THE FIFTEENTH CHAPTERMaking New Clothes
“Idon’tunderstand it at all,” John Dolittle muttered. “What reason at least can the moth who brought us here have for keeping out of our way?”
“His reasons may not be his own,” murmured Polynesia.
“What do you mean?” asked the Doctor.
“Well,” said she, “others may be keeping him—and the rest, away from us.”
“You mean the Moon Man?” said John Dolittle.
But to this Polynesia made no reply and the subject was dropped.
“That isn’t the thing that’s bothering me so much,” said Chee-Chee.
There was a pause. And before he went on I know that all of us were quite sure what was in his mind.
“It’s our getting back home,” he said at last. “Getting here was done for us by these moon folks—for whatever reason they had. But we’d stand a mighty poor chance of ever reaching the Earth again if they’re going to stand off and leave us to ourselves to get back.”
Another short spell of silence—during which we all did a little serious and gloomy thinking.
“Oh, well,” said the Doctor, “come, come! Don’t let’s bother about the stiles till we reach them. After all we don’t know for certain that these—er—whoever it is—are definitely unfriendly to us. They may have reasons of their own for working slowly. You must remember that we are just as strange and outlandish to them as they and their whole world are to us. We mustn’t let any idea of that kind become a nightmare. We have only been here, let’s see, not much over two weeks. It is a pleasant land and there is lots to be learned. The Vegetable Kingdom is clearly well disposed towards us. And if we give them time I’m sure that the—er—others will be too, in the end.”
getting tall“ ‘Tommy, you seem to be getting enormously tall’ ”
“ ‘Tommy, you seem to be getting enormously tall’ ”
Another matter which came up about this time was the effect of moon food on ourselves. Polynesia was the first to remark upon it.
“Tommy,” said she one day, “you seem to be getting enormously tall—and fat, aren’t you?”
“Er—am I?” said I. “Well, Ihadnoticed my belt seemed a bit tight. But I thought it was just ordinary growing.”
“And the Doctor too,” the parrot went on. “I’ll swear he’s bigger—unless my eyesight is getting queer.”
“Well, we can soon prove that,” said John Dolittle. “I know my height exactly—five feet two and a half. I have a two-foot rule in the baggage. I’ll measure myself against a tree right away.”
When the Doctor had accomplished this he was astonished to find that his height had increased some three inches since he had been on the Moon. Of what my own had been before I landed, I was not so sure; but measurement made it too a good deal more than I had thought it. And as to my waist line, there was no doubt that it had grown enormously. Even Chee-Chee, when we came to look at him, seemed larger and heavier. Polynesia was of course so small that it would need an enormous increase in her figure to make difference enough to see.
height had increased“His height had increased some three inches”
“His height had increased some three inches”
But there was no question at all that the rest of us had grown considerably since we had been here.
“Well,” said the Doctor, “I suppose it is reasonable enough. All the vegetable and insect world here is tremendously much larger than corresponding species in our own world. Whatever helped them to grow—climate, food, atmosphere, air pressure, etc.—should make us do the same. There is a great deal in this for the investigation of biologists and physiologists. I suppose the long seasons—or almost no seasons at all, you might say—and the other things which contribute to the long life of the animal and vegetable species would lengthen our lives to hundreds of years, if we lived here continually. You know when I was talking to the Vampire Lilies the other day they told me that even cut flowers—which with them would mean of course only blossoms that were broken off by the wind or accident—live perfectly fresh for weeks and even months—provided they get a little moisture. That accounts for the moon-bells which the moth brought down with him lasting so well in Puddleby. No, we’ve got to regard this climate as something entirely different from the Earth’s. There is no end to the surprises it may spring on us yet. Oh, well, I suppose we will shrink back to our ordinary size when we return home. Still I hope we don’t grow too gigantic. My waistcoat feels most uncomfortably tight already. It’s funny we didn’t notice it earlier. But, goodness knows, we have had enough to keep our attention occupied.”
It had been indeed this absorbing interest in all the new things that the Moon presented to our eyes that had prevented us from noticing our own changed condition. The following few days, however, our growth went forward at such an amazing pace that I began seriously to worry about it. My clothes were literally splitting and the Doctor’s also. Finally, taking counsel on the matter, we proceeded to look into what means this world offered of making new ones.
Luckily the Doctor, while he knew nothing about tailoring, did know something about the natural history of those plants and materials that supply clothes and textile fabrics for Man.
