“Good afternoon,” said Mr. Lobster. “I am ready.”
“Ready?” The sculpin blinked a large eye. That is, he rolled it unpleasantly, which is the same as blinking for a sculpin. “Ready for what?”
“If you will tell me the way, I should like to go up the river with the tide. I have no knowledge of traveling with the tide, and I want to try it. Also, I am sure the river must go to the land, and I want to see the land.”
“If you take my advice, though you look a great deal too old to take anybody’s advice, I must say, you will keep strictly away from the land.” The sculpin said this in a very decided tone.
“Why?” asked Mr. Lobster.
“The land, as you would know if you had had experience, is a dry area. It would be exceedingly unfortunate for you if you should be left there.”
“Thank you,” said Mr. Lobster. “But I have no intention of remaining on land to be dried up.”
“Very few people dry up intentionally,” said the sculpin in his coldest tone. “However, permit me to say that there are such things as accidents.” The sculpin raised up his horns and then scratched himself with one fin and looked as dignified as possible immediately after the scratching was finished. He knew that it really was not dignified to itch, of course. “Anyway,” he said, “if you knew anything about the tides, you would know that the tide goes in about an hour later each day. It is arranged that way so that we do not have to hurry. We are on time even if we are late. But you are early.”
“I am very careful,” said Mr. Lobster. “So I go slowly.”
“Then go slowly in the direction of the north,” said the sculpin. “When you come to a place where there is mud on the sand, you will be where the river comes out into the Ocean. You will feel the tide when it goes in. At present, I am going to take a short nap, and you have disturbed me.”
“That is too bad,” said Mr. Lobster.
“And don’t go near the land. Remember that under your shell you are at heart a fish!” And with these wise words the sculpin fell asleep.
Mr. Lobster traveled very carefully until he came to the place where there was mud on the sand, mud that was brought out by the river when it rained far up in the country. Once he saw a shadow and had to squddle in the sand and try to look like nothing worth eating, but the shadow was made only by a big boat going over his head; so nothing unpleasant happened. Still, it made Mr. Lobster tremble a little, and the joints in his tail felt shaky.
Once he had to hurry for two or three minutes in order to catch up with a pleasant creature, a small sand-dab which tasted delicious.
He had to wait for a short time for the tide to start flowing in, but soon he felt the gentle movement of the water, and he began to swim along with it. It was easy, much easier, in fact, than any other traveling he had ever done; and he enjoyed it very much. He began to think with pleasure of what he was going to see when he got up the river and right near the land.
A great many fish were going with the tide, mostly sculpins and flounders. But there were also some perch, and Mr. Lobster saw one cod-fish with long chin-whiskers, and two very large skates. They were strangers to him; so he did not stop to speak with them. He was too busy wondering what was going to happen to him to stop to make new acquaintances.
When he was finally in the river the tide grew stronger and stronger, and he traveled at a fine rate of speed.
He said to himself: “I guess this is some speed for a lobster. At least four miles an hour. Probably it is a record achievement.” Of course, this pleased him, but he reminded himself: “I must not be reckless.”
So he slowed up and swam in under the bank of the river where the tide was not so strong. He knew that he was very near dry land, and he wondered how he could see the land without too much danger. Perhaps he could even explore the land. It was a perilous thought, and he recalled the sculpin’s warning.
“All my life,” he said to himself, “I have been curious. That is why I know so much now. And I have wanted to see the land, and I must do it.”
So he went along slowly, looking for a place where he could crawl up the bank of the river, put his eyes out of water, and look around. And suddenly, as he was looking at the bottom of the river, he saw a pleasing thing. It was a large clam without any shell, all ready to be eaten and lying still on the river bottom.
“Now I understand why the sculpin comes up this river,” he said to himself. “Here clams grow without shells, and everybody knows that a clam-shell is just a nuisance.”
But before he could swim over and take the clam a large flounder same scuttling past him, raising a great deal of sand like a cloud of dust, and greedily gobbled up the clam. Immediately the flounder went rapidly upwards and disappeared with a splash. And in a minute down came another clam without any shell and rested on the bottom right where the first one had been.
