Part 4

Many odd bits of floating things passed him, but at last came a round bit of branch broken from some tree, and it stuck in the narrow channel between the big stone and the next one. It was so unsteady, though, that Anthony Ant strapped both his lunch basket and his dressing case to his belt before crossing the wobbly bridge, and he nearly fell off three times before the trip across was made. There was a shallow place beyond this next stone, and he found he could get around it and over the shallowest parts of it on stones and gravel that partly choked the brook there. One more deep place stood between him and the bank, and then a willow branch bobbed in the breeze and brushed the stone upon which he stood. The next time it bobbed down he took firm hold of it and pulled himself up. The remainder of the journey was easy, for there is nothing easier for a smooth pathway for Ants than willow branches, and on this fine floorway Anthony Ant climbed into the tree and down its trunk to the ground.

[Illustration: _He nearly fell off three times before the trip across was made_]

Another cheerful thing happened then, for he spied a bush near the willow tree. On the bush a number of large black Ants were trying to take home a large Bug they had killed. Maybe you never heard of it, but there is a law among Ants that any Bug, whoever kills it, belongs to as many Ants as can get any of it. So Anthony Ant felt he had as much right to some of the Bug as they had, and he boldly marched up to get a piece.

It was such a good Bug that none of the black Ants wanted to lose a morsel of it, and they boxed Anthony Ant’s ears and bit at him and said things to him that no polite Ant would say whether he were a black Ant or a red one. But Anthony was brave and spry in spite of his bruises, and he skipped in between the Ants and dodged their cuffings so well that he managed to pull off a large piece of Bug--enough for several meals. Without waiting to hear any of their rude remarks, he ran with it down the bush and hid behind a rock, where he rested and took the time to break the Bug into pieces of a size to fit into his basket. It gave him a comfortable feeling to know that his lunch basket once more was as heavy as it had been when he first left home.

There was no woods on this side of the brook in this spot, but an open field of short grass. It would be a good change from dark thick trees, he thought, and much more cheerful, and after lunch he started off toward the right, and left the brook behind him. He might meet adventures in the middle of the field, he thought.

Long before he reached the middle of the field, however, an Ant Venture happened, for as he pressed forward through a dense part of the grass he came suddenly upon a large hole--a vast cave it seemed to him--and over the cave was a sign which said:

MOLESWORTH DEEP MINING COMPANY, LIMITED

AT MOLESWORTH HALL

Anthony Ant sat down on a small pebble to think about that sign and what it might mean. Was it a sort of side-show cave in there, or was it a real mine that went down into the black, dark earth farther than any Ants ever had dug? Whichever it was, it was a strange thing to come across here in the field. He thought he would wait and see if there were any signs of life about the place.

There were! The signs of life came all too soon. Something pushed him off the pebble so suddenly that he did not know what it was. It was large and soft and dark. He knew that much about how it first seemed. In a second he was standing on all his feet and looking to see what the thing was.

“What’s the matter? Were you looking for a job?” came a deep, soft voice.

“No, sir,” replied Anthony Ant, looking up at what the voice seemed to come from. Before him was a velvety creature like a mouse, maybe, all but its head and nose and eyes, and sort of different about its feet. “I was just thinking about that sign and what it might mean.”

“I’ll tell you that free of charge,” said the voice. “There you see one of the most wonderful mines in the whole world. I live there, and I helped make it, so I ought to know.”

“What do you get out of it?” asked Anthony Ant, for he had seen pictures in the books at home about mines and had heard how gold, and iron, and coal, and that sort of thing came out of them.

“Why,” answered the voice, “I get a home out of it. What more should you want, I’d like to know? If you mean what do I bring out of it, I bring out or push out the earth. I am teaching the little ones how to do it now, so they can be smart when they grow up. They are quick to learn and know so much that I have just put up that sign.”

“But if it is not a real mine where you get metals or minerals to sell, why should you need a sign?” asked the Ant.

“Well,” said the soft, deep voice, “it looks stylish, I think. I don’t know of any other reason.”

“But you haven’t any eyes, have you?” questioned the Ant. “I can’t see any, at least not from here. So how do you know it looks stylish?”