“Let me see,” said he one afternoon when we had decided that almost everything we wore had become too small to be kept any longer: “Cotton is out of the question. The spinning would take too long, even if we had any, to say nothing of the weaving. Linen? No, likewise.—I haven’t seen anything that looked like a flax plant. About all that remains is root-fiber, though heaven help us if we have to wear that kind of material next to our skins! Well, we must investigate and see what we can find.”
With the aid of Chee-Chee we searched the woods. It took us several days to discover anything suitable, but finally we did. It was an odd-looking swamp tree whose leaves were wide and soft. We found that when these were dried in the proper way they kept a certain pliability without becoming stiff or brittle. And yet they were tough enough to be sewn without tearing. Chee-Chee and Polynesia supplied us with the thread we needed. This they obtained from certain vine tendrils—very fine—which they shredded and twisted into yarn. Then one evening we set to work and cut out our new suits.
family of Robinson Crusoes“ ‘We look like a family of Robinson Crusoes’ ”
“ ‘We look like a family of Robinson Crusoes’ ”
“Better make them large enough,” said the Doctor, waving a pair of scissors over our rock worktable. “Goodness only knows how soon we’ll outgrow them.”
We had a lot of fun at one another’s expense when at length the suits were completed and we tried them on.
“We look like a family of Robinson Crusoes,” said John Dolittle. “No matter: they will serve our purpose. Any port in a storm.”
For underwear we cut up all we had and made one garment out of two or three. We were afraid as yet to try our new tailoring next the skin. Luckily we only had to provide for a very mild climate.
“Now what about footwear?” said I when I had my coat and trousers on. “My shoes are all split across the top.”
“That part is easy,” said Chee-Chee. “I know a tree in the jungle which I found when hunting for fruits. The bark strips off easily and you can cut it into sandals that will last quite a while. The only hard part will be plaiting thongs strong enough to keep them in place on your feet.”
He guided us to the tree he had spoken of and we soon had outfitted ourselves with footgear which would last us at least a week.
“Good!” said the Doctor. “Now we need not worry about clothes for a while anyway and can give our attention to more serious matters.”
THE SIXTEENTH CHAPTERMonkey Memories of the Moon
Itwas when we were on our way to visit still another new kind of plant that the subject of the Moon’s early history came up again in conversation. The Doctor had heard of a “whispering vine” which used, as a method of conversation, the rattling or whispering of its leaves.
“Do you remember, Chee-Chee?” the Doctor asked, “if your grandmother ever spoke, in her stories of very ancient times, of any peculiar or extraordinary plants or trees?”
“I don’t think so, Doctor,” he replied. “My grandmother in her talks of the Time Before There Was a Moon kept pretty much to animals and people. She hardly ever mentioned the trees or vegetable world, except to say of this country or that, that it was heavily wooded, or bare and desert. Why?”
“Well, of course in my mind there is no doubt that the Moon was once a part of the Earth, as many scientists believe. And if so I am wondering why we do not see more plants and trees of our own home kinds here.”
“Well, but we have, Doctor,” said Polynesia. “How about the Asparagus Forests?”
“Quite so,” said the Doctor. “There have been many that reminded one of earthly species in their shapes, even if they have grown into giants here. But this speech among plants and trees—and other evidences of social advance and development in the Vegetable Kingdom—is something so established and accepted here I am all the time wondering if something like it had not started on the Earth long ago—say in the Days Before There Was a Moon. And it was merely because our naturalists were not quick enough to—er—catch on to it, that we supposed there was no means of communication among flowers and trees.”
let me think“‘Let me think,’ said Chee-Chee”
“‘Let me think,’ said Chee-Chee”
“Let me think,” said Chee-Chee, and he held his forehead tightly with both hands.
“No,” he said after a while. “I don’t recall my grandmother’s speaking of things like that at all. I remember in her story of Otho Bludge, the pre-historic artist, that she told us about certain woods he used to make handles for his flint chisels and other tools and household implements. She described the wood, for instance, that he used to make bowls out of for carrying water in. But she never spoke of trees and plants that could talk.”
It was about midday and we had halted for lunch on our excursion in search of the Whispering Vines we had been told of. We were not more than two or three hours’ walk from our old base camp. But that, with the speed so easy in moon marching, means a much greater distance than it does on the Earth. From this camp where the Doctor had set up his apparatus for his special botanical studies, we had now for nearly a week been making daily expeditions in search of the various new species that the Vanity Lilies had described for us. But we always got back before nightfall. Well, this noon the Doctor was leaning back, munching a large piece of yellow yam—a vegetable we got from the edges of the jungle and which we had found so nourishing we had made it almost our chief article of diet.
