Chapter 7 Chapter 7 The Piper at Dawn

The moss warbler among the willows sang softly on the dark shore.Though past ten o'clock at night, the sky clings and retains the afterglow of the dead day; the scorching sweltering heat of the afternoon touches, disperses, and recedes the chill fingers of a short midsummer night.The Mole lay sprawled on the bank, panting after a hot, cloudless day from dawn to sunset, and was waiting for his friend to return.He and some companions had been on the river to show the Rat to see the Otter, as they had promised for a long time. The house was dark and empty when the Mole came back, and there was no sign of the Rat at all, for he must have been late at his old friend's.It was still too hot inside, so he lay outside on the cool sour plum leaves, thinking about the day that had passed and some of the things he had done, and how happy they all had been.

Soon the Rat was heard coming with a light step over the dry grass. "Oh, how cool!" he said, sitting down, looking thoughtfully at the creek, and thinking of his own thoughts without saying a word. "You stayed to supper, of course?" said the Mole at once. "It has to be," said the Rat, "and they won't listen to me when I say I'm coming back. You know how polite they always are. As usual, they try to make my time as pleasant as possible till I go. But I always It hurts, because I know very well they're very unhappy, though they try to hide it. I'm afraid they're in trouble, Mole. The little fat man is missing again; and you know how much his father misses him, though he never says it."

"Why, the boy is gone?" said the Mole softly. "Well, if he's gone, why worry? He gets lost and comes back; he's too adventurous. But he's been all right. Everybody around knows him and likes him as they know and like the old man. Like an otter, you can rest assured that some animal will come across him and bring him home again. But no, we found him once ourselves, and he was quite calm and happy a few miles from home! " "Yes, but it's much worse this time," said the Rat gravely. "He's been missing for several days now, and the otters have been looking for him everywhere, up and down, but they can't find a trace of him anywhere. They Asked every animal for miles around, but none of them knew anything about him. The otter was evidently more anxious than he let himself be. I could tell from his mouth that the fat little fellow hadn't learned to swim well, So I could see him thinking about the dam. There's always something about this place for kids, considering the time of year when there's a lot of water coming down. And you know, there's a trap or something. Otter wasn't worried about one of his sons before this season. Now he is. He came out with me when I left... Said he wanted to get some air and move his legs. But I could see That's not what he was for, so I teased him and grilled him, and finally got all he had in mind. He's going to stay by the ford all night. You know that ford you used to wade across before the bridge was built?"

"I know very well," said the Mole, "but why did the Otter choose that place to wait?" "Well, it looks like that's where he first taught the little fat man how to swim," went on the Rat, "in the shallows and pebbles on the bank. He used to teach him how to fish there, and the little fat man was there. Caught his first fish and he was very proud of the fish. The boy loved the spot, so the otter thought that if he got back from wandering somewhere—if the poor little guy was somewhere now Roaming--he'll head for this shallow he loves so much; or he'll remember it as he passes there, and maybe stop and play. So Otter visits there every night... Try your luck, you know, just for a try luck!"

They were silent for a moment, all thinking of the same thing--the lonely, sad animal who crouched by the shallows, watching and waiting, all night long--to try his luck. "Well, well," went on the Rat, "I think we should go in." But he made no sign of moving. "The River Rat," said the Mole, "I just can't go in, can't go to sleep, can't do anything, if there's nothing to do. Let's get the boat out and paddle up the river. Another hour or so , the moon is coming up, we search as much as we can... Anyway, it's better than going to bed for nothing."

"That's exactly what I thought," said the Rat. "It's not bedtime anyhow; and it's not too far from daylight, and we'll get some news of him from the early risers along the way." They got the boat out, and the Rat took the oars and rowed carefully.In the middle of the river there was a narrow narrow strip of clear water, which dimly reflected the sky; but in other places shadows of the bank fell into the water, and bushes or great trees were as black as the whole bank itself, so that the Mole had to judge take the helm.The night was dark and deserted, full of little noises, songs, twitters, and rustles, telling of the sleepless busy little inhabitants, coming and going, doing their work all night, till the sun at last set and dismissed them. To enjoy their well-earned break.The sound of the water itself was also clearer than in the day, and its cooing and booing were surprisingly nearer; every now and then they were startled by a sudden cry that was really clearly articulated.