Then the little creature put his head down near Anthony Ant, and showed him such bright little eyes where they did not show much that the brightness made Anthony blink.

[Illustration: _“I am a Mole,” said a soft, deep voice_]

“I am a Mole,” said that soft, deep voice, “and I am not so blind as the world thinks. I never could have made so fine a place as Molesworth Hall if I had been really blind, you know. Now, could I?”

“I should be better able to answer that question if I had seen your home inside, but all I’ve seen is the entrance,” replied the Ant.

“That’s so,” said the Mole.

“But,” asked Anthony, “what do you have the word ‘LIMITED’ on your sign for?”

“It seems to be the style with some big advertisers in the newspapers,” answered the Mole. “That’s the only reason, for when you come right down to the matter there is nothing limited about my home. I could make my halls as big as I chose if I wanted to work long enough. I could tunnel across the whole field if I wished, but ‘LIMITED’ looks stylish and grand on a sign, I think.”

“But were you expecting others to dig in your mines?” asked Anthony. “You asked me if I was looking for a job, you know.”

“Of course I did,” said Mr. Mole. “Everyone worth while has a job of some sort, and you looked worth while. But you were sitting doing nothing when I found you, so I thought you were out of luck and had lost your job, whatever it was. Though you are pretty small, I could give you something to do to earn your supper at least.”

“But I have my supper in my lunch basket,” said Anthony.

“Let me see it,” demanded Mr. Mole. So the Ant opened his basket.

“Now, look here,” said the Mole, “there isn’t a thing in here that won’t keep all right for tomorrow. So keep it for tomorrow if you are wise, and just buck up--as they say in the newspapers I find blown into this field sometimes--buck up, I say, and be a man, and do a few hours’ work for me, and earn your supper. Save that lunch for the tomorrow that may find you hard up for food that is not always to be had for the wishing.”

“Very well,” agreed the Ant, “and thank you. What is the work?”

“We are running a short gallery through a little section of Molesworth Hall,” said Mr. Mole, “and, though you are small and cannot carry much at a time, the short gallery is near the entrance and you won’t have far to tramp. You look like a good digger, and the earth is soft. Even if you won’t be much of a help to me, I’m glad to offer you a good supper for what you carry out before then.”

“All right,” said the Ant, and followed the Mole into the cave.

Inside, he met Mrs. Mole and the little Moles, and they were kind to him and showed him the wonderful passageways of Molesworth Hall. Then they scurried off to their work, and the Ant began to labor where he was taken by Mr. Mole.

Now Anthony Ant was too battered and sore to feel much like working. He felt lame all over, and the bumps and bruises were pretty bad. But it would never do to let Mr. Mole think him somebody not worth while, so he never rested once from the time he started. Mr. Mole, who, unknown to Anthony Ant, was watching him all the time from around the corner of the main passage, and who had guessed that the Ant had run away from a good home for some foolish reason, had to smile to see how plucky the little chap was.

It was a pretty weary Ant that took out his last load that night and then washed up outside the cave. The dew was already on the grass, and the cool wetness of it felt good when he washed his face and all his hands. When he was clean enough to suit himself, he went in and found Mr. and Mrs. Mole and the little Moles eating supper. They helped him to bits of roots Mrs. Mole had prepared some way or other, and a sip of herb tea rested him a lot. They told him he was welcome to stay all night too, but he thanked them and said he thought he would go a little farther on his way. So they went to the door with him and said good night in their soft, deep voices, and wished him luck, and the last they saw of him, he was looking back and waving. The last he saw of them, they made a happy, contented family picture as they all stood together in the doorway of the MOLESWORTH DEEP-MINING COMPANY, LIMITED.

A VENTURE WITH A PASS

Poor, tired Anthony Ant did not get so far away from Molesworth Hall that night as he thought he would before stopping to sleep, and when he finally did stop he had a most terrible night.

At first he walked as far as he thought he ought to for the time, and looked about for a something or other that might make a good bed. There was a fine little clump of sweet fern, and he thought he would tuck himself up in one of the fragrant leaves of it where he ought to rest happily and safely all night. He unstrapped his dressing case and lunch basket and hunted up his toothbrush, and with the dew and his Marsh-Mint Dental Cream he brushed his teeth as carefully as though his mother were there to see him. You know that any Ant that never forgets to brush his teeth with dew and Marsh-Mint Dental Cream night and morning will not have to go to the dentist for many a day. He had learned it was always safer to hang on to his things, so he took good care to have them where he could grab the handles of basket and case in a hurry. Then he climbed into a dry leaf of sweet fern near the ground.

