The War for the Lot

by Sterling Lanier

  "But it's not as important any longer because of what we learned last night," Whisperfoot said. "What's the other job?"

  "The bear," said Alec softly. "What do we do about the bear?"

  Whisperfoot had no answer and the two sat silently staring out of the bedroom window.

  The day dragged on. No new reports came in from the woods, but Creeper appeared in the afternoon to say that the house mice from in town were still on the job and that any news of the rats moving would be transmitted to The Lot as fast as it became known.

  In the late afternoon, when the sun had sunk low in the west, Alec and Worthless lay under their favorite apple tree, up on the rise behind the back of the house. They had both spent a lazy day Alec because he was genuinely tired, Worthless because as a cat, he never exerted himself unless pushed to it.

  "It's this waiting that's the worst," said Alec. "If only something would be sure to happen at a certain time, things would be easier to take."

  "That's the trouble with humans," said the cat. He was patting a leaf and pretending to himself it was a captured mouse. "Time means nothing, really, but you don't understand that. If something doesn't happen today, it will happen tomorrow. Why worry about it? Even your mice friends know that much. Speaking of which," he added, sitting up, "I thought your little deermouse was up in the room. But here she comes through the grass looking for you."

  As he spoke, Whisperfoot's voice came into Alec's mind.

  "Here I am," she said, popping out of a clump of grass a yard away. "I had to find you right away. Some news has arrived."

  "Now what?" inquired the cat. "More trips to the dump?"

  "Not for the two of us," said the deermouse. "What you do is your own business. Watcher and I have a trip to make tonight."

  With the return of all his old fears and a feeling of giving way at the knees, Alec read the picture in her mind a picture of a great, black animal lurching through the forest.

  Whisperfoot went on. "One of the gray squirrels went over the hills to get some acorns from the pin oak wood. He found the bear asleep in the middle of a thicket. Says he looked dead to the world and probably wouldn't move for a while. Oh, yes, and he was bleeding a little from one foot. It had flies all over it. The squirrel sent a message to Scratch and he sent one to me through the other mice." She finished her message and no one's thoughts were broadcast.

  Alec felt worse and worse. Not only was Mowheen probably in his usual state of rage, but he also had been hurt was, in fact, a wounded bear!

  "Who was going besides you two to see this beast?" asked Worthless after a long pause.

  "Us two and Stamper, the skunk from down in the woods," said the boy gloomily. "We thought his gas cloud might keep the bear off if he got angry at us."

  "Hmm," said the cat. "Not a very pleasant prospect, is it? However, I will go along as well. Faced with the inescapable logic and common sense of a cat, the brute will certainly see reason and behave in a calm manner." He began to wash his tail.

  "More likely decide he wants to eat the fattest thing he's seen all season," said the deermouse in acid tones. "Who asked you along anyway? You'd probably get tired half way there and want to lie down."

  "If you want to come, I'd like to have you, Worthless," said Alec. "That'll make four of us and maybe impress him more."

  "Good," said the cat. "That's settled then. For the benefit of anyone else," he added pointedly, "I can move faster than most people think. Now, since we have a trip of some length, I shall go and rest. You will find me at the foot of the front stairs when you come down later tonight." He jumped up and marched proudly away down the hill.

  Alec turned to Whisperfoot, smiling. "Well, you may think he's fat and lazy, but at least he's brave."

  "I'll wait and see," said the deermouse significantly. "He's never seen a live bear yet. We'll just see what happens later on. Hadn't you better go lie down yourself?" she continued. "It will be a fairly long trip, and at night, too, when you don't see very well."

  "Supper ought to be ready soon," said Alec. "Have you had anything to eat?" The deermouse, unlike Creeper, had never asked him for any food, and when he remembered to think of asking her, he felt guilty.

  "I have a steady supply,'' she said. "Whenever I go out, I eat."

  "Okay," said Alec. "By the way, does Stamper know about this yet?"

