Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH Read Online Free PDF

behind them. It looked like a thick piece of rope, a long piece, maybe twenty feet. No. It was stiffer than rope. It was electric cable, the heavy, black kind used for outdoor wiring and strung on telephone poles. The rats were hauling it laboriously through the grass, inching it along in the direction of a very large wild rosebush in the far corner of the yard. Mrs Frisby quickly guessed where they were taking it, though she could not guess why. In that rosebush, concealed and protected by dense tangles of fiercely sharp thorns, was the entrance to a rat hole. All the animals knew about it and were careful to stay away.
    But what would rats want with such a long piece of wire? Mrs Frisby could not imagine. Even more curious, how did they dare to pull it across the yard in broad daylight when the cat was right there? The rats were bigger than Mrs Frisby, and could be, when necessary, dangerous fighters, but they were no match for Dragon.
    She watched them for quite a long time. It was obvious that they knew exactly what they were doing, and they looked as well drilled as a group of soldiers. They had about twenty-five yards to go to reach the rosebush; as if at a signal (which, however, she was too far away to hear), they would all pull together, moving the wire about a foot. Then they would pause, rest, and heave again. It was about twenty minutes before the first rat disappeared into the bush. A little later the last bit of wire disappeared behind them like a thin black snake, and Mrs Frisby climbed down from the asparagus bush.
    All that time the cat had slept on.
     
     

A Favour from Jeremy
     

     
     
    In her worry about Moving Day, in watching the
A
. tractor, the cat, and finally the rats, Mrs Frisby had forgotten that she had set out originally to get some corn for supper. Now she remembered it, so instead of continuing to her house she turned towards the far corner of the garden and the stump at the edge of the woods beyond. She was a little tired after her dash from the cat, so she walked along slowly, feeling the warmth of the sun and the smell of the breeze.
    This mild breeze, carrying the moist essence of early spring, caused a dead leaf to flutter here and there, and across the garden near the fence it moved something that sparkled in the sunlight. This caught the corner of Mrs Frisby's eye; she glanced at it, saw that it was only a bit of tin foil (or aluminium foil) blown from somewhere, and she looked away again. Then she looked back, for at that moment a black object plummeted from the sky, and she recognized her friend Jeremy the crow.
    A thought crossed Mrs Frisby's mind. She changed direction again, and, moving more quickly, ran across the earth to where Jeremy stood. He was hopping around the shiny piece of foil, eyeing it from one direction and another.
    What had occurred to Mrs Frisby was that although Jeremy was not the brightest of animals she had met, and though he was young, he knew things and places she did not, and one had to begin somewhere. As she approached him, he had picked up the foil in his beak and was spreading his wings to fly off.
    'Wait, please,' she called.
    He turned, folded his wings, and then replaced the foil carefully on the ground.
    'Hello,' he said.
    'You remember me?'
    'Of course. You saved me from the cat.' Then he added. 'What do you think of this piece of foil?'
    Mrs Frisby looked at it without much interest.
    'It's just a piece of foil,' she said. 'It's not very big.'
    'True. But it's shiny - especially when the sun strikes it just so.'
    'Why are you so interested in shiny things?'
    'Well, really, I'm not. At least not very. But I have a friend who likes them, so when I see one I pick it up.'
    'I see. That's very thoughtful. And would the friend be female?'
    'As a matter of fact, yes. She is. How did you know?'
    'Just a guess,' said Mrs Frisby. 'Do you remember saying once that if I needed help, I might ask you?'
    'I do. Any time. Just ask for Jeremy. Any of the crows