“Tell me, Chee-Chee,” said he: “what was the end of that story about Otho Bludge the pre-historic artist? It was a most fascinating tale.”
piece of yellow yam“Leaning back munching a piece of yellow yam”
“Leaning back munching a piece of yellow yam”
“Well, I think I have told you,” said Chee-Chee, “pretty nearly all there was to tell. In the Days Before There Was a Moon, as Grandmother always began, Otho Bludge was a man alone, a man apart. Making pictures on horn and bone with a stone knife, that was his hobby. His great ambition was to make a picture of Man. But there was no one to draw from, for Otho Bludge was a man alone. One day, when he wished aloud for some one to make a picture from, he saw this beautiful girl—Pippiteepa was her name—kneeling on a rock waiting for him to make a portrait of her. He made it—the best work he ever did, carved into the flat of a reindeer’s antler. About her right ankle she wore a string of blue stone beads. When the picture was finished she started to disappear again into the mountains’ evening mist, as mysteriously as she had come. Otho called to her to stay. She was the only human being he had ever seen besides his own image in the pools. He wanted her company, poor Otho Bludge, the carver of horn, the man apart. But even as she passed into the twilight forever she cried out to him that she could not stay—for she was of the Fairy Folk and not of his kin. He rushed to the rock where she had knelt; but all he found was the string of blue stone beads which she had worn about her ankle. Otho, broken-hearted, took them and bound them on his own wrist where he wore them night and day, hoping always that she would come back.
“There is nothing more. We youngsters used to pester my grandmother for a continuance of the tale. It seemed so sad, so unsatisfying, an ending. But the old lady insisted that that was the end. Not long after apparently Otho Bludge, the carver of horn and the man apart, just disappeared, completely, as though the Earth had swallowed him up.”
“Humph!” muttered the Doctor. “Have you any idea when?”
“No,” said the monkey. “You see, even my grandmother’s ideas of time and place in these stories she told us were very hazy. She had only had them handed down to her by her parents and grandparents, just as she passed them on to us. But I am pretty sure it was around the time of the Great Flood. Grandmother used to divide her stories into two periods: those belonging to The Days Before There Was a Moon and those that happened after. The name of Otho Bludge the artist only came into those before.”
“I see,” said the Doctor thoughtfully. “But tell me: can you recall anything your grandmother said about the time of the change—I mean, when the one period left off and the other began?”
“Not a very great deal,” said Chee-Chee. “It was the same when we questioned her about the Flood. That that event had taken place, there was no doubt; but, except for a few details, very little seemed to have been handed down as to how it came about, or of what was going on on the Earth at the time, or immediately after it. I imagine they were both great catastrophes—perhaps both came together—and such confusion fell upon all creatures that they were far too busy to take notes, and too scattered afterwards to keep a very clear picture in their minds. But I do remember that my grandmother said the first night when the Moon appeared in the sky some of our monkey ancestors saw a group of men kneeling on a mountain-top worshiping it. They had always been sun-worshipers and were now offering up prayers to the Moon also, saying it must be the Sun’s Wife.”
“But,” asked the Doctor, “did not Man know that the Moon must have flown off from the Earth?”
“That is not very clear,” said Chee-Chee. “We often questioned my grandmother on this point. But there were certainly some awful big gaps in her information. It was like a history put together from odd bits that had been seen from different sides of the Earth and filled in by gossip and hearsay generations after. It seems that to begin with the confusion was terrible. Darkness covered the Earth, the noise of a terrible explosion followed and there was great loss of life. Then the sea rushed into the hole that had been made, causing more havoc and destruction still. Man and beast slunk into caves for shelter or ran wild across the mountains, or just lay down and covered their eyes to shut out the dreadful vision. From what Monkey History has to relate, none lived who had actually seen the thing take place. But that I have always doubted. And much later there was a regular war among mankind when human society had pulled itself together again sufficiently to get back to something like the old order.”