  "I guess everyone in the whole wood must know. Stamper was sent a message to meet us under the fruit trees after all the light goes. He'll be there."

  At this point, they heard Lou's brass cowbell from the kitchen and the boy got up and walked down the hill, leaving the mouse to wait for him in a woodpecker hole high on the trunk of the tree.

  Supper seemed to Alec to drag interminably. His fear had somewhat quieted, but he now felt it intolerable to wait any longer. He chattered away at intervals to Lou and John, for his grandfather was out, having telephoned that he would stay to dinner with friends. Mostly, Alec let the two adults do the talking. His mind was on other matters. How does one approach or speak to a strange bear? Would the animal run away if he heard them coming? Alec had no illusions about his own ability to walk quietly in the woods at night.

  These and similar questions kept him busy long after supper was over. He sat on the back steps in a thoughtful mood, holding his box turtle in his lap, while the placid beast lay uncomplaining and did not even withdraw into its shell. Eventually his normal bedtime arrived and he stopped staring at the glowing sky and went upstairs to take a bath at Lou's suggestion.

  Once in bed with the door shut, he called to Creeper and the fat little house mouse promptly emerged from the knothole.

  "Any more news come in while I was downstairs?"

  "No," was the answer. "Except that skunk has sent back word that he'll be outside at full dark. That's all."

  At this point, Whisperfoot appeared on the window sill, having come from the orchard by herself. She guessed how Alec must be feeling and had not wanted him to be alone.

  She waited a moment and then spoke to him. "This whole thing is so scary, it hurts my head to even think about it; so I try not to. The only way to go through with something difficult, Watcher, is not to think about it. Then before you know it, it will be over. Of course, that fat cat may change his mind!"

  It was her last thought which helped the most. The very idea of Worthless had made her picture him clinging in terror to the top of a small sapling, which bent under his very considerable weight. In the picture his orange fur was fluffed out in terror and he was emitting yowls for help.

  Alec laughed aloud and the laughter helped to steady his nerves. "You'd better not let Worthless hear you talk like that," he said. "He may be fat, but he was pretty brave last night in the dump. Anyway, I guess it's too late to back out now. As you said, it may not be fun, but it will seem better when it's over."

  "That's my Watcher," she said. "Now listen, you're young still by the way your own people count you. Get some rest and try to sleep. I'll show you how mice put their young ones to sleep, and that's something I don't think many humans have heard before."

  Although few people know it, some kinds of mice can sing—make a musical sound quite unlike squeaking. Whisperfoot's song was a strange little tremolo sound, high and yet not shrill, that wavered up and down and seemed to go on and on. To anyone else, it would have sounded perhaps like a tiny bird whistling softly to itself; but Alec could see the thoughts that went with the song, and they were the most important part.

  Alec caught glimpses of Whisperfoot's home nest and her parents and her brothers and sisters at play in the cozy little den. At times he saw the moon at night through the forest leaves from a mouse's point of view and got a feeling of well-being from the winter scenes of play in the bright snow under cold skies. That is what the song was all about, the things that make a small animal happy, and he found them comforting.

  As he listened, it grew steadily less light outside his window. Without realizing it, he heard Lou and John come upstair
s. Later still, his grandfather returned, driven by friends, and ascended to bed; but Alec did not hear him, for he was now asleep. The song had gone on a long time and had become a lullaby, sending him to sleep just as it had countless generations of baby mice.

  He awoke at full dark, alert and ready for anything. Moonlight had replaced the sun, and came in a pale glow through the window. The full moon of several nights before had shrunk and was now a gibbous moon still throwing a powerful gleam across the land, aided by the stars. No breath of wind stirred the June night and all was still except for the far-off call of a mourning dove, which repeated its sad plaint over and over to the moon, whup poo-poo-poo. Aside from that, the night was silent, not even a cricket singing.

  "Ready to go?" came Whisperfoot's voice. "It's just time now. Are you wearing the things you should to keep warm with no fur?"

