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

dream Pertelote discovers the solution for her small community’s problem. See sees small boats in a long flotilla and hears a soft instruction:
Let greater Creatures serve the small
    That Animal on Animal
    Can cross.
    Encourage those who are dismayed,
    Discourage those who would gainsay
    Your call.
    At dawn Pertelote reveals her solution to the Watch-Watcher Weasel, who rises immediately as charged with energy as he was yesterday.
    “Hoopla!” he cries. “Up! Up! Lady Hen, she gots a plan!”
    Difficulties have always delighted the Weasel. And insofar as he can do something about them, he becomes a whirligig of motion.
    Detail by detail Pertelote explains the what-to-do, and detail by detail John yells commands:
    “Mices! Brother Mices, jump on Wolfie’s head! Deery De La Coeur—Squirrelies on your withers! Sistie Coyotes! Go punch your papa!”
    They do. Creatures are on the move.
    But at his daughters’ insistence, Ferric only hides the harder and utters a woebegone “Tssssssssss.”
    Pertelote spreads her wings and sails over to the skinny Coyote. “Your children love you,” she says in his ear. Her voice is husky with kindness. “And would you part from them? I love you too, Ferric, and I will never part from you.”
    “Otters,” John Wesley yells to his dumber cousins. “On accounts of buggar-Otters is gladsome for waters, Lady Hen says to be her float-boards!”
    Pertelote says to the Hens, “Sisters—”
    But the Weasel is a take-charge fellow. He yells, “Chickies!” his stentorian cry causing the Hens to dither in distress.
    Pertelote says, “Fly over the waters.”
    The Weasel yells, “Bustle up your skirtses. Beat your bubble-wings, Chickies. Fly!”
    Pertelote says, “Then land on the waters and walk.”
    The Weasel is about to say the same, when Pertelote’s request strikes him as impossible. He whispers, “Lady Hen, chickies gonna be drownded.”
    Apropos of nothing, as far as the Weasel is concerned, Pertlote says to the Coyote, “I will fly beside you, Ferric. I will be your strength.”
    Then she repeats to the Hens, “Fly up, sisters. Go your limit, then land.”
    The Animals are splashing into the river and swimming—all except for the Hens.
    John Wesley raises his paws like a first-class boxer and shouts, “Boo! Do and do and do for you, and go!” which, of course, is their undoing. Scared of the boisterous champion at their backs, they attempt the impossible. All ten Hens take billabong runs down the banks, thrum their stubby wings, lumber into flight, and fly.
    “Me kidneys!” complains an aging Hen. “Me kidneys!” But she flies till she can fly no more—then falls plump on an Otters’ back.
    For every Hen there is an Otter.
    All ten Hens squeal, made giddy by their feats of derring-do.
    And the whole band raises cheers of jubilation. There is not one Creature who does not cross.

[Six] In Which the Cream-Colored Wolf Discovers Her True Name
[Six] In Which the Cream-Colored Wolf Discovers Her True Name
    The Cream-Colored Wolf wakes after the storm. She cracks an eye and allows herself a peep at the morning. The sky is a high, fine, cloudless and blue. She is lying in a shallow scoop on a nest of black feathers. Her fur is fluffed again and clean. A single boulder humps the ground beside her. Was there? Was there really a storm last night? But the land is moist and her thirst has been satisfied and suddenly the prairie grass is green.
    She notices that the morning sunrays wink off bits of mica in the boulder. The air is unspeakably sweet.
    For an instant a shadow blocks the sun.
    She hears the sound of a trash-can word: “Quork!”
    A Raven drops a branch of gooseberries which land in front of her muzzle. “Quork!"—and he flies away.
    The Cream-Wolf watches the Raven until he is a dot in the sunrise.
    She stands. She reaches her forepaws out as far as she can and stretches. Her tail rises like a flag in the breeze. She pulls her back muscles taught from the neck to