Chapter 1 The Riverbank.
The Mole had been working very hard all the morning spring cleaning, first with brooms, then with dusters, then on ladders and steps and chairs, till he had dust in his throat and eyes and an aching back and weary arms—.
Spring was moving in the air above, and in the air below, and around him even his dark and lowly little house.
It was small wonder then that he suddenly flung down his brush on the floor, said no more spring cleaning and bolted out of the house without even waiting to put on his coat.
Something above was calling him.
So he scraped and scraped and scratched and scraped, working busily with his little paws and muttering Up, we go up, we go till, at last pop.
His snout came out into the sunlight and he found himself rolling in the warm grass of a green meadow.
The sunshine struck hot on his fur, and soft breezes soothed his heated brow.
He rambled busily through the meadows.
Birds were building nests, flowers were budding, everything was happy.
His happiness was complete when suddenly he stood by the edge of a river.
He had never seen a river before.
It was chasing and chuckling, gripping things with a gurgle and leaving them with a laugh.
The mole was delighted.
He sat on the bank while the river chattered to him.
It was the finest sound he had ever heard.
A dark hole in the riverbank opposite caught his eye.
As he gazed, something bright and small seemed to twinkle in the heart of it like a tiny star.
Then, as he looked, it winked at him.
It was an eye.
A small face gradually began to grow around it, a little brown face with whiskers.
It had small, neat ears and thick, silky hair.
It was the water rat.
Hello, mole, said the water rat.
Hello, rat, said the mole.
The rat stepped onto a little boat that the mole had not observed and It was painted blue outside and white within and was just the size for two animals.
Mole's whole heart went out to it at once.
The rat rode across smartly.
Then he held up his forepaw as the mole stepped gingerly down.
Lean on that, he said.
Now then, step lively. and the mole, to his surprise, found himself seated in a real boat.
This has been a wonderful day, said he as the rat shoved off.
I've never been in a boat before.
What? cried the rat, open-mouthed.
Never?
Been?
You?
Never?
Well, I... What have you been doing, then?
Is it so nice as all that? asked the Mole shyly.
Nice, it's the only thing, said the Water Rat dreamily.
Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing, absolutely nothing, hath so much fun as being in a boat.
Absorbed in his new life in the sparkle, the ripple, the scents, the sounds and the sunlight.
The mole trailed upon the water and daydreamed.
I beg your pardon, said the mole, pulling himself together with an effort.
You must think me very rude, but all this is so new to me, so this is a river.
"'The river,' corrected the rat.
"'And you really live by the river?
"'What a jolly life!
"'What lies over there?' asked the mole, "'waving a paw toward a background of dark trees on one side of the river.
"'That's just the wild wood,' said the rat shortly.
"'We don't go there very much.
"'We river bankers.'
"'Aren't they very nice people in there?' said the Mole a bit nervously.
"'Well,' replied the Rat, "'let me see.
'The squirrels are all right, but the rabbits are a mixed lot?
'and then there's Badger, of course.
"'Nobody interferes with him.
"'They had better not.' he said significantly.
And, of course, there are others, continued the rat in a hesitating, sore way.
Weasels and stoats and foxes and so on.
They're all right, in a way, but there's no denying it.
Well, you can't really trust them, and that's the fact.
The mole knew well that an animal with good manners does not dwell on possible trouble ahead, so he dropped the subject.
And beyond the wildwood the mole asked.
It looks all blue and dim and one sees what may be hills and something like the smoke of towns.
Or is it only a cloud drift?
Beyond the wildwood comes the human world, said the rat, and that's something that doesn't matter either to you or to me.
I've never been there, and I'm never going.
Or you, either, if you've got any sense.
Now then, we're going to lunch.
The rat brought the boat alongside the bank, tied it up, helped awkward Mole safely ashore and swung out the picnic basket.
The Mole begged to be allowed to unpack it all by himself.
He took out all the mysterious packets, one by one, and arranged their contents, gasping oh my, oh my at each fresh surprise.
When all was ready, the rat said now dig in old fellow.
And the Mole was very glad to obey, for he had started his spring cleaning at a very early hour and was now quite hungry.