Now, in the field there was a fine band concert going on. All the zoomers, and the buzzoons, and the zippers, and the drummerinos, and flutes, and zingers, and violins, and the other instruments were going hard and fast. Such a grand lullaby you never heard before, and the moonlight was enough to make any Fairy that ever lived in a fairy ring want to get out there and dance to the music. Anthony Ant thought he was going to have a fine sleep, and was just closing his eyes for the next to the last blink before really dropping to sleep, when something moved near him and made him grab his things and run away trembling for all he was worth. Maybe it was not a thing that would hurt him at all, but he thought it was and he would not look back to see what the thing was that moved.

Then he crawled under a dry leaf on the ground. He had slept safely enough under dry leaves before, and now his heart stopped beating so hard. He was about to sleep after all, when some night creature of the field stepped on the edge of the leaf and pinched poor Anthony so hard he had to squeal in spite of himself. The creature passed on, but Anthony Ant got out from under that leaf as fast as ever he could.

After standing as long as he could on his tired feet, he sat down on a tiny stick and leaned back against the stem of a weed. Anything might come along and step on him, and that very instant he had to dodge, for a Bat swooped down too near the ground in his mad fluttering in the air, knocked the stem of the weed flat with his big wing, and scared the Ant more than ever.

Shaking with fright, the Ant hid under the edge of a big stone and did not dare to move. If he were only at home now in Ant-Hill Manor where always there was a little night-light burning in an outer gallery so that little Ants that woke up in the night were not frightened when they saw the light, but knew they were safe at home all right! The moonlight was bright, to be sure, but out here in the big world it was too bright, and too blue-iferous, if you know what that word means. This blue-iferousness made such awful shadows of things that might catch you if they saw you. He was too scared now ever to sleep that night, he knew.

So he huddled himself into a forlorn little ball near the outer edge of the stone, for he did not know what might be back under it, and there he stayed, and listened to every horrible, creepy sound, and watched every scary, moving shadow until all at once a nice smooth voice said, “Why, you poor little thing! What is the matter?”

The Ant saw that what he had thought was a goblin shadow, or something more than just plain awful and horrible Night, was one of those soothing August Croakers he had heard at the band concert near the brook. The pale green insect was resting awhile on a grass stalk.

“O sir,” answered Anthony Ant, “the Night is a terrible thing! I am so scared my teeth just won’t keep from clattering together. Hear them?”

“Oh, yes, I hear them all right,” said the August Croaker. “I have been listening for some time till I could be sure what made the funny noise. Then I found it was your teeth. Now, look here! There never was anything more wonderful than Night in all the world, and never will be. It can’t hurt you a bit, but because nobody who is as afraid as you are, ever can be reasoned into thinking so, I will give you a pass to keep in sight wherever you go.”

“What is that?” asked Anthony.

“Here it is,” said the August Croaker, holding out a slip of grass blade with queer marks on it. “A pass is something that you show and it takes you in free at a show. Now Night is a wonderful show. This is a pass to carry with you, and it will take you safely through any hour of the Night without letting a thing hurt you. It makes you go free of scares, you see. So long as you keep it in plain sight, you are all right. Try it.”

“Oh, thank you!” cried Anthony Ant, as he fastened the pass under the strap of his dressing case. And the minute the pass was in place he felt as brave as a large Lion, Size Eighty-one.

“Now,” said the August Croaker, “lie right down where you are. Even if there should be a whole menagerie behind you in the shadows of the stone, not a thing can hurt you. The words on the pass will see to that. Go to sleep now while I sing you my best lullaby on the G string.” And he began a soft “G,G,G,G,G,G,G,” with a sort of trill in it, that was most soothing.

“What are the words on the pass?” asked Anthony Ant sleepily.

