The thought of it all brought a tingling from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail.
Energized anew, Ragweed stepped boldly along the trail, now and again squeaking out at top voice, “For the world is full of mice, oh!”
CHAPTER 2
Some Advice Is Given
ALL THAT MORNING RAGWEED continued until he reached a split in the pathway. One path went due east. The other headed south. For the first time since he’d left home he had to make a decision as to which direction to go.
Relishing the luxury of making up his mind at leisure, he decided to rest. Then, remembering that he had not eaten that day, he nosed about until he found enough hazelnuts to make himself a lunch. Hazelnuts were Ragweed’s favorite food.
As Ragweed nibbled away, an elderly vole meandered out from behind a bush. The vole had a short tail, large ears, reddish-brown fur on his back, and gray whiskers on his blunt snout. He was also nearsighted, snuffling so intently about the ground that he walked right into Ragweed.
“Oh, my, oh, my,” the vole exclaimed, flustered and embarrassed. “I do beg a thousand pardons. I didn’t see you, young fellow. Really! What’s come over me? Walking into strangers. I fear my eyes are not what they used to be. Do forgive me.”
“No harm done, sir,” Ragweed returned cheerfully. “I’m sprawled where I probably shouldn’t be, an idle wanderer from the Brook. I suppose you’ve heard of it.”
“I’m afraid I haven’t,” the vole said apologetically.
Ragweed, thrilled by the thought that he had already come far enough to be a stranger, said, “That’s even better.” Then he asked, “Are you from around here?”
“Indeed I am,” the vole returned. “I’ve lived in these parts for more years than I’d like to admit. What brings you here, young fellow?”
“I’m off to see the world.”
“Off to see the world, eh?” the vole echoed, yearning and regret mingling in his voice. “Well, it’s a mighty big place, this world.”
“Have you seen it?” Ragweed asked with keen interest.
“Just a tad,” the vole said, making a humble gesture that managed to imply a very great deal more. “Of course, that was when I was younger. Oh, yes, the world is fascinating.”
Ragweed considered the vole with new eyes. Clearly, here was a creature of vast experience. “Sir,” the mouse inquired, “might you know, then, where these two paths lead?”
“I should hope I would,” the vole returned with a touch of pride. “In my time, young fellow, I’ve traveled both. They’ll take you to completely opposite places. This one goes east to a forest. Dimwood Forest, to be precise. A most impressive place. Dark. Strange. Beautiful. Something you should experience. Just watch out for owls,” he added.
“I’m sure I’d like it,” Ragweed said, paying no heed to the warning. “What about the other?”
“The one to the south? It goes to a railway.”
Ragweed blinked. “What’s a . . . railway?”
“Forgive me,” the vole said. “I didn’t mean to presume. A railway is made by humans. You do know about humans?”
“Oh, yes,” Ragweed replied, though he had not in fact actually seen one.
“Well, now, humans make trains. A train sits on a track. That’s to say, two rails allowing it to go places. The whole apparatus is absolutely gigantic. Makes an astonishing noise. Goes at staggering speeds. But if I add that they’re dangerous, I’m putting it mildly.”
“You said humans use these trains for going places,” Ragweed said, fascinated. “What kind of places?”
“Towns. Cities.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what they are either,” Ragweed confessed.
“Oh, my, my—we are young, aren’t we?” the vole said.
Blushing, Ragweed said, “I’m only four months old.”
“You’ll get over that soon enough!” The vole chuckled at his own little joke. “Well now, my young fellow, a town or a city is where great numbers of humans live. As you know, humans build the most amazing nests. Prodigious constructions. Reach the sky, they do. As for a town or a city . . . Well, look at those trees over there. Now use your imagination. Instead of a tree, picture a human’s nest. Multiply that one nest by a thousand, two thousand! No! Twenty thousand! A million! There! You have a city.”
“Oh, wow!” Ragweed cried. “But does anything happen there?”
“Does anything happen!” the vole echoed, paw over his heart. “Young fellow, if you had a year to spare I might begin to tell you stories about cities that would curl your tail. Why, everything happens in cities. Mind, it can be hazardous for creatures like you and me.”
“But . . . exciting?”
“Exciting?” the vole said with a whisper and a wink. “That’s where they invented the word.”
“That sounds like the perfect place for me,” Ragweed said, jumping up. “Thanks for your advice.”
“I’m not aware I was giving any advice,” the vole said wistfully. “Actually, I think you should go to Dimwood Forest first.”
“Why?”
“It’s safer.”
“Next time!” Ragweed shouted, already hurrying down the path that led to the railway.
“Oh, dear,” the vole said as he watched Ragweed scamper away. He had recollected something of great importance he should have told Ragweed. “Young fellow!” he cried out. “If you reach a city, keep on the lookout for cats! Cities are full of them!”
Ragweed, however, was gone. The warning went unheard.
All that afternoon Ragweed hurried along the trail, reaching a deep gully just at dusk. Peering into it he saw something he had never seen before—a railway train. At first Ragweed could do nothing but stare at it, so astonishing was its size. Not only was it amazingly tall, he found it impossible to see either end.
He did see wheels—enormous, shiny steel ones—but they were not turning. Yet Ragweed was quite certain the old vole had said the train went to cities, though he could
