Stuart Little Read Online Free PDF Page B

sternly.
    “Snowbell won’t touch the
bird,” his mother said. “You go to sleep and forget all about it.” Mrs. Little
opened the window and turned out the light.
    Stuart closed his eyes and
lay there in the dark, but he couldn’t seem to go to sleep. He tossed and turned,
and the bedclothes got all rumpled up.
    He kept thinking about the
bird downstairs asleep in the fern. He kept thinking about Snowbell and about
the way Snowbell’s eyes gleamed. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, he switched
on the light. “There’s just something in me that doesn’t trust a cat,” he
muttered. “I can’t sleep, knowing that Margalo is in danger.”
    Pushing the covers back,
Stuart climbed out of bed. He put on his wrapper and slippers. Taking his bow
and arrow and his flashlight, he tiptoed out into the hall. Everybody had gone
to bed and the house was dark. Stuart found his way to the stairs and descended
slowly and cautiously into the living room, making no noise. His throat hurt
him, and he felt a little bit dizzy.
    “Sick as I am,” he said to
himself, “this has got to be done.”
    Being careful not to make a
sound, he stole across to the lamp by the bookshelf, shinnied up the cord, and
climbed out onto the shelf. There was a faint ray of light from the street lamp
outside, and Stuart could dimly see Margalo, asleep in the fern, her head
tucked under her wing.
    “Sleep dwell upon thine
eyes, peace in thy breast,” he whispered, repeating a speech he had heard in
the movies. Then he hid behind a candlestick and waited, listening and
watching. For half an hour he saw nothing, heard nothing but the faint ruffle
of Margalo’s wings when she stirred in dream. The clock struck ten, loudly, and
before the sound of the last stroke had died away Stuart saw two gleaming
yellow eyes peering out from behind the sofa.
    “So!” thought Stuart. “I
guess there’s going to be something doing after all.” He reached for his bow and
arrow.
    The eyes came nearer. Stuart
was frightened, but he was a brave mouse, even when he had a sore throat. He
placed the arrow against the cord of the bow and waited. Snowbell crept softly
toward the bookshelf and climbed noiselessly up into the chair within easy
reach of the Boston fern where Margalo was asleep. Then he crouched, ready to
spring. His tail waved back and forth. His eyes gleamed bright. Stuart decided
the time had come. He stepped out from behind the candlestick, knelt down,
bent his bow, and took careful aim at Snowbell’s left ear—which was the nearest
to him.
    “This is the finest thing I
have ever done,” thought Stuart. And he shot the arrow straight into the cat’s
ear.
    Snowbell squealed with pain
and jumped down and ran off toward the kitchen.
    “A direct hit!” said Stuart.
“Thank heaven! Well, there’s a good night’s work done.” And he threw a kiss
toward Margalo’s sleeping form.
    It was a tired little mouse
that crawled into bed a few minutes later—tired but ready for sleep at last.
    IX. A Narrow Escape
    Margalo liked it so well at
the Littles’ house she decided to stay for a while instead of returning to the
open country. She and Stuart became fast friends, and as the days passed it
seemed to Stuart that she grew more and more beautiful. He hoped she would
never go away from him.
    One day when Stuart had
recovered from bronchitis he took his new skates and put on his ski pants and
went out to look for an ice pond. He didn’t get far. The minute he stepped out
into the street he saw an Irish terrier, so he had to shinny up an iron gate
and jump into a garbage can, where he hid in a grove of celery.
    While he was there, waiting
for the dog to go away, a garbage truck from the Department of Sanitation drove
up to the curb and two men picked up the can. Stuart felt himself being hoisted
high in the air. He peered over the side and saw that in another instant he and
everything in the can would be dumped into the big truck.
    “If I jump now