Chapter XVIII
THE RESCUE
Presently Poor Cecco felt some one nudging him. It was Jensina, who had crept softly round from the other side of the tree.
“Listen,” she whispered. “Listen, I have an idea!”
“What is it?” Poor Cecco whispered back.
Jensina, standing there on tiptoe, looked strangely excited. Her eyes shone in the moonlight.
“You know the rats? Do you remember what the Iron Grenadier said? Oh, Poor Cecco, suppose we get the rats to gnaw the tree and let Tubby out?”
“Jensina!” he exclaimed. “It’s wonderful! But they could never gnaw this tree through!”
“Rats can do anything,” Jensina said.
“They aren’t here.”
“They are. Sh-sh! I never told you, but Gladys saw them. The Easter Chicken told me. They are sitting on the front porch.”
“Have you got the Tooth?”
“It’s here,” said Jensina. “I didn’t dare leave it in the house.” She showed him the mysterious object, in its silver-paper wrapping. Poor Cecco gazed at it for a moment in silence.
“Oh, Jensina, aren’t you afraid? Let me go!” he entreated.
“No,” replied Jensina firmly. “I took the Tooth, and it’s I who must bargain with them. But you may keep quite near me,” she added.
Brave as she was, Jensina’s heart went thump—thump, as she advanced along the path towards the house. Hastily Poor Cecco had warned the others of her plan, and while he walked beside her they followed in a body, clinging to one another for protection, yet thrilled with curiosity to see what was going to happen.
And now they had reached the last patch of open moonlight between the lilac bush and the dark shadow of the porch. Here Jensina paused, while Poor Cecco whispered his last entreaties.
“Now, do be careful, Jensina! Remember what the Grenadier told you. Make them promise everything first, and don’t make a muddle of it!”
“Do you think I’m an idiot?” she demanded.
These words, so characteristic of Jensina’s brave spirit, did much to restore his confidence. He stood back, as she bade him, and alone Jensina strode forth into the patch of moonlight.
Immediately, from the porch shadow, the two rats came forward to meet her. Poor Cecco and Bulka recognised them at once; they were the two policemen rats who had followed them all along. They looked bigger and fiercer than ever. On they came, their whiskers twitching, their hind legs stretched behind, and within a few inches of Jensina they paused, sat up, and waited.
Jensina began to speak in the rat language, slowly at first, and then more rapidly. The rats nodded. Jensina pointed down the garden. The rats nodded again. She raised her hand, and the watchers could see distinctly the silver-paper shining in the moonlight.
The rats saw it too; one of them took a step forward, but with a swift gesture Jensina warned him back. Still holding the Tooth, she repeated, very slowly and distinctly, every word that she had said before, pausing every now and then to think whether she had left anything out.
The rats nodded once more, and now their faces were pleased and friendly. The fattest rat bowed. Then, while Poor Cecco fairly held his breath with suspense he came forward, and stretching out his paw politely took from Jensina’s hand the Tooth. Placing it in his mouth, he made one leap, and where he went does not matter, for he vanishes from this story forever, and the tooth with him.
Instantly there was a scuffling and squeaking. From every bush, from every patch of shadow, rats appeared. Grey rats, brown rats, old and young, dozens and dozens of them. Bulka gave a squeal of fright, but this time the rats paid no attention to him. Straight down the garden path they poured, scattering the toys in their course, over the parsley bed, right to the old willow, and by the time the toys had pulled themselves together and hurried back, they were already hard at work gnawing a hole in the side of the tree.
“Look!” Jensina cried, clapping her hand. “They’re cutting a doorway! Aren’t they clever? I told you they could do anything!”
The rats were in fact working in a circle, clinging with their feet to the bark while they gnawed. Soon the sawdust began to fall in a powdery heap that grew rapidly larger.
“Jensina!” Bulka cried. “How can I ever thank you!”
Jensina indeed was the heroine of the moment. Even the dolls smiled and tried to make up for the mean way they had acted. How they had misjudged her! If only, Gladys thought, she had known beforehand what an important person Jensina really was!