Against the sky, the horizon was clear and distinct, and at one point the silvery phosphorescence rose higher and higher, making the horizon appear black.At last the moon rose majestically over the land that awaited it, completely away from the horizon that supported it; From the edge to the river, everything is leisurely exposed, all the mystery and horror are swept away, as gorgeous as the day, but very different.Their old place welcomes them again just as it slipped away and sneaks back in this brand new costume, smiling while waiting shyly to see it become like this, do they still know each other it.

The two friends fastened their skiff to a willow tree, and boarded the quiet silver kingdom, and patiently searched the undergrowth, hollows, tunnels, ditches, ditches, and dry channels.They disembarked again, rowed to the other bank, and searched in this way along the river, while the moon, silently embedded in the cloudless sky, helped them as best it could, though it was so far off; It had to sink down to the ground, and leave them, and once more mystery hung over the fields and the creek. Then slowly began to change.The horizon became clearer, the fields and trees more visible, but in a different, less mysterious atmosphere.A bird chirped suddenly and fell silent; a breeze came and rustled the reeds and cattails.

While the Mole was rowing, the Rat in the stern suddenly sat up straight and listened excitedly.As he watched the bank carefully, the Mole rowed so lightly that the boat could only move forward, and looked at the Rat in amazement. "No more!" sighed the Rat, returning to his seat. "So beautiful, so strange, so new! It ended so quickly, I almost wish I had never heard of it. For it had caused It's just painful, like everything is boring, I just want to hear that voice again, forever. No! It's coming again!" he cried, pricking up his ears again.He was in a trance, and remained silent for a long time, fascinated.

"Now it's disappearing, and I'm starting to lose it," he said shortly afterwards. "Oh, Mole, how beautiful it is! A succession of joys, the soft, clear, joyful call of a distant flute! Such music as I never dreamed of. It is sweet music, but a stronger call! Draw!" Row, Mole! For the music and the call must be for us." The Mole was very surprised, but did as he was told. "I don't hear anything," he said, "I just hear the wind blowing the reeds and the grass and the weeping willows." The Rat didn't answer at all, as if he did hear again.He was absorbed, agitated, trembling, all his mind seized by this new, holy thing, which seized and shook his helpless soul like a powerless but happy infant in its mighty arms.

