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himself to his natural emotions. Rearing, plunging, backing

steadily, in spite of all the Mole's efforts at his head, and all



the Mole's lively language directed at his better feelings, he

drove the cart backwards towards the deep ditch at the side of



the road. It wavered an instant--then there was a heartrending

crash--and the canary-coloured cart, their pride and their joy,



lay on its side in the ditch, an irredeemable wreck.

The Rat danced up and down in the road, simply transported with



passion. `You villains!' he shouted, shaking both fists, `You

scoundrels, you highwaymen, you--you--roadhogs!--I'll have the



law of you! I'll report you! I'll take you through all the

Courts!' His home-sickness had quite slipped away from him, and



for the moment he was the skipper of the canary-coloured

vessel driven on a shoal by the reckless jockeying of rival



mariners, and he was trying to recollect all the fine and biting

things he used to say to masters of steam-launches when their



wash, as they drove too near the bank, used to flood his parlour-

carpet at home.



Toad sat straight down in the middle of the dusty road, his legs

stretched out before him, and stared fixedly in the direction of



the disappearing motor-car. He breathed short, his face wore a

placid satisfied expression, and at intervals he faintly murmured



`Poop-poop!'

The Mole was busy trying to quiet the horse, which he succeeded



in doing after a time. Then he went to look at the cart, on its

side in the ditch. It was indeed a sorry sight. Panels and



windows smashed, axles hopelessly" target="_blank" title="ad.无希望地,绝望地">hopelessly bent, one wheel off, sardine-

tins scattered over the wide world, and the bird in the bird-cage



sobbing pitifully and calling to be let out.

The Rat came to help him, but their united efforts were not



sufficient to right the cart. `Hi! Toad!' they cried. `Come and

bear a hand, can't you!'



The Toad never answered a word, or budged from his seat in the

road; so they went to see what was the matter with him. They



found him in a sort of a trance, a happy smile on his face, his

eyes still fixed on the dusty wake of their destroyer. At



intervals he was still heard to murmur `Poop-poop!'

The Rat shook him by the shoulder. `Are you coming to help us,



Toad?' he demanded sternly.

`Glorious, stirring sight!' murmured Toad, never offering to



move. `The poetry of motion! The REAL way to travel! The

ONLY way to travel! Here to-day--in next week to-morrow!



Villages skipped, towns and cities jumped--always somebody else's

horizon! O bliss! O poop-poop! O my! O my!'



`O STOP being an ass, Toad!' cried the Mole despairingly.

`And to think I never KNEW!' went on the Toad in a dreamy



monotone. `All those wasted years that lie behind me, I never

knew, never even DREAMT! But NOW--but now that I know, now



that I fully realise! O what a flowery track lies spread before

me, henceforth! What dust-clouds shall spring up behind me as I



speed on my reckless way! What carts I shall fling

carelessly into the ditch in the wake of my magnificent onset!



Horrid little carts--common carts--canary-coloured carts!'

`What are we to do with him?' asked the Mole of the Water Rat.



`Nothing at all,' replied the Rat firmly. `Because there is

really nothing to be done. You see, I know him from of old. He



is now possessed. He has got a new craze, and it always takes

him that way, in its first stage. He'll continue like that for



days now, like an animal walking in a happy dream, quite useless

for all practical purposes. Never mind him. Let's go and see



what there is to be done about the cart.'

A careful inspection showed them that, even if they succeeded in



righting it by themselves, the cart would travel no longer. The

axles were in a hopeless state, and the missing wheel was



shattered into pieces.

The Rat knotted the horse's reins over his back and took him by



the head, carrying the bird cage and its hystericaloccupant in

the other hand. `Come on!' he said grimly to the Mole. `It's



five or six miles to the nearest town, and we shall just have

to walk it. The sooner we make a start the better.'



`But what about Toad?' asked the Mole anxiously, as they set off

together. `We can't leave him here, sitting in the middle of the



road by himself, in the distracted state he's in! It's not safe.

Supposing another Thing were to come along?'



`O, BOTHER Toad,' said the Rat savagely; `I've done with him!'




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