by Tove Jansson
The Ant-lion drew up his shoulders and raised his mane in a terrifying manner.
‘Out of my way!’ he cried. ‘Now I’m going underground, but when I come back I shall gobble you up! One, two, three!’ And he backed down into the sand like a whirling propeller, right into the jar which was hidden under him. It certainly did only take three seconds, or perhaps two and a half, because he was so awfully angry.
‘Quick with the lid,’ cried Moomintroll, and scraping away the sand they screwed it on very tightly. Then they both heaved up the jar and began to roll it home, with the Ant-lion inside screaming and cursing and choking with sand.
‘It’s frightful how angry he is,’ said the Snork. ‘I daren’t think what will happen when he comes out!’
‘He won’t come out now,’ said Moomintroll, quietly, ‘and when he does I hope he will be changed into something horrible.’
When they arrived at Moominhouse Moomintroll summoned everyone with three long whistles. (Which means: Something quite extraordinary has happened.)
The others arrived from all directions and collected round the jar with the screw-top.
‘What have you got there?’ asked Sniff.
‘An ant-lion,’ said Moomintroll, proudly. ‘A genuine furiously angry ant-lion that we have taken prisoner!’
‘Fancy you daring!’ said the Snork Maiden, admiringly.
‘And now I think we’ll pour him into the hat,’ said the Snork.
‘So that he will be changed like I was,’ said Moomintroll.
‘Will somebody please tell me what all this is about?’ the Hemulen asked plaintively.
‘It was because I hid in that hat that I was changed,’ explained Moomintroll. ‘We’ve worked it out. And now we’re going to make sure by seeing if the Ant-lion will turn into something else as well.’
‘B-but he could turn into absolutely anything!’ squeaked Sniff. ‘He could turn into something still more dangerous than an ant-lion and gobble us all up in a minute.’ They stood in terrified silence looking at the pot and listening to the muffled sounds coming from inside.
‘Oh!’ said the Snork Maiden, turning rather pale,* but Snufkin suggested they should all hide under the table while the change took place, and put a big book on top of the hat. ‘You must always take risks when experimenting,’ he said. ‘Tip him in now at once.’
Sniff scrambled under the table while Moomintroll, Snufkin, and the Hemulen held the jar over the Hobgoblin’s hat, and the Snork gingerly unscrewed the lid. In a cloud of sand the Ant-lion tumbled out, and, quick as lightning, the Snork popped a Dictionary of Outlandish Words on top. Then they all dived under the table and waited.
At first nothing happened.
They peeped out from under the tablecloth, getting more and more agitated. Still there was no change.
‘It was all rot,’ said Sniff, but at that moment the big dictionary began to crinkle up, and in his excitement, Sniff bit the Hemulen’s thumb thinking it was his own.
Now the dictionary was curling up more and more. The pages began to look like withered leaves, and between them the Outlandish Words came out and began crawling around on the floor.
‘Goodness gracious me,’ said Moomintroll.
But there was more to come. Water began to drip from the brim of the hat and then to overflow and to splash down on to the carpet so that the Words had to climb up the walls to save themselves.
‘The Ant-lion has only turned into water,’ said Snufkin in disappointment.
‘I think it’s the sand,’ whispered the Snork. ‘The Ant-lion is sure to come soon.’
They waited again for an unbearably long time. The Snork Maiden hid her face in Moomintroll’s lap, and Sniff whimpered with fright. Then suddenly, on the edge of the hat, appeared the world’s smallest hedgehog. He sniffed the air and blinked, and he was very tangled and wet.
There was dead silence for a couple of seconds. Then Snufkin began to laugh, and in a very short time they were all howling and rolling about under the table in pure delight. All, that is, except the Hemulen who did not join in the fun. He looked in surprise at his friends and said: ‘Well, we expected the Ant-lion to change, didn’t we? If only I could understand why you always make such a fuss about things.’
Meanwhile the little hedgehog had wandered solemnly and a little sadly to the door and out down the steps. The water had stopped flowing and now filled the veranda like a lake. And the whole ceiling was covered with Outlandish Words.
*
When the whole thing had been explained to Moominpappa and Moominmamma they took it very seriously, and decided that the Hobgoblin’s Hat should be destroyed, so it was rolled cautiously down to the river and dropped into the water.