Mr. Lobster was wise enough to know that such clams must be different from the ones he had eaten. At the present moment he had no desire to go upwards for good. But he still wanted to see the land; so he took the clam very carefully in one claw, not trying to eat it, but just holding it to see what would happen.
And what happened was surprising, indeed. The clam gave a jump, which Mr. Lobster knew was very uncommon behavior for a clam, and Mr. Lobster found himself going up just as the flounder had gone, and going so fast that his feelers were bent backwards, and he almost lost his breath.
He almost forgot what to do next, thinking that his last hour had come. But when he jumped right out of water and suddenly saw the land right in front of him, he opened his claws in amazement, dropping the clam; and he fell back on top of the water with a tremendous splash which shook every joint in his shell.
There he lay, floating on the surface of the river, looking all around, trying to gather his wits together, and at the same time holding his tail all ready to give a good snap which would send him safely down to the bottom again if there was danger.
“Well!” exclaimed a hearty voice. “Well, indeed! I have never seen anything like you in this river before. For goodness’ sake, what are you?”
Mr. Lobster jumped at that voice, and very nearly snapped his tail and disappeared right then and there. But he was too curious really to do that. He had to look around first. And when he looked around, there, sitting on the bank of the river, was such a creature as he had never seen in his life before, evidently a land creature. And right beside the creature lay the greedy flounder that had just gone upward so fast. Mr. Lobster also saw the land and the sky, but for the moment all his attention was on the creature who had spoken.
Mr. Lobster decided to answer.
“I am Mr. Lobster,” he replied courteously.
“You don’t say!” exclaimed the creature. “I have always wanted to see a lobster, and what a joke on me nearly to catch one.”
“Did you say joke?” It didn’t sound like a joke to Mr. Lobster to be caught.
“Of course. Anything that doesn’t work must be considered a joke. Then there are no hard feelings.”
“I see,” said Mr. Lobster, although he was not so sure that he did see.
“You know,” the creature was saying, “you must be the largest lobster in the world.”
“Probably I am,” replied Mr. Lobster with all modesty. “I am sixty-eight years old. That is rather unusual, you know.”
“I am sorry, but I didn’t know,” said the creature.
“What I should like to know,” said Mr. Lobster, “is who are you? Are you a land creature?”
“I am different things.”
“I beg your pardon!” Mr. Lobster exclaimed. “Did you say—”
“Oh, yes, I am several different things. Thank goodness I don’t have to be the same thing all the time as most creatures do. It all depends on where I am. In some places I am a bandicoot, in others a rock wallaby. At my very fiercest I am a brock. Here I am a badger.”
As he said it, the creature smiled very pleasantly. He was not such a very bi
g creature, and not such a very small creature; and he had grayish fur and a short tail and looked very strong. And his eyes were exceedingly bright and mischievous.
“What do you look like when you are a bandicoot?” asked Mr. Lobster.
“Why, I look just the same. Only I am a bandicoot instead of a badger.”
“Oh.” Mr. Lobster was disappointed. He was going to ask the badger to change into a bandicoot.
“You may call me Mr. Badger today,” said the creature. “And by the way, I very nearly caught you. I did catch a fine flounder, although he is flat just like all the rest of them.”
“But all flounders are flat,” said Mr. Lobster.
“I know it. I know it. But I would like to catch one that isn’t, just the same. That would be accomplishing something.”
“Did you place the clams without shells on the bottom of the river?” asked Mr. Lobster. At the same time he gave a very gentle tail-snap and went backwards a bit. He wasn’t sure what Mr. Badger would do next.
“Yes,” said Mr. Badger. “I placed the clams there. I am fishing for my dinner today. It is a good joke on the fish, isn’t it? But don’t be afraid, I beg of you. I can see that you are a very rare creature. And I am the only badger this side of the Mississippi River, which makes me exceedingly rare in these parts. That’s why I stay here. I wouldn’t live where I was common. You know, speaking of us two rare creatures, birds of a feather should flock together.”