“What was the war about?” asked the Doctor.
terrible explosion“A terrible explosion followed”
“A terrible explosion followed”
“Well, by that time,” said Chee-Chee, “Man had multiplied considerably and there were big cities everywhere. The war was over the question: Was the Moon a goddess, or was she not? The old sun-worshipers said she was the wife or daughter of the Sun and was therefore entitled to adoration. Those who said the Moon had flown off from the flanks of the Earth had given up worshiping the Sun. They held that if the Earth had the power to shoot off another world like that, thatitshould be adored, as the Mother Earth from which we got everything, and not the Sun. They said it showed the Earth was the center of all things, since the Sun had never shot off children. Then there were others who said that the Sun and the new Earth should be adored as gods—and yet others that wanted all three, Sun and Earth and Moon, to form a great triangle of Almighty Power. The war was a terrible one, men killing one another in thousands—greatly to the astonishment of the Monkey People. For to us it did not seem that any of the various parties reallyknewanything for certain about the whole business.”
“Dear, dear,” the Doctor muttered as Chee-Chee ended. “The first religious strife—the first of so many. What a pity!—Just as though it mattered to any one what his neighbor believed so long as he himself led a sincere and useful life and was happy!”
THE SEVENTEENTH CHAPTERWe Hear of “The Council”
Thisexpedition on the trail of the Whispering Vines proved to be one of the most fruitful and satisfactory of all our excursions.
When we finally arrived at the home of this species, we found it a very beautiful place. It was a rocky gulch hard by the jungle, where a dense curtain of creepers hung down into a sort of pocket precipice with a spring-fed pool at the bottom. In such a place you could imagine fairies dancing in the dusk, wild beasts of the forest sheltering, or outlaws making their headquarters.
With a squawk Polynesia flew up and settled in the hanging tendrils that draped the rock wall. Instantly we saw a general wave of movement go through the vines and a whispering noise broke out which could be plainly heard by any ears. Evidently the vines were somewhat disturbed at this invasion by a bird they did not know. Polynesia, a little upset herself, flew back to us at once.
“Shiver my timbers!” said she in a disgruntled mutter. “This country would give a body the creeps. Those vines actually moved and squirmed like snakes when I took a hold of them.”
“They are not used to you, Polynesia,” laughed the Doctor. “You probably scared them to death. Let us see if we can get into conversation with them.”
Here the Doctor’s experience with the Singing Trees came in very helpfully. I noticed as I watched him go to work with what small apparatus he had brought with him that he now seemed much surer of how to begin. And it was indeed a surprisingly short time before he was actually in conversation with them, as though he had almost been talking with them all his life.
rocky gulch“It was a rocky gulch”
“It was a rocky gulch”
Presently he turned to me and spoke almost the thought that was in my mind.
“Stubbins,” he said, “the ease with which these plants answer me would almost make me thinkthey have spoken with a man before! Look, I can actually make responses with the lips, like ordinary human speech.”
He dropped the little contrivance he held in his hands and hissing softly through his teeth he gave out a sort of whispered cadence. It was a curious combination between some one humming a tune and hissing a conversational sentence.
Usually it had taken John Dolittle some hours, occasionally some days, to establish a communication with these strange almost human moon trees good enough to exchange ideas with them. But both Chee-Chee and I grunted with astonishment at the way they instantly responded to his whispered speech. Swinging their leafy tendrils around to meet the breeze at a certain angle, they instantly gave back a humming, hissing message that might have been a repetition of that made by the Doctor himself.
“They say they are glad to see us, Stubbins,” he jerked out over his shoulder.
“Why, Doctor,” I said, “this is marvelous! You got results right away. I never saw anything like it.”
“They have spoken with a man before,” he repeated. “Not a doubt of it. I can tell by the way they—Good gracious, what’s this?”
He turned and found Chee-Chee tugging at his left sleeve. I have never seen the poor monkey so overcome with fright. He stuttered and jibbered but no intelligible sounds came through his chattering teeth.
“Why, Chee-Chee!” said the Doctor. “What is it?—What’s wrong?”
“Look!”—was all he finally managed to gulp.
He pointed down to the margin of the pond lying at the foot of the cliff. We had scaled up to a shelf of rock to get nearer to the vines for convenience. Where the monkey now pointed there was clearly visible in the yellow sand of the pool’s beach two enormous foot-prints such as we had seen by the shores of the lake.
“The Moon Man!” the Doctor whispered.—“Well, I was sure of it—that these vines had spoken with a man before. I wonder—”
“Sh!” Polynesia interrupted. “Don’t let them see you looking. But when you get a chance glance up towards the left-hand shoulder of the gulch.”
Both the Doctor and I behaved as though we were proceeding with our business of conversing with the vines. Then pretending I was scratching my ear I looked up in the direction the parrot had indicated. There I saw several birds. They were trying to keep themselves hidden among the leaves. But there was no doubt that they were there on the watch.