‘There go the clouds and the magic changes,’ said Moominmamma as they watched the hat gliding away.
‘The clouds were fun,’ said Moomintroll, rather dejectedly. ‘I shouldn’t mind having them back!’
‘And the flood and the Words, too, I suppose,’ Moominmamma said crossly. ‘Look at the veranda! And I can’t think what I shall do with these little creeping Words. They’re all over the place and making the whole house untidy.’
‘But the clouds were fun anyway,’ said Moomintroll obstinately And that night he couldn’t sleep, but lay looking out at the light June night which was full of lonely whisperings and rustlings and the pattering of feet. The air was sweet with the smell of flowers.
Snufkin wasn’t in yet. On such nights he often wandered about alone with his mouth-organ, but tonight there was no song to be heard. He was probably on a voyage of discovery, and soon he would put up his tent by the river, refusing to sleep indoors. Moomintroll sighed. He felt sad but didn’t know why.
Just then a faint whistle came from the garden. Moomintroll’s heart gave a bound and he tiptoed softly to the window and looked out. The whistle meant: ‘Secrets!’ Snufkin was waiting under the rope-ladder.
‘Can you keep a secret?’ he whispered when Moomintroll had clambered down on to the grass.
Moomintroll nodded eagerly, and Snufkin leant towards him and whispered again: ‘The hat has floated to land on a sandbank down the river.’
‘What about it?’ asked Snufkin’s eyebrows, and Moomintroll’s ears waggled a big ‘Yes.’ The next minute they were creeping like shadows through the dewy garden down towards the river.
‘You know, it’s really our duty to save the hat, because all the water that fills it is red,’ said Snufkin. ‘Those who live far down the river will be panicstricken by all this awful water.’
‘We might have known something like that would happen,’ said Moomintroll. He felt very proud to be walking along like this with Snufkin in the middle of the night; Snufkin had always done his night wandering alone before.
‘It’s somewhere here,’ Snufkin said. ‘There’s the dark streak in the water. Do you see?’
‘Not properly,’ said Moomintroll, who was stumbling along in the half-dark. ‘I haven’t got night-eyes like you.’
‘I wonder how we’re going to get it,’ said Snufkin looking out over the river. ‘So foolish of your father not to have a boat.’
Moomintroll hesitated. ‘I swim quite well – anyway if the water isn’t too cold,’ he said.
‘You wouldn’t dare!’ said Snufkin.
‘I certainly would,’ Moomintroll retorted, suddenly feeling very brave. ‘Where is it now?’
‘Across there,’ said Snufkin. ‘You’ll soon touch bottom on the sandbank. But take care that you don’t put your foot in the hat. Hold the crown of it.’
Moomintroll slipped down into the warm summer water and swam dog-wise out into the river. There was a strong current, and for a moment he felt a bit frightened. Then he saw the sand-bank, with something black on it, and steering with his tail, he soon felt sand under his feet.
‘Is everything all right?’ called Snufkin from the shore, and an answering cry came from Moomintroll as he waded on to the sandbank.
There was a dark
stream curling out of the hat and down to the river – it was the red water. Moomintroll stuck his paw into it and then licked it cautiously.
‘Goodness gracious me,’ he muttered. ‘It’s raspberry juice! Just think! From now on we can have as much raspberry juice as we want by just filling the hat with water.’ And his ‘Pee-hoo!’ war-cry went over the river to Snufkin, who shouted back impatiently: ‘Well, have you got it?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Moomintroll shouted, wading into the water again with his tail in a firm knot round the Hobgoblin’s Hat.
It is difficult to swim against the current with a heavy hat dragging behind you, and when Moomintroll struggled up the bank he was terribly tired.
‘Here it is,’ he puffed proudly.
‘Fine!’ said Snufkin. ‘But now what shall we do with it?’
‘Well, we can’t keep it in Moominhouse,’ said Moomintroll. ‘Nor in the garden. Someone would find it.’
At last they decided on the cave, but not to let Sniff into the secret (although it was really his cave), because he was rather a small person for such a big secret.
