How the Whale Became Read Online Free PDF Page B

the best I can do.’
    ‘What’s this!’ cried Torto. ‘But it’s horrible!’
    ‘Take it or leave it,’ said God, and walked away.
    Torto examined the skin. It was tough, rough, and stiff.
    ‘It’s like a coconut,’ he said. ‘With holes in it.’
    And so it was. Only it was shiny. When he tried it on, he found it quite snug. It had only one disadvantage . He could move only very slowly in it.
    ‘What’s the hurry?’ he said to himself then. ‘When it comes to moving, who can move faster than me?’
    And he laughed. Suddenly he felt delighted. Away he went to where the animals were still running their races.
    As he came near to them, he began to think that perhaps his skin was a little rough and ready. But he checked himself:
    ‘Why should I dress up for them?’ he said. ‘This rough old thing will do. The races are the important thing.’
    Tiger lowered his notice and stared in dismay as Torto swaggered past him. All the animals were now turning and staring, nudging each other, and turning and staring.
    ‘That’s a change, anyway,’ thought Torto.
    Then, as usual, he entered for all the races.
    The animals began to talk and laugh among themselves as they pictured Torto trying to run in his heavy new clumsy skin.
    ‘He’ll look silly, and then how we’ll laugh.’ And they all laughed.
    But when he took his skin off at the starting-post, their laughs turned to frowns.
    He won all the races, then climbed back into his skin to collect the prizes. He strutted in front of all the animals.
    ‘Now it’s my turn to be snobbish,’ he said to himself.
    Then he went home, took off his skin, and slept sweetly. Life was perfect for him.
    This went on for many years. But though the animals would now speak to him, they remembered what he had been. That didn’t worry Torto, however. He became very fond of his skin. He began to keep it on at night when he came home after the races. He began to do everything in it, except actually race. He crept around slowly, smiling at the leaves, letting the days pass.
    There came a time when there were no races for several weeks. During all this time Torto never took his skin off once. Until, when the first race came round at last, he found he could not take his skin off at all, no matter how he pushed and pulled. He was stuck inside it. He strained and squeezed and gasped, but it was no use. He was stuck.
    However, he had already entered for all the races, so he had to run.
    He lined up, in his skin, at the start, alongside Hare, Greyhound, Cheetah and Ostrich. They were all great runners, but usually he could beat the lot of them easily. The crowd stood agog.
    ‘Perhaps,’ Torto was thinking, ‘my skin won’tmake much difference. I’ve never really tried to run my very fastest in it.’
    The starter’s pistol cracked, and away went Greyhound , Hare, Cheetah and Ostrich, neck and neck. Where was Torto?
    The crowd roared with laughter.
    Torto had fallen on his face and had not moved an inch. At his first step, cumbered by his stiff, heavy skin, he had fallen on his face. But he tried. He climbed back on to his feet and made one stride, slowly, then a second stride, and was just about to make a third when the race was over and Cheetah had won. Torto had moved not quite three paces. How the crowd laughed!
    And so it was with all the races. In not one race did Torto manage to make more than three steps, before it was over.
    The crowd was enjoying itself. Torto was weeping with shame.
    After the last race, he turned to crawl home. He only wanted to hide. But though the other animals had let him go off alone when he had the prizes, now they came alongside him, in a laughing, mocking crowd.
    ‘Who’s the slowest of all the creatures?’ they shouted.
    ‘Torto is!’
    ‘Who’s the slowest of all the creatures?’
    ‘Torto is!’ – all the way home.
    After that, Torto tried to keep himself out of sight, but the other animals never let him rest. Wheneverany of them chanced