As we turned back to our work an enormous shadow passed over us, shutting off the light of the sun. We looked up, fearing as any one would, some attack or danger from the air. Slowly a giant moth of the same kind that had brought us to this mysterious world sailed across the heavens and disappeared.
on the watch“There was no doubt that they were on the watch”
“There was no doubt that they were on the watch”
A general silence fell over us all that must have lasted a good three minutes.
“Well,” said the Doctor at length, “if this means that the Animal Kingdom has decided finally to make our acquaintance, so much the better. Those are the first birds we have seen—and that was the first insect—since our moth left us. Curious, to find the bird life so much smaller than the insect. However, I suppose they will let us know more when they are ready. Meantime we have plenty to do here. Have you a notebook, Stubbins?”
“Yes, Doctor,” said I. “I’m quite prepared whenever you are.”
Thereupon the Doctor proceeded with his conversation with the Whispering Vines and fired off questions and answers so fast that I was kept more than busy booking what he said.
It was indeed, as I have told you, by far the most satisfactory inquiry we had made into the life of the Moon, animal or vegetable, up to that time. Because while these vines had not the almost human appearance of the Vanity Lilies, they did seem to be in far closer touch with the general life of the Moon. The Doctor asked them about this warfare which we had heard of from the last plants we had visited—the struggle that occurred when one species of plant wished for more room and had to push away its intruding neighbors. And it was then for the first time we heard about the Council.
conversation with the vines“Proceeded with his conversation with the vines”
“Proceeded with his conversation with the vines”
“Oh,” said they, “you mustn’t get the idea that one species of plant is allowed to make war for its own benefit regardless of the lives or rights of others. Oh, dear, no! We folk of the Moon have long since got past that. There was a day when we had constant strife, species against species, plants against plants, birds against insects, and so on. But not any more.”
“Well, how do you manage?” asked the Doctor, “when two different species want the same thing?”
“It’s all arranged by the Council,” said the vines.
“Er—excuse me,” said the Doctor. “I don’t quite understand. What council?”
“Well, you see,” said the vines, “some hundreds of years ago—that is of course well within the memory of most of us, we—”
“Excuse me again,” the Doctor interrupted. “Do you mean that most of the plants and insects and birds here have been living several centuries already?”
“Why, certainly,” said the Whispering Vines. “Some of course are older than others. But here on the Moon we consider a plant or a bird or a moth quite young if he has seen no more than two hundred years. And there are several trees, and a few members of the Animal Kingdom too, whose memories go back to over a thousand years.”
“You don’t say!” murmured the Doctor. “I realized of course that your lives were much longer than ours on the Earth. But I had no idea you went as far back as that. Goodness me!—Well, please go on.”
“In the old days, then, before we instituted the Council,” the vines continued, “there was a terrible lot of waste and slaughter. They tell of one time when a species of big lizard overran the whole Moon. They grew so enormous that they ate up almost all the green stuff there was. No tree or bush or plant got a chance to bring itself to seeding-time because as soon as it put out a leaf it was gobbled up by those hungry brutes. Then the rest of us got together to see what we could do.”
species of big lizard“A species of big lizard overran the Moon”
“A species of big lizard overran the Moon”
“Er—pardon,” said the Doctor. “But how do you mean, got together? You plants could not move, could you?”
“Oh, no,” said the vines. “We couldn’t move. But we could communicate with the rest—take part in conferences, as it were, by means of messengers—birds and insects, you know.”
“How long ago was that?” asked the Doctor.—“I mean for how long has the animal and vegetable world here been able to communicate with one another?”
“Precisely,” said the vines, “we can’t tell you. Of course some sort of communication goes back a perfectly enormous long way, some hundreds of thousands of years. But it was not always as good as it is now. It has been improving all the time. Nowadays it would be impossible for anything of any importance at all to happen in our corner of the Moon without its being passed along through plants and trees and insects and birds to every other corner of our globe within a few moments. For instance we have known almost every movement you and your party have made since you landed in our world.”
“Dear me!” muttered the Doctor. “I had no idea. However, please proceed.”
“Of course,” they went on, “it was not always so. But after the institution of the Council communication and cooperation became much better and continued to grow until it reached its present stage.”