Meantime Anna, always timid, had been so alarmed by the sudden flood of rats that she ran away up the side path, straight towards the onion bed. Staring up at the sky as always, she never saw Poor Cecco’s trap until she had stumbled right on it. The stick came down with a whack, one corner of Anna’s green meadow sank into the hole Poor Cecco had so carefully dug, and stuck fast; there she stayed, tilted perilously sidewise, snivelling with fear and pain and ringing her bell loudly for help.
This time the Lion heard her. For all that he was a Lion, the nearness of those rats, and their long white teeth, made him strangely uncomfortable inside, and he was only too glad of any excuse to move away.
Tenderly he helped Anna out of the pit, and dried her tears, and together they stood in the moonlight side by side.
“If you would only flee with me to the jungle, dear Anna,” the Lion murmured for the hundred and first time, “this sort of thing wouldn’t happen!”
“I’m always fleeing,” returned Anna pettishly, for her back still smarted where the stick had hit it, “and look what comes of it! Even my green meadow is no longer safe nowadays! Not but what one might as well be in the jungle and have done with it,” she added rather more graciously, “with all those nasty rats about!”
And bending her head to simper at the Lion, she released it rather too suddenly, producing a loud and prolonged “baa-a-a!” which startled even herself.
“Your voice is like music,” the Lion whispered, gazing at her adoringly.
And Anna simpered again.
The carpenter rats had worked so hard that by now they had nearly bitten through the tree. The toys stood round, breathless with excitement, while the sawdust fell faster
THE PEACE TREATY
The leader of the rats held out a folded yellow paper.
“Sign on the dotted line, please,” he said. “And here’s wishing you and the young gentleman every happiness!”
and faster, and at last the section of bark, round which they had been gnawing, began to tremble.
Bulka, who had disappeared, came running up, carrying the blue beads which he had just fetched from the toy-cupboard.
And now the rats stopped working, wiped their foreheads, and drew back. The leader, clinging with his paws, gave one last bite, and the bark fell outwards, leaving a neat arched doorway through which, after a moment’s hushed suspense, Tubby herself walked proudly forth, bearing in one paw the scarlet jacket and in the other the sky-blue trousers trimmed with braid.
“Bulka!” cried Tubby.
“Tubby!” cried Bulka.
And they fell in each other’s arms. ······· The leader of the rats came up to Jensina, holding out a folded yellow paper which he drew from his breast pocket.
“Sign on the dotted line, please!” he said.
She wrote her name in large letters: Jensina.
“Thank you,” said the rat, glancing at it. “And if you ever need another little job done, remember we give prompt service and are always willing to oblige.”
The second policeman rat also came forward and shook hands.
“A fine run you give us, young lady,” he said, “but we don’t hold no grudge for that, now that all’s friendly-like between us, as you may say. So bygones is bygones, and here’s wishing you and the young gentleman every happiness!”
Jensina glanced hastily at Poor Cecco, but he had not heard; he was talking to Tubby.
“Thank you very much!” she said. “But you are quite mistaken; we are not even engaged!”
“Well, you never know your luck!” returned the rat, smiling broadly, and he touched his forehead and moved away.
Harlequin gave a sudden cry: “There’s Murrum!”
Murrum was still crouched on the limb above them, gazing down in fury and switching his tail. It was this black tip, moving in the moonlight, which had caught Harlequin’s eye.
“Aha!” cried the rats. “We’ll soon settle that!”
And with a mighty whoop they began to scamper up the willow trunk. Murrum did not wait to meet them; he dropped to the ground, his ears laid back and his fur bristling, and made off over the parsley bed, the rats in glad pursuit.
“They can’t really hurt him,” said Jensina. “They only want to give him a good fright.”
Bulka had hung the blue beads solemnly round Tubby’s neck. He stood now, beaming with happiness, while she carefully measured the little jacket and trousers against him. They were exactly right!
“Oh, Tubby!” he whispered. “Where did you get these lovely clothes?”
“Aren’t they nice?” she returned proudly. “I bought them in Tubbyland!”
