The Wind In The Willows – A Bedtime Story For Kids-Pt 6

It’s Sleep Story time again with a classic story about the friendship and adventures of four special animals Mole, Rat, Toad and Badger. The book is called “The Wind in the Willows” and it was written by Kenneth Grahame. This story was requested by an Insight Timer listener. Let’s continue the adventure now with part 5 and let’s start enjoying our journey to learn about friendship, adventure and the gift of helping others. This chapter is “The Wild Wood”. It gets a little scary for Mole, but Ratty comes to the rescue and all is well.

Music from Dreamland - Aakash Gandhi

Transcript

Hi, It's Stefania and we're back again with part six of the Wind in the Willows. In the last episode, The mole had gone into the wild wood and it was quite a bit scary, But he was rescued by Rat and Rat was telling him, You really shouldn't do this by yourself because you don't know how to go into the wild wood yet. And the mole was just so happy that the Rat found him, That he began to feel bolder and more himself again. Now then, Said the Rat presently, We really must pull ourselves together and make a start for home while there's still a little light left. It will never do to spend the night here, You understand. Too cold for one thing. Dear Ratty, Said the poor mole, I'm dreadfully sorry but I'm simply dead beat and that's a solid fact. You must let me rest here a while longer and get my strength back if I'm to get home at all. Oh, All right, Said the good-natured Rat, Rest away. It's pretty nearly pitch dark now anyhow and there ought to be a bit of a moon later. So the mole got well into the dry leaves and stretched himself out and presently dropped off into sleep, Though of a broken and tumbled sort. While Rat covered himself up too as best as he might for warmth and lay patiently waiting with a pistol in his paw. When at last the mole woke up, Much refreshed and in his usual spirits, The Rat said, No then, I'll just take a look outside and see if everything's quiet, Then we really must be off. He went to the entrance of their retreat and put his head out. Then the mole heard him saying quietly to himself, Hello, Hello, Here is a go. What's up Ratty? Asked the mole, Snow is up, Replied the Rat briefly, Or rather down, It's snowing hard. The mole came and crouched beside him and looking out saw the wood that had been so dreadful to him in quite a changed aspect. Holes, Hollows, Pools, Pitfalls and other black menaces to the wayfarer were vanishing fast and a gleaming carpet of fairy was swinging up everywhere. It looked too delicate to be trodden on by rough feet. A fine powder filled the air and caressed the cheek with a tingle in his touch and the black holes of the trees showed up in a light that seemed to come from below. Well, Well, Can't be helped, Said the Rat after pondering. We must make a start and take our chances, I suppose. The worst of it is, I don't know exactly where we are and now the snow makes everything look so very different. It did indeed. The mole would not have known that it was the same wood. However, They set out bravely and took the line that seemed most promising, Holding on to each other and pretending with invincible cheeriness that they recognized an old friend in every fresh tree that grimly and silently greeted them or saw openings, Gaps or paths with a familiar turn in them in the monotony of white space and black tree trunks that refused to vary. An hour or two later, They had lost all count of time, They pulled up, Dispirited, Weary and hopelessly at sea and sat down on a fallen tree trunk to recover their breath and consider what was to be done. They were aching with fatigue and bruised with tumbles. They had fallen into several holes and got wet through. The snow was getting so deep that they could hardly drag their little legs through it and the trees were thicker and more like each other than ever. There seemed to be no end to this wood and no beginning and no difference in it and worst of all, No way out. We can't sit here very long, Said the rat. We shall have to make another push for it and do something or other. The cold is too awful for anything and the snow will soon be too deep for us to wade through. He peered about him and considered. Look here, He went on, This is what occurs to me. There's a sort of dell down here in front of us where the ground seems all hilly and bumpy and humpy. We'll make our way down into that and try and find some sort of shelter, A cave or a hole with a dry floor to it, Out of the snow and the wind and there we'll have a good rest before we try again. But we're both of us pretty dead beat. Besides, The snow may leave off or something may turn up. So once more they got on their feet and struggled down into the dell where they hunted about for a cave or some corner that was dry and a protection from the keen wind and the whirling snow. They were investigating one of the bits the rat has spoken of when suddenly the mole tripped and fell forward on his face with a squeal. Oh, My leg, He cried. Oh, My poor shin. And he sat up on the snow and nursed his leg in both of his front paws. Poor old mole, Said the rat kindly. You don't seem to be having much luck today, Do you? Let's have a look at the leg. Yes. He went going down on his knees to look. You've cut your shin, Sure enough. Wait till I get my handkerchief and I'll tie it up for you. I must have tripped over a hidden branch or a stump, Said the mole miserably. Oh, My, Oh, My. It's a very clean cut, Said