THE EIGHTEENTH CHAPTERThe President
The Whispering Vinesthen went on to tell the Doctor in greater detail of that institution which they had vaguely spoken of already, “The Council.” This was apparently a committee or general government made up of members from both the Animal and Vegetable Kingdoms. Its main purpose was to regulate life on the Moon in such a way that there should be no more warfare. For example, if a certain kind of shrub wanted more room for expansion, and the territory it wished to take over was already occupied by, we’ll say, bullrushes, it was not allowed to thrust out its neighbors without first submitting the case to the Council. Or if a certain kind of butterfly wished to feed upon the honey of some flower and was interfered with by a species of bee or beetle, again the argument had to be put to the vote of this all-powerful committee before any action could be taken.
This information explained a great deal which had heretofore puzzled us.
“You see, Stubbins,” said the Doctor, “the great size of almost all life here, the development of intelligence in plant forms, and much more besides, could not possibly have come about if this regulation had not been in force. Our world could learn a lot from the Moon, Stubbins—the Moon, its own child whom it presumes to despise! We have no balancing or real protection of life. With us it is, and always has been, ‘dog eat dog.’ ”
The Doctor shook his head and gazed off into space to where the globe of our mother Earth glowed dimly. Just so had I often seen the Moon from Puddleby by daylight.
globe of the Earth“Where the globe of the Earth glowed dimly”
“Where the globe of the Earth glowed dimly”
“Yes,” he repeated, his manner becoming of a sudden deeply serious, “our world that thinks itself so far advanced has not the wisdom, the foresight, Stubbins, which we have seen here. Fighting, fighting, fighting, always fighting!—So it goes on down there with us. . . . The ‘survival of the fittest’! . . . I’ve spent my whole life trying to help the animal, the so-called lower, forms of life. I don’t mean I am complaining. Far from it. I’ve had a very good time getting in touch with the beasts and winning their friendship. If I had my life over again I’d do just the same thing. But often, so often, I have felt that in the end it was bound to be a losing game. It is this thing here, this Council of Life—of life adjustment—that could have saved the day and brought happiness to all.”
“Yes, Doctor,” said I, “but listen: compared with our world, they have no animal life here at all, so far as we’ve seen. Only insects and birds. They’ve no lions or tigers who have to hunt for deer and wild goats to get a living, have they?”
“True, Stubbins—probably true,” said he. “But don’t forget that that same warfare of species against species goes on in the Insect Kingdom as well as among the larger carnivora. In another million years from now some scientist may show that the war going on between Man and the House Fly to-day is the most important thing in current history.—And besides, who shall say what kind of a creature the tiger was before he took to a diet of meat?”
John Dolittle then turned back to the vines and asked some further questions. These were mostly about the Council; how it worked; of what it was composed; how often it met, etc. And the answers that they gave filled out a picture which we had already half guessed and half seen of Life on the Moon.
When I come to describe it I find myself wishing that I were a great poet, or at all events a great writer. For this moon-world was indeed a land of wondrous rest. Trees that sang; flowers that could see; butterflies and bees that conversed with one another and with the plants on which they fed, watched over by a parent council that guarded the interests of great and small, strong and weak, alike—the whole community presented a world of peace, goodwill and happiness which no words of mine could convey a fair idea of.
“One thing I don’t quite understand,” said the Doctor to the vines, “is how you manage about seeding. Don’t some of the plants throw down too much seed and bring forth a larger crop than is desirable?”
“That,” said the Whispering Vines, “is taken care of by the birds. They have orders to eat up all the seed except a certain quantity for each species of plant.”
“Humph!” said the Doctor. “I hope I have not upset things for the Council. I did a little experimental planting myself when I first arrived here. I had brought several kinds of seed with me from the Earth and I wanted to see how they would do in this climate. So far, however, the seeds have not come up at all.”
The vines swayed slightly with a rustling sound that might easily have been a titter of amusement.
“You have forgotten, Doctor,” said they, “that news travels fast in the Moon. Your gardening experiments were seen and immediately reported to the Council. And after you had gone back to your camp every single seed that you had planted was carefully dug up by long-billed birds and destroyed. The Council is awfully particular about seeds. It has to be. If we got overrun by any plant, weed or shrub all of our peaceful balance would be upset and goodness knows what might happen. Why, the President—”
The particular vines which were doing the talking were three large ones that hung close by the Doctor’s shoulder. In a very sudden and curious manner they had broken off in the middle of what they were saying like a person who had let something slip out in conversation which had been better left unsaid. Instantly a tremendous excitement was visible throughout all the creepers that hung around the gulch. You never saw such swaying, writhing, twisting and agitation. With squawks of alarm a number of brightly colored birds fluttered out of the curtain of leaves and flew away over the rocky shoulders above our heads.
long-billed birds“Every single seed was carefully dug up by long-billed birds”
“Every single seed was carefully dug up by long-billed birds”
“What’s the matter?—What has happened, Doctor?” I asked as still more birds left the concealment of the creepers and disappeared in the distance.