‘You know,’ said Moomintroll seriously, ‘it’s the first time we have done anything that we couldn’t tell mother and father about.’
Snufkin took the hat in his arms and began going back by the river, but when they came to the bridge he suddenly stopped.
‘What is it?’ whispered Moomintroll in alarm.
‘Canaries!’ Snufkin burst out. ‘Three yellow canaries there on the bridge. How strange to see them out at night.’
‘I’m not a canary,’ peeped the nearest bird. ‘I’m a roach!’
‘We are respectable fishes, all three!’ his friend twittered.
Snufkin scratched his head.
‘There – you see what the hat is getting up to,’ he said. ‘Those three little fishes were swimming in it, I’m sure, and were changed. Come on! We’ll go straight to the cave and hide that hat!’
Moomintroll kept close behind Snufkin as they went through the wood. There were rustlings and patterings on both sides of the path and it was almost a bit frightening. Sometimes small, glittering eyes stared at them from behind the trees, and now and then something called to them from the ground or from the branches.
‘A beautiful night!’ Moomintroll heard a voice right behind him.
‘Fine,’ he answered bravely. And a small shadow slunk past him in the dusk.
On the beach it was lighter. A pale blue shimmer hung over the sea and sky, and far out the birds cried their lonely cries. Night was already over. Snufkin and Moomintroll carried the Hobgoblin’s Hat up to the cave and put it, brim downwards, in the darkest corner, so that nothing would be able to fall into it.
‘Now we’ve done the best we can,’ said Snufkin. ‘And imagine if we could only get those five small clouds back!’
‘Yes,’ said Moomintroll who stood in the opening of the cave looking out at the sea. ‘Though I wonder if they could make it any more wonderful than it is just now.’
Chapter three
In which the Muskrat has a terrible experience; how the Moomin family discover Hattifatteners’ Island where the Hemulen has a narrow escape, and how they survive the great thunderstorm.
NEXT morning the Muskrat went out as usual with his book to lie in the hammock, but he had just got comfortable when the string broke and he found himself on the ground.
‘Unpardonable!’ exclaimed the Muskrat unwinding the rug from his legs.
‘Oh, dear,’ said Moominpappa who was watering his tobacco plants. ‘I hope you didn’t hurt yourself?’
‘It isn’t that,’ replied the Muskrat gloomily sucking his moustache. ‘The earth can crack and fire come down from heaven for all I care – that sort of thing doesn’t disturb me – but I do not like to be put into a ridiculous situation. It isn’t dignified for a philosopher!’
‘But I’m the only one who saw it happen,’ protested Moominpappa.
‘That’s bad enough!’ replied the Muskrat. ‘You will remember all that I have been exposed to in your house! Last year, for example, a comet fell on us. It was nothing. But as you perhaps remember, I sat on your wife’s chocolate shape. It was the deepest insult to my dignity! And sometimes your guests put hair brushes in my bed – a particularly stupid joke. Not to mention your son, Moomintroll…’
‘I know, I know,’ interrupted Moominpappa, miserably. ‘But there’s no peace in this house… And sometimes string wears out with the years you know.’
‘It must not,’ said the Muskrat. ‘If I had killed myself, of course, it wouldn’t have mattered. But imagine if your YOUNG PERSONS had seen me! Now, however, I intend to retire to a deserted spot and live a life of loneliness and peace, giving up everything. I have made up my mind once and for all.’
Moominpappa was impressed. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Where will you go?’
‘To the cave,’ said the Muskrat. ‘Nobody can interrupt my thoughts with stupid jokes there. You may bring me food twice a day. But not before ten o’clock.’
‘Good,’ said Moominpappa bowing. ‘And shall we bring you some furniture, too?’
‘Yes, you can do that,’ said the Muskrat, more kindly. ‘But very simple things. I realize that you mean well, but that family of yours is really too much for me.’ So the Muskrat took his book and his rug and wandered slowly off towards the cliffs. Moominpappa sighed to himself; then he went on watering his tobacco plants and soon forgot all about it.
When the Muskrat arrived in the cave he was very pleased with everything. He spread out his rug on the sandy floor, sat down on it, and began at once to think. He continued to do that for about two hours. All was quiet and peaceful and through the crack in the roof the sun shone softly into his hiding place. Sometimes he moved slightly when the sun slid away from him.
