(20:17):
friend in every fresh tree that grimly and silently greeted them,
or saw openings, gaps, or paths with a familiar turn
in them, in the monotony of white space and black
tree trunks that refused to vary. An hour or two later,
they had lost all count of time. They pulled up, dispirited, weary,

(20:39):
and hopelessly at sea, and sat down on a fallen
tree trunk to recover their breath and consider what was
to be done. They were aching with fatigue and bruised
with tumbles. They had fallen into several holes and got
wet through, and the snow was getting so deep they
could hardly drag their little legs through it. And the

(21:00):
trees were thicker and more like each other than ever.
There seemed to be no end to this wood, and
no beginning, and no difference in it, and worst of all,
no way out. We can't sit here very long, said
the rat. We shall have to make another push for
it and do something or other. The cold is too

(21:23):
awful for anything, and the snow will soon be too
deep for us to wade through. He peered around him
and considered. Look here, he went on, This is what
occurs to me. There's a sort of dell down here
in front of us, where the ground seems all hilly
and humpy and hummocky. We'll make our way down into

(21:45):
that and try and find some sort of shelter, a
cave or hole with a dry floor to it, out
of the snow and the wind. And there we'll have
to make a good rest before we try again, For
both of us pretty dead beat. Besides, the snow may
leave off, or something may turn up. So once more

(22:07):
they got on their feet and struggled down into the dell,
where they hunted about for a cave or some corner
that was dry and a protection from the keen wind
and the whirling snow. They were investigating one of the
hummocky bits the rat had spoken of when Suddenly the
mole tripped up and fell forward on his face with

(22:28):
a squeal. Oh my leg, he cried, Oh my poor shin,
And he sat up on the snow and nursed his
leg in both his front paws. Poor old mole, said
the rat kindly. You don't seem to be having much
luck to day, do you. Let's have a look at
the leg. Yes, he went on, going down on his

(22:50):
knees to look. You've cut your shin, sure enough, Wait
till I get at my handkerchief and I'll tie it
up for you. I must have trip looked over a
hidden branch or a stump, said the mole miserably. Oh my, oh, why,
it's a very clean cut, said the rat, examining again attentively.

(23:15):
That was never done by a branch or. A stump
looks as if it was made by the sharp edge
of something metal. Funny, he pondered, awhile, and examined the
humps and slopes that surrounded them. Well, never mind, what
done it, said the mole, forgetting his grammar in his pain.
It hurts just the same, whatever done it? But the rat,

(23:39):
after carefully tying up the leg with his handkerchief, had
left him, and was busily scraping in the snow. He
scratched and shoveled and explored all four legs, working busily
while the mole waited impatiently, remarking at intervals, Oh, come on, rat.
Suddenly the rat cried hooray, and then hooray, Ray, Ray away, ray,

(24:02):
and fell to excating a feeble jig in the snow.
What have you felt, riddy, asked the mole, still nursing
his leg. Come and see, said the delighted rat, as
he jigged on. The mole hoppled up to the spot
and had a good look. Well, he said, at last, slowly,

(24:23):
I see it, right enough, seen the same sort of
thing before lots of times. Familiar object. I call it
a door scraper. Well what of it? Why dad's jigs
around a door scraper. But don't you see what it means,
you dull witted animal, cried the rat impatiently. Of course

(24:47):
I see what it means, replied the mole. It simply
means that someone very careless and forgetful has left his
door scraper lying about in the middle of the wild wood,
just where it's sure to trip everybody up. Very thoughtless
of him, I call it. When I get home, I
shall go and complain about it too, to somebody or other.

(25:10):
See if I don't, Oh dear, oh dear, cried the rat,
in despair at his obtuseness. Here, stop arguing and come
and scrape. And he set to work again and made
the snow fly in all directions around him. After some
further toil, his efforts were rewarded, and a very shabby

(25:31):
doormat lay exposed to view. There. What did I tell you,
exclaimed the rat in great triumph. Absolutely nothing whatever, replied
the mall with perfect truthfulness. Well, now, he went on,
you seem to have found another piece of domestic litter
done for and thrown away. And I suppose you're perfectly happy.

(25:55):
Better go ahead and dance your jig round that if
you've got to, and get it over, and then perhaps
we can go on and not waste any more time
over rubbish heaps. Can we eat a doormat, or sleep
under a doormat, or sit on a doormat and sledge
home over the snow on it? You exasperating wrote it?

(26:16):
Do you mean to say? Cried the excited rat, that
this doormat doesn't tell you something, really, rat, said the mall,
quite pettishly. I don't think we'd had enough of this folly.
Whoever heard of a doormat telling anybody anything? They simply
don't do it. They are not that sort at all.

(26:38):
Doormats know their place. Now look here, you thick headed beast,
replied the rat, really angry. This must stop, not another word,
but scrape, scrape and scratch and dig and hot around,
especially on the sides of the hummocks, if you want
to sleep dry and warm tonight, for it's our last chance. Yes,

(27:01):
the rat attacked a snowbank beside them with ardor, probing
with his cudgel everywhere, and then digging with fury, and
the mole scraped busily too, more to oblige the rat
than for any other reason. For his opinion was that
his friend was getting light headed. Some ten minutes hard work,

(27:21):
and the point of the rat's cudgel struck something that
sounded hollow. He worked till he could get a paw
through and feel, then called the mole to come and
help him. Hard at it went the two animals till
at last the results of their labor stood full in
view of the astonished and hitherto incredulous mole. In the

(27:42):
side of what had seemed to be a snow bank
stood a solid looking little door painted a dark green.
An iron bell pull hung by the side, and below
it on a small brass plate neatly engraved in square
capital letters they could read by the aid of moonlight.
Mister Badger, the mall fell backwards on the snow from

(28:03):
sheer surprise and delight rot he cried in penitence. You're
a wonder, a real wonder, that's what you are. I
can see it all now. You argued it out step
by step in that wisehead of yours, from the very
moment that I fell and caught my chin. And you
looked at the cot and once your majestic mind said

(28:26):
to itself door scraper. And then you turned to and
found the very door scraper that done it. Did you
stop there? No, Some people would have been quite satisfied,
but not you. Your intellect went on working. Let me only
just find a doormat, says you to yourself. And my

(28:46):
theory is proved. And of course you found your doormat.
You are so clever. I believe you could find anything
you liked. Now, says you, that door exists as plain
as if I saw. There's nothing else remains to be
done but to find it. Well. I've read about that
sort of thing in books, but I've never come across

(29:09):
it before in real life. You ought to go where
you're properly appreciated. You are simply wasted here among us fellows.
If I only had your head, ratty. But as you
haven't interrupted, the rat rather unkindly, I suppose you're gonna
sit on the snow all night and talk. Get up
at once and hang on that bell pool you see there,

(29:31):
and ring hard as hard as you can while I hammer.
While the rat attacked the door with a stick, the
mules sprang up at the bell pool, clutched it, and
swung there, both feet well off the ground, and from
quite a long way off they could faintly hear a
deep toned bell respond. The end of chapter three