  Alec was dressing even as she spoke from her perch on the window ledge. He had gone to bed dressed in pajamas, and was now shedding these for his usual daytime clothes. Over the shirt he pulled a dark sweater, and he put a blue baseball cap on his head. He had no idea whether he was going one mile or five this time. The animals had tried to explain various distances to him, but their measurements are taken from one landmark to another from this tree to that brook and it was almost impossible for a human to figure out how much actual distance really lay in between.

  He went to the window to pick the deermouse up. She ran to her place on his shoulder and the two of them looked out over the shadowed and dappled view. The apple trees were silver under the moonlight and masses of dark shadow crouched at their feet. Beyond, higher on the hill, the cedars stood like dark sentries on the slope.

  "Well, I guess there's no point in hanging around," said Alec. "Looks spooky, doesn't it?"

  "I think it looks nice," answered the deermouse. "But then, this is when most of us who are small get up. If we ran around in daylight all the time like you humans, the hunters would have mouse dinners. No, night is the best time of all, especially a summer night. Why, before we're through with you, you'll be up every night at the crack of dusk and then do nothing all day but sleep." She didn't believe this, of course, but simply talked to make Alec feel better.

  Alec went down the front stairs and headed toward the library. The old house was as still as on the previous night, no light showing anywhere.

  "Not going without me, I hope?" came Worthless' thought. As Alec opened the library door without bothering to answer, the big cat slipped past him and moved into the room first.

  "I just thought of something," Alec said to Whisperfoot. "Does Stamper know about the cat coming?"

  "I passed it on," said the mouse drily. "Cats mean nothing to him. You better tell your fat friend, though."

  "I heard you," said Worthless. "First a mouse and then a skunk! However, I suppose it's all in a good cause." His manner conveyed tremendous disdain for the whole business.

  Alec went out on the moonlit grass, the scents of night fresh in his nose. Worthless padded ahead of him and they went around the corner of the house and up past the vegetable garden to the first trees of the orchard.

  "Fine night," came a pleasant voice from under the nearest of them. The handsome skunk moved out from the shadow, his black-and-white plume of a tail clearly visible, putting the cat's to shame. "I see we have a new ally. Good evening, friend."

  Worthless was actually pretty nervous, for all his previous talk. He had never before spoken to any animal his own size, and being so close to one, and such a dangerous one at that, put him off. He did his best to be polite.

  "Good evening to you. Seems a pretty small group to go visit a bear, doesn't it?"

  "It won't get any bigger if we stand here all night," said Whisperfoot. "You lead the way, Stamper, since you know where it is. Why don't you bring up the rear, cat?" Her implication was clear, it being that Worthless would be afraid to go in front. Alec hastily interrupted before trouble started.

  "That's the best way, I think, since Worthless doesn't know where we're going and I can't see or hear as well as he can. In case someone comes up behind us, Worthless can give warning."

  This made such good sense that even Worthless could hardly quarrel with the idea. So the four set off westward—skunk, boy with mouse, and cat, in that order moving silently through the foot-high grass of the upper orchard and out on to the bare slope of the hill beyond. Had anyone been watching from the back upper windows of the house, they would have been quite visible in the moonlight; but Alec had the only occupied bedroom on that side and they were unseen.

  Stamper led steadily through the grass at a rate Alec could follow quite easily. Skunks are not built for high speed, being rather short in the leg, but Stamper was setting a good pace for one of his kind. Worthless padded along in their tracks, keeping up without trouble. Few thoughts were exchanged; but by this time, Alec had learned this was normal. Animals don't like to talk while moving or traveling, since they concentrate on going somewhere and on watching for danger. Talking on a journey is for emergencies.

  At the crest of the hill, the boy looked back once at the rooftops of the old house down the slope. If he felt lonesome and afraid, he managed to keep it from the others.

  Soon they came to another stone wall, in much better shape than the one further down. Strands of barbed wire were strongly staked through it at intervals and a tattered notice on one nearby pole proclaimed that hunting, fishing and trapping were forbidden. They had come to the western boundary of The Lot, and John kept the outer fence in fairly good repair.