“They are written in Japanese style, sort of,” said the August Croaker. “That is, you have to read them up and down instead of across, and they say:

+--------------------------+ | T A T F | | H N H R | | I T R E | | S H O E | | O U | | I N G F | | S Y H R | | O | | T A A M | | O N N | | T Y H | | P A | | A N R | | S I M | | S G | | H | | T | +--------------------------+

AN ANT VENTURE IN GOING UP

“Oh, my, but what a lovely dream I had!” cried the Ant the next morning as he woke up bright and early. He thought he was still talking to the August Croaker, but found he was alone after all, as the August Croaker had gone off to take his sleep because he was on night duty, you see, every night.

There was the pass, anyway, Anthony Ant saw as he gathered his things together and came out from under the stone. He took his morning bath in dewdrops, and, smelling sweet from the scent of the Marsh-Mint Dental Cream and the Meadow-Scent Soap, he perched himself on a low grass blade and ate some of the luncheon in his basket. As he intended taking a long tramp on his way that morning, he even ate a small piece of the Bug he had run away with, for, though at home he did not eat meat for breakfast, he knew that for a long, hard tramp there was nothing like meat to give one strength.

Then, when all ready for the march, he looked at the sun to be sure he was starting in the right pathway, and off he went over a blade and under a blade; over a stone and across a plain space; and under a stick; and up a weed; and down a branch of the weed to another weed; and on to a daisy and down the daisy; and along a leaf to the tip; and over to a clover stem; and up the clover stem; and over to a high grass; and along the high grass to a bush; and down the bush to the ground; and along the ground to a rock; and up the rock and over the rock and down the rock; and across a dandelion; and up a burdock; and on to a big bowlder and over the big bowlder and down the big bowlder; and up a high goldenrod to the top; and over to another goldenrod top; and down that goldenrod stem to the ground; and along the ground to a berry bush. My, but that was a long tramp to take without a rest between times!

As long a tramp as that was, he was not too tired to climb the bush when all at once he saw a berry above his head, high up ever so far. Up he went hard and fast, for nothing would taste so good that very minute as some berry juice, he thought. So up the bush went Anthony Ant of Ant-Hill Manor until he came to the branch that had the berry on it--and, oh me, oh my! Sometimes things are better than they seem to be, just as sometimes things are not so bad as they look. Why! Not only was there one berry on that branch, but under some leaves, hidden from his first glance, were more berries--just loads of them--and they were even more juicy than the berry he went up the bush to get!

Well, sir, Anthony Ant danced a jig of joy on a leaf before he tasted a berry at all. Then he sat down--where do you think?--not near a berry--no, sir-ee!--but on it, for the berry was a large, fat blackberry with plenty of room on top for more than one Ant. He was the only one there, so all the room was his. All he had to do was to sit there on the firm, smooth, warm berry heated from the sun to the very core, and bite into one of the pulpy balls that covered the seeds of the berry. So up he climbed to the top of the berry, and, for fear he might lose his things, he strapped them to his belt instead of setting them down anywhere. A lucky thing it was, for no sooner had he begun to bite into the berry, and to think how lovely that juice was, than all at once something pounced down to the bush while he had his nose to the berry and could not look up so well. The next thing he knew, he was being carried through the air at a great rate--berry and all--until he was plumped down upon the wide branch of a great tree ever so far away from the berry bush.

If the Ant had been scared by such a harmless thing as Night, he was about twenty million more times scared now that this thing had happened to him. Besides, whatever it was that had carried him to the tree had so nipped into the berry that the juice had spattered all over poor Anthony Ant, and he was sticky from head to foot. However, he stayed perfectly still without moving the fraction of an inch. He was afraid the thing that had carried him there would eat him if he so much as wiggled a feeler.

[Illustration: _The Robin was wondering what to do about Anthony Ant_]

After what seemed to him a long time he opened one eye he had closed, and there he saw a large Robin looking at him. Now, Robins like Worms, but they do not care for Ants, and the Robin was wondering what to do about Anthony Ant. Just now berry was the taste he was after, and here was Mr. Ant in the way.

Anthony Ant saw that look in the Robin’s eye, so he knew it was time to move. As fast as he could, he jumped off the berry and ran back under a piece of loose bark on the tree where he was safe from Robins, anyway.