the rat, Examining again attentively. That was never done by a branch or a stump. Looks as if it was made by a sharp edge of something in metal. Funny. He pondered a while and examined the humps and slopes that surrounded them. Well, Never mind. What done it, Said the mole, Forgetting his grammar and his pain. It hurts just the same, Whatever done it. But the rat, After carefully tying up the leg with his handkerchief, Had left him and was busy scraping in the snow. He scratched and shoveled and explored, All four legs working busily, While the mole waited impatiently, Remarking at intervals, Oh, Come on, Rat. Suddenly the rat cried, Hooray, And then hooray, And felt executing a feeble jig in the snow. What have you found, Ratty? Asked the mole, Still nursing his leg. Come and see, Said the delighted rat as he jigged on. The mole hobbled up to the spot and had a good look. Well? He said at last, Slowly. I see. It right enough. Seen the same sort of thing before lots of times. Familiar object. I call it a door scraper. Well, What of it? Why dance jigs around a door scraper? But you don't understand what it means, You dull-witted animal, Cried the rat impatiently. Of course I see what it means, Replied the mole. It simply means that some very careless and forgetful person has left his door scraper lying about in the middle of the wildwood. Just where it's sure to trip everybody up. Very thoughtless of him. I call it. When I get home, I shall go and complain about it to somebody or other. See if I don't. Oh, Dear. Oh, Dear, Cried the rat in despair at his obtuseness. Here, Stop arguing and come and scrape. And he set to work again and made the snow fly in all directions around him. After some further toil, His efforts were rewarded and a very shabby door mat lay exposed to view. There! What did I tell you? Exclaimed the rat in great triumph. Absolutely nothing whatever, Replied the mole with perfect truthfulness. Well now, He went on, You seem to have found another piece of domestic litter, Done for and thrown away. And I suppose you're perfectly happy. Better go ahead and dance your jig around that if you've got to and get it over with. And then perhaps we can go on and not waste any more time over rubbish heaps. Can we eat a doormat or sleep under a doormat or sit on a doormat and sledge home over the snow on it, You exasperating rodent? What do you mean to say, Cried the excited rat, That this doormat doesn't tell you anything? Really, Rat, Said the mole quite pettishly. I think we've had enough of this folly. Whoever heard of a doormat telling anyone anything, They simply don't do it. They're not that sort at all. Doormats know their place. Now look here, You thick-headed beast, Replied the rat really angry. This must stop. Not another word. Let's scrape. Scrape and scratch and dig and hunt around, Especially on the sides of the hummocks if you want to sleep dry and warm tonight, For it's our last chance. The rat attacked a snowbank beside them with ardor, Probing with his cudgel everywhere and then digging with fury. And the mole scraped busily too, More to oblige the rat than for any other reasons, For his opinion was that his friend was getting lightheaded. Some ten minutes hard work and the point of the rat's cudgel struck something that sounded hollow. He worked till he could get a paw through and feel, Then called to the mole to come and help him. Hard at it the two animals went till at last the result of their labor stood full in view of the astonished and hitherto incredulous mole. In the side of what had seemed to be a snowbank stood a solid-looking little door painted a dark green, An iron bell pull hung by the side and below it on a small grass plate, Neatly engraved in square capital letters they could read by the aid of the moonlight, Mr. Badger. The mole fell backwards on the snow from sheer surprise and delight. Rat, He cried in penitence, You're a wonder, A real wonder, That's what you are, I see it all now. You argued it out step by step and that wise head of yours from the very moment that I fell and cut my shin and you looked at the cut and at once your majestic mind said to itself, Door scraper, And then you turned to and found a very door scraper that done it. Did you stop there? No, Some people would have been quite satisfied but not you, Your intellect went on working, Let me only just find the doormat, Says you to yourself and my theory is proved. And of course you found your doormat, You're so clever, I believe you could find anything you liked. Now, Says you, That doormat exists, As plain as if I saw it, There's nothing remains to be done but to find it. Well, I've read about that sort of thing in books but I've never come across it in real life, You ought to go where you'll be properly appreciated, You're simply wasted here among us fellows, If only I had your head ready. But as you haven't, Interrupted the rat rather unkindly, I suppose you're going to sit on the snow all night and balk, Get up at once and hang on to that bell pole you see there and ring hard, As hard as you can while I hammer. While the rat attacked the door with his stick, The mole sprang up at the bell pole, Clutched it and swung there, Both feet well off the ground and from quite a long way off, They could faintly hear a deep toned bell respond. Wow, What's happening here? Have they found Badger? And what is Badger gonna think about them banging on his door? We'll find out in the next part of the story, The Wind in the Willows. That's all for now, Be good, Bye-bye.