The Third Book of the Dun Cow: Peace at the Last Read Online Free PDF

and skids and curls into herself and waits to die.
    Then a swart Bird lands beside her and cries, “Follow me!”

[Five] In Which Pertelote Hatches a Plan
[Five] In Which Pertelote Hatches a Plan
    The Band of Pertelote’s Animals has spread itself along the banks of a wide river. They can see the other side, but the muddy brown water is far too broad for the lesser Creatures to swim it.
    Pertelote sits on the lowest limb of an oak tree. John Wesley leans against the trunk. Both are cudgeling their brains, considering what they ought to do.
    The Mad House of Otter, of course, is wild with joy. To their minds it has been much too long since they’ve been able to toboggan on their bellies, slicking down slopes to splash nose-first into a body of water. They chatter and laugh. They call each other names. They dive like fish and rise like ducks.
    The Otters will have no trouble crossing the muddy brown river.
    Boreas the White Wolf has spent the day running both north and south along the shores of the river. But he hasn’t been able to find ford. Everywhere the current snaggles its banks and runs too deep.
    If the rusty Ferric Coyote could unlock his limbs, he might be able to swim it. Right now he’s hiding in green vegetation, gaping at the terrible waters. Waters are always terrible, and though this river runs ever so slow, it’s water, and terrible. Ferric is hiding for three: for his daughters and himself. But those daughters! That Twill and that Hopsacking! What are they doing? They’re happily dabbling their forepaws in the water. It is this very happiness that nerves the poor Coyote. He has never been able to train them in the dangers of the world.
    So, then: who else can swim? The Doe De La Coeur, but the width would tax her strength. Boreas the White Wolf. He can swim. John Wesley swears that he can too, though he has always abhorred wetness. Least, the Plain Brown Bird—she can fly over mountains if she has to. But not the Brothers Mice. Not the Mr. and Mrs. Cobbs. And definitely, absolutely not the flutter-gutting Chickens!
    Suddenly John Wesley pushes away from the tree and cries, “Lookee!”
    He points.
    Pertelote looks.
    “Is a little Mousey!” John rattles, amazed. “Like is icy-skating!”
    Indeed, there seems to be a small Mouse racing on hind feet over the surface of the river—and not sinking! He cuts a small V behind him. In front of him there darts a Water-Skeeter. The tiny Mouse snatches the Skeeter, swallows it, then zips to shore.
    John Wesley can hardly stand it. He throws himself full tilt down to the river, crying, “Lady Hen! Here’s a what what can trick it! Cross we, cross we over the river!”
    The Weasel skids to a stop before the Mouse and aims an eye in his direction.
    “Little geezer!” he cries.
    The geezer stands still, vibrating.
    “Is John Double-U,” he says by way of introductions, “of the Double-U’s. How-some-ever does tiny little buggar walks on water?”
    Pertelote calls, “John!”
    Just then the Weasel notices the Creature’s back paws. “Itty bitty boat -feet!” he cries. Crouching down till he’s face to face with the Shrew, he says: “Is Mouse’s water-skippings what’s gots John bamboozled. Might-be inchy-little half-Mouse, he tells John the hows and the hooplas of the whats he does?”
    Pertelote, closer now, says, “John!”
    The Shrew bursts into an oration delivered with dramatic gestures:
    “Ticken dee dally twist. Sip fiddle calidity. Skit dis-stichery and dolly-mop!”
    John steps back. “What?” Then in order to make himself the better understood, the Weasel yells. “John! He! Wants! To know! The howsomenesses! And the why-fors…”
    Pertelote is right beside the John Wesley. “John!” she says smartly. “This is no Mouse. He’s a Shrew!”
    But John has been trying to understand the Shrew’s speech. “What is dolly mopses?”
    The Shrew beep-giggles again, turns, and dashes in pretty plinkings across the water.
    That night in a