Here I shall stay for ever and ever, he thought. How unnecessary it is to run about and chatter, to build a house and cook food and collect possessions! He looked contentedly around his new home, and then he caught sight of the Hobgoblin’s Hat, which Moomintroll and Snufkin had hidden in the darkest corner.
‘The waste-paper basket,’ said the Muskrat to himself. ‘Oh, so it’s here. Well, it will always come in useful.’
He thought a little while longer, and then he decided to sleep for a bit. He rolled himself in the blanket and put his false teeth in the hat so that they would not get sandy. Then he slept peacefully and happily.
*
In Moominhouse they had pancakes for luncheon – big yellow pancakes with raspberry jam. There was porridge from the day before as well, but as nobody wanted it they decided to save it for the next morning.
‘Today I feel like doing something unusual,’ said Moominmamma. ‘The fact that we have got rid of that awful hat is something that ought to be celebrated, and besides one gets so tired of everlastingly sitting in the same place.’
‘That’s quite true, my dear!’ said Moominpappa. ‘We’ll go on an excursion somewhere, what!’
‘We’ve been everywhere already. There isn’t anywhere new,’ said the Hemulen.
‘But there must be,’ said Moominpappa. ‘And if there isn’t, then we’ll make somewhere. Stop eating now, children – we’ll take the food with us.’
‘Can we eat what we already have in our mouths?’ asked Sniff.
‘Don’t be silly, dear,’ said Moominmamma. ‘Collect everything you want to take with you quickly, because father wants to start at once. But don’t take anything unnecessary. We can write a note to the Muskrat so that he knows where we are.’
‘Bless my tail!’ burst out Moominpappa, and put his hand to his forehead. ‘I had completely forgotten! We should have taken food and furniture to him in the cave!’
‘In the cave?’ screamed Moomintroll and Snufkin at the same time.
‘Yes – the string of the hammock gave out,’ said Moominpappa. ‘And so the Muskrat said that he couldn’t think any more, and that he would give up everything. You had put brushes in his bed,
and I don’t know what. And so he went away to the cave.’
Moomintroll and Snufkin went very pale and looked at each other in horror. ‘The Hat!’ they thought.
‘Well, it doesn’t matter very much,’ said Moominmamma. ‘We’ll go on an excursion to the beach and take the Muskrat’s food to him on the way.’
‘The beach is so ordinary,’ grumbled Sniff. ‘Can’t we go somewhere else?’
‘Be quiet, children!’ said Moominpappa, severely. ‘Mamma wants to bathe. Now, come along!’
Moominmamma hurried off to pack. She collected blankets, saucepans, birch-bark,* a coffeepot, masses of food, suntan-oil, matches, and everything you can eat out of, on or with. She packed it all with an umbrella, warm clothes, tummy-ache medicine, an egg-whisk, cushions, a mosquito-net, bathing-drawers and a table cloth in her bag. She bustled to and fro racking her brains for anything she had forgotten, and at last she said: ‘Now it’s ready! Oh, how lovely it will be to have a rest by the sea!’
Moominpappa packed his pipe and his fishing-rod. ‘Well, are you all ready?’ he asked, ‘and are you sure you haven’t forgotten anything? All right, let’s start!’
They set off in a procession towards the beach. Last of all came Sniff dragging six little toy boats behind him.
‘Do you think the Muskrat has got up to anything?’ whispered Moomintroll to Snufkin.
‘I certainly hope not!’ Snufkin whispered back. ‘But I’m feeling a bit anxious!’
At that moment they all stopped so suddenly that the Hemulen nearly got the fishing-rod in his eye.
‘Who screamed?’ Moominmamma burst out in alarm.
The whole wood shook with a wild howling, and someone or something came galloping towards them on the path, growling with terror and rage.
‘Hide!’ shouted Moominpappa. ‘There’s a monster coming!’
But before anyone had time to move the monster turned out to be the Muskrat, with staring eyes and bristling whiskers. He waved his paws and made incoherent sounds that nobody could understand, but it was clear that he was very angry or frightened, or angry because he was frightened. Then he turned tail and fled.