“I’ve no idea, Stubbins,” said he. “Some one has said a little too much, I fancy. Tell me,” he asked turning to the vines again: “Who is the President?”
“The President of the Council,” they replied after a pause.
“Yes, that I understand,” said the Doctor. “But what, who, is he?”
For a little there was no answer, while the excitement and agitation broke out with renewed confusion among the long tendrils that draped the rocky alcove. Evidently some warnings and remarks were being exchanged which we were not to understand.
At last the original vines which had acted as spokesmen in the conversation addressed John Dolittle again.
“We are sorry,” they said, “but we have our orders. Certain things we have been forbidden to tell you.”
“Who forbade you?” asked the Doctor.
But from then on not a single word would they answer. The Doctor made several attempts to get them talking again but without success. Finally we were compelled to give it up and return to camp—which we reached very late.
“I think,” said Polynesia, as the Doctor, Chee-Chee and I set about preparing the vegetarian supper, “that we sort of upset Society in the Moon this afternoon. Gracious, I never saw such a land in my life I—And I’ve seen a few. I suppose that by now every bumblebee and weed on the whole globe is talking about the Whispering Vines and the slip they made in mentioning the President.President!Shiver my timbers! You’d think he were St. Peter himself! What are they making such a mystery about, I’d like to know?”
“We’ll probably learn pretty soon now,” said the Doctor, cutting into a huge melon-like fruit. “I have a feeling that they won’t think it worthwhile to hold aloof from us much longer.—I hope not anyway.”
more birds“Still more birds left the concealment of the creepers”
“Still more birds left the concealment of the creepers”
“Me too,” said Chee-Chee. “Frankly, this secrecy is beginning to get under my skin. I’d like to feel assured that we are going to be given a passage back to Puddleby. For a while, anyway, I’ve had enough of adventure.”
“Oh, well, don’t worry,” said the Doctor. “I still feel convinced that we’ll be taken care of. Whoever it was that got us up here did so with some good intention. When I have done what it is that’s wanted of me, arrangements will be made for putting us back on the Earth, never fear.”
“Humph!” grunted Polynesia, who was cracking nuts on a limb above our heads. “I hope you’re right. I’m none too sure, myself—No, none too sure.”
THE NINETEENTH CHAPTERThe Moon Man
Thatnight was, I think, the most disturbed one that we spent in the whole course of our stay on the Moon. Not one of us slept soundly or continuously. For one thing, our growth had proceeded at an alarming and prodigious rate; and what bedding we had (we slept in that mild climate with the blankets under us instead of over us) had become absurdly short and insufficient for our new figures. Knees and elbows spilled over the sides and got dreadfully sore on the hard earth. But besides that discomfort, we were again conscious throughout the whole night of mysterious noises and presences. Every one of us seemed to be uneasy in his mind. I remember waking up one time and hearing the Doctor, Chee-Chee and Polynesia all talking in their sleep at the same time.
Hollow-eyed and unrested we finally, at daybreak, crawled out of our various roosts and turned silently to the business of getting breakfast. That veteran campaigner Polynesia was the first to pull herself together. She came back from examining the ground about the camp with a very serious look on her old face.
“Well,” said she, “if there’s any one in the Moon whohasn’tbeen messing round our bunks while we slept I’d like to know who it is.”
“Why?” asked the Doctor. “Anything unusual?”
“Come and see,” said the parrot and led the way out into the clearing that surrounded our bunks and baggage.
her old face“With a very serious look on her old face”
“With a very serious look on her old face”
Well, we were accustomed to finding tracks around our home, but this which Polynesia showed us was certainly something quite out of the ordinary. For a belt of a hundred yards or more about our headquarters the earth and sand and mud was a mass of foot-prints. Strange insect tracks, the marks of enormous birds, and—most evident of all—numberless prints of that gigantic human foot which we had seen before.
“Tut, tut!” said the Doctor peevishly. “They don’t do us any harm anyway. What does it matter if they come and look at us in our sleep? I’m not greatly interested, Polynesia. Let us take breakfast. A few extra tracks don’t make much difference.”
We sat down and started the meal.