  The fence was a formidable obstacle to an adult human, but the animals and the boy slipped through a narrow gap with no trouble at all. On the far side, the pasture with its tall grass and weeds stopped abruptly. In front of them rose another gentle slope, going up to a level plateau, perhaps the debris of some ancient glacial icecap. This was covered by a heavy growth of low scrub oak trees, none higher than fifteen feet, with occasional blueberry, laurel, and juniper bushes thrusting up below. A dense and level carpet of old brown oak leaves lay underfoot, pierced by an occasional low outcropping of white quartz or iron-gray granite. No bird or insect voice broke the night stillness, only the crackle of the dry leaves underfoot as the little party entered the shadowed oak domain. The way ahead was clearly lit by the moon, for the trees kept out only a small amount of light.

  The skunk paused for a second here and seemed to look about to get his bearings, sniffing loudly as he did so. Skunks don't see very well, anyway, even in good light, and Stamper was using his nose to establish his direction. Apparently satisfied, he lowered his head and led on through the leaves in his curious, humping gait.

  "Have we a long way to go?" asked Alec after they had marched for some minutes. The noise they were making seemed tremendous to him, and the loud rattle of the oak leaves made him feel exposed and defenseless.

  "Quite a bit," said the skunk, not halting his pace. "I wouldn't talk if I were you. I'll let you know when we're getting close. I'm heading for where he was last seen. He may have moved, but it's the best I can do."

  They were heading northwest, away from The Lot, and the boy fell silent at the rebuke. His old fears had returned in full strength. He clenched his teeth hard and trudged on, trying to make as little noise as possible.

  They must have gone at least two miles, weaving around the trees and large boulders and shelves of stone, before the skunk called a halt. Once, as they had crossed a little clearing near a great rounded rock, the skunk had checked and turned a sharp left. Alec had followed without thinking, unaware that the wise animal had caught a sudden harsh odor, something like cucumbers, from just ahead. Recognizing the scent of a hunting timber rattlesnake, he had detoured around the place and gone back to his original path just beyond. But of this the boy knew nothing.

  When Stamper finally did come to a full stop, Alec found himself on the lip of a little hollow. At the bottom, the trees were somewhat taller and there were a few ancient, stunted willows and a
lders mixed with the oaks. A gleam of still water came from the middle of the depression, where an old dew pond had formed over the centuries, always renewed by the rains and staying unchanged even in dry years, preserved perhaps by the remains of some ancient peat bog at its center.

  "You wait here," said the skunk. "He comes to drink here sometimes, and he was reported sleeping not too far away. I'll go look and see if I can locate him. If I do, I'll come back and get you."

  Alec was glad enough to sit down as the skunk waddled away through the trees. He noticed that even in the carpet of dead leaves Stamper made almost no noise, and he marveled once again at how quiet animals can be.

  Worthless came and sat down at his feet, looking around continually, with his tail fluffed up and ears cocked.

  "I don't like this place," he said to the boy. "No really big trees or anything to climb on if we should be attacked. Do you hear anything?"

  "The only thing anyone can hear is you breathing,'' said Whisperfoot from Alec's shoulder. "Maybe if you weren't so fat you'd be able to relax a little and stop frightening yourself with the noise you make!"

  Alec smiled, but only to himself. He was sitting on one slope of the little hollow with his back to an old stump, looking down and across to the other side. The moon shone brightly on the ancient trees ringing the tiny pond and the water reflected silver light through gaps in the foliage. No breeze ruffled the still leaves.

  Faintly and from miles away a bell began to toll in single strokes. Aside from this sound, they might have been out at sea for all the evidence of human life or habitation that existed. Alec leaned back, his dark clothes blending with the stump and his white face in shadow, as invisible as any woods creature to the eye. Even Worthless relaxed and lay down, and the three were silent, awaiting the return of their scout.