“Birds?” asked Mr. Lobster, who was having a hard time understanding Mr. Badger.
“Yes, of course.”
“I don’t see any birds,” said Mr. Lobster.
“Look over by the cliff. Do you see those white things in the air?” Mr. Badger pointed a paw with long claws in it.
“Yes, I see them,” Mr. Lobster answered.
“Well, those are birds, and they are flying.”
“Oh,” said Mr. Lobster. “I understand that. I have heard something about birds. But I can’t see that it makes any difference whether they flock together or not. I really don’t.”
Mr. Badger was laughing. “Please excuse me,” he said. “I am never serious. What I meant was that you and I are both very rare, and that therefore we should be good friends. Of course, we haven’t really got any feathers, I am glad to say. Fur is bad enough this summer weather.”
“Oh, no,” agreed Mr. Lobster.
“Though I shouldn’t mind flying,” Mr. Badger added. “It might be cooling.”
“It is very comfortable in the water,” said Mr. Lobster.
“Oh, no, thank you. I could never stand it there. It’s over my head, you see.”
Mr. Badger chuckled pleasantly over his own joke. Mr. Lobster wanted to be polite, but he didn’t see anything funny about it. So he didn’t even smile, but he did snap his tail gently and come in near shore.
“What I should like to know,” said Mr. Badger almost seriously, “is why, when you have the whole ocean to live in, you come up this little river. Certainly you are not so foolish as these flounders.”
“Hardly,” answered Mr. Lobster with some pride. “I travel for pleasure, it being my special pleasure to satisfy my curiosity. In other words, I travel to gain knowledge. I like to think that is one of the great aims of my life.”
“Really! Well, I travel only for pleasure, too. That’s why I never go anywhere at all.”
“You don’t say!” gasped Mr. Lobster. “How can that be?”
“I hate traveling,” said Mr. Badger.
Mr. Lobster thought this over for a few minutes, but he couldn’t see how Mr. Badger traveled only for pleasure and yet hated to travel. He felt confused. He took in a great gulp of clear salt water to refresh his brain, and moved his claws and his tail to see if everything was all right. The wisest thing to do, it seemed to Mr. Lobster, was to change the subject.
“I came in here,” he said to Mr. Badger, “because I am curious to know about the land. I have always lived at the bottom of the Ocean.”
“What! At the bottom of the Ocean for sixty-eight years! Why, you ought to come ashore this very minute!” exclaimed Mr. Badger. “Imagine staying at the bottom of the Ocean sixty-eight years. It’s a wonder you are not so rusty you won’t work.” Mr. Badger chuckled.
“I am not sure about that,” said Mr. Lobster, who again did not quite understand what Mr. Badger was laughing at. “At any rate, you see I hesitate about coming ashore. I might dry up, and that would be the end of me—though I do want to see the land.”
“You could try it a little at a time,” said Mr. Badger. “A few minutes today, a few more minutes tomorrow. That is how animals learn to go in the water. You can do anything if you only practice, anything but flying and living without anything to eat.”
“Oh, could I?”
“Certainly. Why, I once saw a mouse swim a hundred feet with very little practice.”
Again Mr. Lobster did not understand.
“What is a mouse?” he asked.
“Let me see.” Mr. Badger thought very hard. “A mouse is a very hard thing to explain,” he said. “In fact, there is no explanation. A mouse is simply a small squeak with a long tail.”
“Oh.” Mr. Lobster didn’t know any more than he had before. He knew what a long tail was, but he had never seen a squeak.
“The squeak,” went on Mr. Badger, “is his sound. But a mouse is insignificant, anyway. And not at all rare, like us. I have eaten quite a few, and I know. But do come ashore. You can go back into the water the instant you want to.”
Mr. Lobster swam over to the bank and looked up. His tail joints were shaky with nervousness and excitement. He knew that now he was beginning a real adventure. But the bank was just too high.
“I can’t climb it,” he said.
Mr. Badger looked over.
