The Adventures of Bobby Coon. Thornton W. BurgessЧитать онлайн книгу.
filled him with dreadful fear and despair. Yes, indeed, it was a bad dream, a very, very bad dream!
II. Bobby Bites His Own Tail
“Oh tell me, some one, if you will
Am I awake or dreaming still?”
So cried Bobby Coon to no one in particular, because no one was there to hear him. Bobby was in a dreadful state of mind. He couldn’t tell for the life of him whether he was awake, or asleep and dreaming, and I cannot think of a much worse state of mind than that, can you?
There was that dreadful dream Bobby had had, the dream of the dreadful giant who had chased him into a hollow log and then beat on that log with a great club, frightening Bobby almost to death, filling his ears with a terrible roaring sound that made his head ache, and sending cold shivers all over him. Bobby was trying to make up his mind to rush out of that hollow log in spite of the dreadful giant, all in his dream you know, when suddenly his eyes flew open and there he was safe in his bed in the hollow chestnut tree which he called his own.
Bobby gave a happy little sigh of relief, it seemed so good to find that dreadful experience only a dream. “Phew!” he exclaimed. “That was a bad, bad dream!” And then right on top of that he gave a little squeal of fear. There was that awful pounding again! Was he still dreaming? Was he awake? For the life of him Bobby couldn’t tell. There was that same dreadful pounding he had heard in the hollow log, but he wasn’t in the hollow log; he was safe at home in his own warm bed. Had he somehow reached home without knowing it, in the strange way that things are done in dreams, and had the dreadful giant followed him? That must be it. It must be that he was still dreaming. He wished that he would wake up.
Bobby closed his eyes as tightly as he knew how for a few minutes. Pound, pound, pound, sounded the dreadful blows. Then he opened his eyes. Surely this was his hollow tree, and certainly he felt very much awake. There was the sunlight peeping in at his doorway high overhead. Yet still those dreadful blows sounded—pound, pound, pound. His head ached still, harder than ever. And with every blow he jumped, and a cold shiver ran over him from the roots of his tail to the tip of his nose.
Never in all his life had Bobby known such a mixed-up feeling. “Is this I or isn’t it I?” he whimpered. “Am I dreaming and think I’m awake, or am I awake and still dreaming’? I know what I’ll do; I’ll bite my tail, and if I feel it I’ll know that I must be awake.”
So Bobby took the tip of his tail in his mouth and bit it gently. Then he wondered if he really did feel it or just seemed to feel it. So he bit it again, and this time he bit harder.
“Ouch!” cried Bobby. “That hurt. I must be awake. I’m sure I’m awake. But if I’m awake, what dreadful thing is happening? Is there a real giant outside pounding on my tree?”
Then Bobby noticed something else. With every blow his house seemed to tremble. At first he thought he imagined it, but when he put his hands against the wall, he felt it tremble. It gave him a horrid sinking feeling inside. He was sure now that he was awake, very much awake. He was sure, too, that something dreadful was happening to his hollow tree, and he couldn’t imagine what it could be. And what is more, he was afraid to climb up to his doorway and look out to see.
III. Bobby’s Dreadful Fright
Poor, poor Bobby Coon. Now he was sure that he was really and truly awake, he almost wished that he hadn’t tried to find out. It would have been some little comfort to have been able to keep his first feeling that maybe it was all a bad dream. But now that he knew positively he was awake, he knew that this terrible pounding, which at first had been part of that bad dream, was also real. The truth is, he could no longer doubt that something terrible was happening to his house, the big hollow chestnut-tree he had lived in so long.
With every blow, and the blows followed each other so fast that he couldn’t count them, the big tree trembled, and Bobby trembled with it. What could it mean? What could be going on outside? He wanted to climb up to his doorway and look out, but somehow he didn’t dare to. He was afraid of what he might see. Yes, Sir, Bobby Coon was afraid to climb up to his doorway and look out for fear he might see something that would frighten him more than he was already frightened, though how he could possibly have been any more frightened I don’t know. Yet all the time it didn’t seem to him that he could stay where he was another minute. No, Sir, it didn’t. He was too frightened to go and too frightened to stay. Now can you think of anything worse than that?
The tree trembled more and more, and by and by it began to do more than tremble; with a dreadful, a very dreadful sinking of his heart, Bobby felt his house begin to sway, that is, move a little from side to side. A new fear drove everything else out of his head—the fear that his house might be going to fall! He couldn’t believe that this could be true, yet he had the feeling that it was so. He couldn’t get rid of it He had lived in that house a long, long time and never in all that long, long time had he once had such a feeling as now possessed him. Many a time had rough Brother North Wind used all his strength against that big chestnut-tree. Sometimes he had made it tremble ever so little, but that was all, and Bobby, curled up in his snug bed, had laughed at rough Brother North Wind. He just couldn’t imagine anything really happening to his tree.
But something was happening now. There wasn’t the smallest doubt about it. The great old tree shivered and shook with every blow. At last Bobby could stand it no longer. He just had to know what was happening, and what it all meant. With his teeth chattering with fright, he crawled up to his doorway and looked down. Badly frightened as he was, what he saw frightened him still more. It frightened him so that he let go his hold and tumbled down to his bed. Of course that didn’t hurt him, because it was soft, and in a minute he was scrambling up to his doorway again.
“What shall I do? What can I do?” whimpered Bobby Coon as he looked down with frightened eyes. “I can’t run and I can’t stay. What can I do? What can I do?”
Bobby Coon was horribly frightened. There was no doubt about it, he was horribly frightened. Have you guessed what it was that he saw? Well, it was Farmer Brown and Farmer Brown’s boy chopping down the big chestnut-tree which had been Bobby’s home for so long. And looking on was Bowser the Hound.
IV. Browser Finds Someone at Home
Now that Bobby Coon knew what it was that had frightened him so, he felt no better than before. In fact, he felt worse. Before, he had imagined all sorts of dreadful things, but nothing that he had imagined was as bad as what he now knew to be a fact. His house, the big hollow chestnut-tree in which he had lived so long and in which he had gone to sleep so happily at the beginning of winter, was being cut down by Farmer Brown’s boy and Farmer Brown himself, and Bowser the Hound was looking on. There was no other tree near enough to jump to. The only way out was down right where those keen axes were at work and where Bowser sat watching. What chance was there for him? None. Not the least chance in the world. At least, that is the way Bobby felt about it. That was because he didn’t know Farmer Brown and Farmer Brown’s boy.
You see, all this time that Bobby Coon had been having such a dreadful, such a very dreadful time, Farmer Brown and Farmer Brown’s boy and Bowser the Hound had known nothing at all about it. Bobby Coon hadn’t once entered the heads of any of them. None of them knew that the big chestnut-tree was Bobby’s home. If Farmer Brown’s boy had known it, I suspect that he would have found some good excuse for not cutting it. But he didn’t, and so he swung his axe with a will, for he wanted to show his father that he could do a man’s work.
Why were they cutting down that big chestnut-tree? Well, you see that tree was practically dead, so Farmer Brown had decided that it could be of use in no way now save as wood for the fires at home. If it were cut down, the young trees springing up around it would have a better chance to grow. It would be better to cut it now than to allow it to stand, growing weaker all the time, until at last it should fall in some great storm and perhaps break down some of the young trees about it.
Now