The Mole kept on paddling silently, and soon they came to where the river diverged, and a long backflow ran aside.The Rat, who had let go of the rudder, moved his head slightly to let the Mole row the boat up the backstream.It was getting brighter, and now they could see the colors of the flowers by the river. "Clearer and nearer," cried the Rat happily, "now you must hear it! Ah... what the hell... I can see you heard it! ’ The gasping Mole stopped rowing, and the stream of merry flute came upon him like a wave, and swept him away, taking hold of him completely. He saw the tears on his companion's cheeks , bowing their heads, understood. For a long moment they stopped there, brushed by the purple daylilies on the shore; The oars were bent. The light kept increasing, but no bird sang as it was wont to do at dawn; all was still but the music of heaven. On either side of them as they slid along, the rich grass of the prairie seemed so fresh and green that morning.Never had they seen roses so bright, or weeping willows so thick, or hydrangeas so fragrant.At this moment, with the murmur of the approaching dam filling their ears, they realized that their trip was coming to an end, and that whatever lay ahead was waiting for them. Broad semi-circular foam, reflecting light and long arches of shimmering green water, this gigantic dam breaks the entire backflow, disturbs the whole calm surface with eddies and streams of foam, and with its majestic and calming The roar drowned out all other sounds.In the midst of the current, in the shining lap of the dam's surf, stood motionless an island fringed with willows and silver birches and alders.It is silent, shy, but full of meaning, and hides all that it has behind a veil until the hour comes when those called and chosen come. Slowly, without hesitation, and with a state of solemn anticipation, the two animals crossed the rough and tumultuous waters, and moored their boat on the flower-studded shore of the island.Silently they went ashore, pushing aside the blossoming and fragrant bushes which carried them to the island, till they stood on a little green meadow surrounded by nature's own fruit trees— - sour apples, wild cherries, wild prickly plums. "This is my dreamland, and this is where the music plays for me," whispered the Rat dreamily. "Here, in this holy place, and here only, we shall find him!" Just then the Mole suddenly felt a great sense of awe, which turned his muscles into water, made his head hang down, and kept his feet immobilized on the ground.It wasn't panic - he felt strangely peaceful and happy indeed - but it was a sense of awe that struck him and took hold of him, he didn't have to look to understand it, and it could only mean that an awesome elf was very, very close up.With difficulty he turned to his friend, who was startled, terrified, and trembling violently beside him. There was still a dead silence in the thick boughs where the birds roosted around them; the light grew brighter. He may never have dared to lift his eyes, but though the flute had stopped now, the call still seemed to dominate him indisputably.Even if death was waiting to strike him at once, he could not look without his dying eyes at what had been hidden all along.Trembling in obedience to this will, he raised his low head; while nature, in all its colours, seemed to wait breathlessly for this impending event, he looked into the eyes of his friend and helper in the twilight of the approaching dawn. he saw the horns bending back, gleaming in the growing daylight; He showed a faint smile; he saw the undulating muscles of an arm lying across his broad chest, and the long soft hand was still holding Pan Shenxiao who had just left his open lips; he saw that he was resting comfortably on the grass the beautiful curve of his hairy legs; at last he saw the plump, plump little otter sleeping peacefully and contentedly between his hooves.Holding his breath, he nervously saw all this clearly in the morning light; he watched, but he was still alive; he was alive, but he was still amazed. "Rat!" he whispered, recovering and trembling. "Are you afraid?" "Afraid?" murmured the Rat, his eyes blazing with indescribable love. "Scared! Scared of him? Oh, never! But... but I'm still... Oh, Mole, I'm afraid!" Then the two animals lay down on the ground and bowed their heads in worship. Suddenly and magnificently, the great golden sun rose above the horizon towards them; the first rays of light shot through the water grass and fell into the eyes of the two animals, dazzled them.By the time they could see clearly again, the phantom was gone, and the air was filled with the song of the birds welcoming the dawn. As they stared blankly, as they grew more and more unspeakably sad, slowly realizing what they had seen and what they had lost, a wayward breeze rose up from the water, tossing the poplars and shaking the dewy The rose, blowing softly and lovingly on their faces, immediately forgot everything because of its gentle blowing.For it is the last and best gift that a well-meaning demigod carefully bestows upon those whom he has shown himself to help, and it is oblivion.Not one iota of dreadful memory should remain and grow to cast a shadow over joy, and a mass of memory would spoil the later life of a little animal rescued from its troubles, and to forget them is to keep them as happy and light as ever. The Mole wiped their eyes, and looked at the Rat, who was looking at him in bewilderment. "Excuse me, what did you say, Rat?" he asked. "I think I'm just saying," replied the Rat slowly, "that it's this place, this place and no other, that we should be able to find him. Look! That's not him, the little fellow!" he exclaimed Run to the sleeping