But John Dolittle’s prophecy that the Animal Kingdom would not delay much longer in getting in touch with us was surprisingly and suddenly fulfilled. I had a piece of yam smeared with honey half-way to my mouth when I became conscious of an enormous shadow soaring over me. I looked up and there was the giant moth who had brought us from Puddleby! I could hardly believe my eyes. With a graceful sweep of his gigantic wings he settled down beside me—a battleship beside a mouse—as though such exact and accurate landings were no more than a part of the ordinary day’s work.
We had no time to remark on the moth’s arrival before two or three more of the same kind suddenly swept up from nowhere, fanned the dust all over us with their giant wings and settled down beside their brother.
Next, various birds appeared. Some species among these we had already seen in the vines. But there were many we had not: enormous storks, geese, swans and several others. Half of them seemed little bigger than their own kind on the Earth. But others were unbelievably large and were colored and shaped somewhat differently—though you could nearly always tell to what family they belonged.
Again more than one of us opened his mouth to say something and then closed it as some new and stranger arrival made its appearance and joined the gathering. The bees were the next. I remembered then seeing different kinds on the Earth, though I had never made a study of them. Here they all came trooping, magnified into great terrible-looking monsters out of a dream: the big black bumble bee, the little yellow bumble bee, the common honey bee, the bright green, fast-flying, slender bee. And with them came all their cousins and relatives, though there never seemed to be more than two or three specimens of each kind.
unbelievably large“Others were unbelievably large”
“Others were unbelievably large”
I could see that poor Chee-Chee was simply scared out of his wits. And little wonder! Insects of this size gathering silently about one were surely enough to appall the stoutest heart. Yet to me they were not entirely terrible. Perhaps I was merely taking my cue from the Doctor who was clearly more interested than alarmed. But besides that, the manner of the creatures did not appear unfriendly. Serious and orderly they seemed to be gathering according to a set plan; and I felt sure that very soon something was going to happen which would explain it all.
And sure enough, a few moments later, when the ground about our camp was literally one solid mass of giant insects and birds, we heard a tread. Usually a football in the open air makes little or no sound at all—though it must not be forgotten that we had found that sound of any kind traveled much more readily on the Moon than on the Earth. But this was something quite peculiar. Actually it shook the ground under us in a way that might have meant an earthquake. Yet somehow oneknewit was a tread.
Chee-Chee ran to the Doctor and hid under his coat. Polynesia never moved, just sat there on her tree-branch, looking rather peeved and impatient but evidently interested. I followed the direction of her gaze with my own eyes for I knew that her instinct was always a good guide. I found that she was watching the woods that surrounded the clearing where we had established our camp. Her beady little eyes were fixed immovably on a V-shaped cleft in the horizon of trees away to my left.
It is curious how in those important moments I always seemed to keep an eye on old Polynesia. I don’t mean to say that I did not follow the Doctor and stand ready to take his orders. But whenever anything unusual or puzzling like this came up, especially a case where animals were concerned, it was my impulse to keep an eye on the old parrot to see how she was taking it.
Now I saw her cocking her head on one side—in a quite characteristic pose—looking upward towards the cleft in the forest wall. She was muttering something beneath her breath (probably in Swedish, her favorite swearing language) but I could not make out more than a low peevish murmur. Presently, watching with her, I thought I saw the trees sway. Then something large and round seemed to come in view above them in the cleft.
It was now growing dusk. It had taken, we suddenly realized, a whole day for the creatures to gather; and in our absorbed interest we had not missed our meals. One could not be certain of his vision. I noticed the Doctor suddenly half rise, spilling poor old Chee-Chee out upon the ground. The big round thing above the tree-tops grew bigger and higher; it swayed gently as it came forward and with it the forest swayed also, as grass moves when a cat stalks through it.
Any minute I was expecting the Doctor to say something. The creature approaching, whatever—whoever—it was, must clearly be so monstrous that everything we had met with on the Moon so far would dwindle into insignificance in comparison.
And still old Polynesia sat motionless on her limb muttering and spluttering like a fire-cracker on a damp night.
Very soon we could hear other sounds from the oncoming creature besides his earth-shaking footfall. Giant trees snapped and crackled beneath his tread like twigs under a mortal’s foot. I confess that an ominous terror clutched at my heart too now. I could sympathize with poor Chee-Chee’s timidity. Oddly enough though at this, the most terrifying moment in all our experience on the Moon, the monkey did not try to conceal himself. He was standing beside the Doctor fascinatedly watching the great shadow towering above the trees.