“I have only a short tail, I am glad to say. Not one of those common ones which drag on the ground if you are not careful,” he said. “But I am sure it is long enough for this. I will back up and hang my tail over the edge. You take hold, my dear Mr. Lobster, and I will pull you up.”
Mr. Badger backed over to the very edge of the bank. Mr. Lobster reached up both of his big claws, which were very strong, because he was sixty-eight years old, and grabbed Mr. Badger’s tail. He held on for dear life.
“Ow!” Mr. Badger screamed and gave a tremendous jump, and Mr. Lobster went flying through the air so fast that he let go of Mr. Badger’s tail and landed all in a heap on the grassy meadow. The shock frightened him and made him feel dizzy. At first he didn’t know where he was, and he snapped his tail furiously in order to go somewhere at high speed. But of course he went nowhere, because he wasn’t in the water, and his tail was just snapping in the air.
Mr. Badger was running around in a circle trying to catch up with his tail to see if it was all there. Suddenly he stopped running and sat down and began to laugh.
“That was an awfully good joke on me,” he said. “You took hold of my tail so hard that I thought it was bitten in two. I did say something about having a short tail, but mine is short enough already, thank you. I really am very sorry I jumped so and sent you flying through the air. I usually jump when I am surprised. I hope you are not hurt.”
By this time Mr. Lobster had gotten his breath, but his thoughts were still badly shaken. He thought that if seeing the land was like this, perhaps he had made a mistake in leaving his nice safe house between the two big rocks at the bottom of the Ocean.
“OW!” MR. BADGER SCREAMED AND GAVE A TREMENDOUS JUMP.
“I think I am all right now,” he said, “although it hardly seems possible.”
Mr. Badger laughed.
“You look splendid,” he said. “You are probably the first lobster in the world to fly, also. That ought to make you feel better than ever.”
That thought did cheer Mr. Lobster, and he began to look around. It was a beautiful summer day, with a high blue sky and a bright sun that made all the meadows warm.
“Now you can see t
he land,” said Mr. Badger, “which I am sure you will find superior to the bottom of the Ocean. Come with me.”
Mr. Lobster was still not sure of all his joints, but he crawled along beside Mr. Badger. Very slowly they started across the meadow, and Mr. Lobster saw tall grass, some bright blue flowers of the blue-grass, and, farther away, some trees. He even heard birds. Those were red-winged blackbirds, who live in the meadows and scold everybody else who comes near their homes.
Mr. Lobster became so interested in all the new things that he was seeing that he overlooked one very important thing. That was the sunshine. He had never been out in the sunshine, and he didn’t know that it would dry him up in no time if he wasn’t careful. So he kept walking along with Mr. Badger, turning his eyes this way and that, and trying to see everything in the new land-world, and not paying any heed at all to the fact that the sun was shining and he was going farther and farther away from the river.
And then, suddenly, like a pain in the stomach after eating green apples, the sort of pain you hope is just a mistake and will not return again, Mr. Lobster had a most unpleasant sensation. He was getting dry.
He stopped crawling to make sure that he was right. The feeling came again, as pains are so likely to when you stop and wait for them, and then he was sure.
“I must go back!” he exclaimed. “I am beginning to get dry!”
“We shall turn around,” said Mr. Badger calmly.
They started back toward the river. Mr. Lobster tried to hurry, but his legs would not hurry on grass. He snapped his tail, and then remembered that it was no use unless he was in the water. And he was getting drier and drier.
He felt sure now that he was going to perish, for he couldn’t see the river anywhere.
“I have felt very dry twice already,” he said to Mr. Badger. “If I feel dry for the third time, I am done for. And now it is coming on! I can never get back! It’s too far!”
“You must hurry!” cried Mr. Badger.
“I can’t hurry any faster. What shall I do?” Poor Mr. Lobster began to moan, and as soon as he began to moan he began to go even more slowly, because the more sorry you are for yourself the more slowly you go, always. “This is no way to get knowledge,” he moaned. “My knowledge won’t do me any good. There’s no use in satisfying your curiosity if it leaves you dead when you’ve satisfied it. The sculpin was right. I am perishing!”
The Curious Lobster Page 2