little fat man. But the Mole stood motionless for a moment, thinking.It's like a person suddenly awakened from a beautiful dream, desperately trying to wake up from the dream, but can't think of it anymore, only vaguely feel beautiful, beautiful!Then even that disappeared, and the dreamer had to accept painfully the hard reality of waking and its distress; so the Mole, after a brief struggle with his memory, shook his head sadly, and followed the Rat. up. The Fatty woke up with a squeal of joy, and writhed with delight at the sight of two of his father's friends with whom he used to play.But all of a sudden his face became expressionless, and he lay down and wailed, looking around.It's like a child who fell asleep happily in the arms of his nanny, woke up and found himself lying alone in a strange place, so he searched corners, cabinets, and ran from room to room, silently Feeling more and more disappointed, the little fat man searched the island in the same way, stubborn and unwilling to relax, but in the end he had no choice but to give up, so he sat down and cried bitterly. The Mole hastened to comfort the little animal, but the Rat stayed there, staring suspiciously at some of the hoof-prints deep in the grass. "A . . . very large . . . animal . . . used to be here," he murmured slowly, thoughtfully; he stood there motionless, motionless, his mind strangely disturbed. "Come here, Rat!" the Mole called to him. "Think of poor old Otter, who's waiting in the ford!" The little fat man soon stopped crying when he was promised to sit in Mr. Rat's real boat for a while.The two animals took him to the water's edge, put him in the boat, and seated him securely between them, they rowed down the backflow. By this time the sun was fully out and warming them, the birds were singing loudly, and the flowers were smiling and nodding from the banks on either side, but anyway—thought the two animals—they couldn't compare to what they seemed to be remembering lately. They had seen all kinds of flowers somewhere—only they couldn't remember where. The great river came again, and they turned the bows and went up the river, toward the place where they knew their friend was waiting alone.When they had drawn near the familiar shallows, the Mole pulled the boat up to the shore, and they lifted the fat man out of the boat, put him on the shore, set him up on the towpath, and bade him go, and patted his cheeks. Back bid him a friendly farewell, and rowed the boat to the middle of the river.They watched the little one gleefully swagger down the path until his nose popped up and he went from a waddling walk to a sprinting trot, screaming and writhing at the same time Bodies say hello.They looked up the river and could see the big otter, tense and scowling, springing up from the shallows where he squatted silently and patiently, and could hear his cry of surprise and joy as he came through the willows to the path.Then the Mole pulled the oars hard, turned the boat around, and let the swollen creek carry them away again at will, and their search for the young otter was over. "I feel strangely tired, Rat," said the Mole, leaning listlessly on the oar as the boat drifted away. "A whole night's sleep, you might say; but that's nothing. Half our nights a week are like that at this time of year. No, I just feel like I've been through something very exciting and Terrible, it has just ended; yet nothing in particular has happened." "Or something very astonishing, very marvelous, very beautiful," said the Rat, leaning back and closing his eyes. "I feel exactly as you do, Mole. I'm tired as hell, but not physically. It's a blessing we have the river to carry us home. Feeling the sun again, warm to the bone, isn't it blissful Did it! Listen, the wind is blowing the reeds!" "It's like music... distant music," said the Mole, nodding sleepily. "I think so too," said Gollum the Rat, exhausted and dreamy. "Dancing music...that kind of never-ending rhythmic light music...but there are words in the music...it turns into words, and from words into music...I hear the words every now and then...and then it Once it becomes dance music, and then there is nothing but the soft rustling of the reeds." "You have better hearing than I do," said the Mole sadly. "I can't hear the words." "Let me try to read them to you," said the Rat softly, his eyes still closed. "Now it's words again - light but clear... lest awe be in you... Lest joy turn to trouble...you will see my strength when I help you...but then you will forget!Now the sound of the reeds follows... Forget, forget, they sigh, it fades to a rustle and a whisper.Then the words came back... "To save hands and feet from bruises and cuts... I trigger the trap I put away...you can see me when I let go of the trap...for you will forget! Row closer, Mole, closer to the reeds some! It was hard to hear, and the voice became softer and softer. "Helper and healer, I am glad...Little lost in the damp woods... I found them in it, I bandaged the wound...and made them all forget!Draw nearer, Mole, draw nearer!No, it was useless; the song disappeared again and became the rustling of reeds. " "But what do those words mean?" asked the amazed Mole. "Then I don't know," confessed the Rat, "I'll tell you about them when they come into my ears. what!Now they're back, and this time they're loud and clear!This time it's finally true, unmistakable, simple...passionate...complete..." "Then let me listen too," said the Mole, who had been drowsy under the hot sun, and waited patiently for a few minutes. But there was no answer.He looked up and realized the silence.A very happy smile appeared on the Rat's face, and he still kept an air of listening, but the weary Rat fell asleep.