Ant ventures

Anthony Ant sat down on a small pebble to think about that sign and what it might mean. Was it a sort of side-show cave in there, or was it a real mine that went down into the black, dark earth farther than any Ants ever had dug? Whichever it was, it was a strange thing to come across here in the field. He thought he would wait and see if there were any signs of life about the place.

There were! The signs of life came all too soon. Something pushed him off the pebble so suddenly that he did not know what it was. It was large and soft and dark. He knew that much about how it first seemed. In a second he was standing on all his feet and looking to see what the thing was.

“What’s the matter? Were you looking for a job?” came a deep, soft voice.

“No, sir,” replied Anthony Ant, looking up at what the voice seemed to come from. Before him was a velvety creature like a mouse, maybe, all but its head and nose and eyes, and sort of different about its feet. “I was just thinking about that sign and what it might mean.”

“I’ll tell you that free of charge,” said the voice. “There you see one of the most wonderful mines in the whole world. I live there, and I helped make it, so I ought to know.”

“What do you get out of it?” asked Anthony Ant, for he had seen pictures in the books at home about mines and had heard how gold, and iron, and coal, and that sort of thing came out of them.

“Why,” answered the voice, “I get a home out of it. What more should you want, I’d like to know? If you mean what do I bring out of it, I bring out or push out the earth. I am teaching the little ones how to do it now, so they can be smart when they grow up. They are quick to learn and know so much that I have just put up that sign.”

“But if it is not a real mine where you get metals or minerals to sell, why should you need a sign?” asked the Ant.

“Well,” said the soft, deep voice, “it looks stylish, I think. I don’t know of any other reason.”

“But you haven’t any eyes, have you?” questioned the Ant. “I can’t see any, at least not from here. So how do you know it looks stylish?”

Then the little creature put his head down near Anthony Ant, and showed him such bright little eyes where they did not show much that the brightness made Anthony blink.

“I am a Mole,” said that soft, deep voice, “and I am not so blind as the world thinks. I never could have made so fine a place as Molesworth Hall if I had been really blind, you know. Now, could I?”

“I should be better able to answer that question if I had seen your home inside, but all I’ve seen is the entrance,” replied the Ant.

“That’s so,” said the Mole.

“But,” asked Anthony, “what do you have the word ‘Limited’ on your sign for?”

“It seems to be the style with some big advertisers in the newspapers,” answered the Mole. “That’s the only reason, for when you come right down to the matter there is nothing limited about my home. I could make my halls as big as I chose if I wanted to work long enough. I could tunnel across the whole field if I wished, but ‘Limited’ looks stylish and grand on a sign, I think.”

“But were you expecting others to dig in your mines?” asked Anthony. “You asked me if I was looking for a job, you know.”

“Of course I did,” said Mr. Mole. “Everyone worth while has a job of some sort, and you looked worth while. But you were sitting doing nothing when I found you, so I thought you were out of luck and had lost your job, whatever it was. Though you are pretty small, I could give you something to do to earn your supper at least.”

“But I have my supper in my lunch basket,” said Anthony.

“Let me see it,” demanded Mr. Mole. So the Ant opened his basket.

“Now, look here,” said the Mole, “there isn’t a thing in here that won’t keep all right for tomorrow. So keep it for tomorrow if you are wise, and just buck up—as they say in the newspapers I find blown into this field sometimes—buck up, I say, and be a man, and do a few hours’ work for me, and earn your supper. Save that lunch for the tomorrow that may find you hard up for food that is not always to be had for the wishing.”

“Very well,” agreed the Ant, “and thank you. What is the work?”

“We are running a short gallery through a little section of Molesworth Hall,” said Mr. Mole, “and, though you are small and cannot carry much at a time, the short gallery is near the entrance and you won’t have far to tramp. You look like a good digger, and the earth is soft. Even if you won’t be much of a help to me, I’m glad to offer you a good supper for what you carry out before then.”

“All right,” said the Ant, and followed the Mole into the cave.

Inside, he met Mrs. Mole and the little Moles, and they were kind to him and showed him the wonderful passageways of Molesworth Hall. Then they scurried off to their work, and the Ant began to labor where he was taken by Mr. Mole.

Now Anthony Ant was too battered and sore to feel much like working. He felt lame all over, and the bumps and bruises were pretty bad. But it would never do to let Mr. Mole think him somebody not worth while, so he never rested once from the time he started. Mr. Mole, who, unknown to Anthony Ant, was watching him all the time from around the corner of the main passage, and who had guessed that the Ant had run away from a good home for some foolish reason, had to smile to see how plucky the little chap was.

It was a pretty weary Ant that took out his last load that night and then washed up outside the cave. The dew was already on the grass, and the cool wetness of it felt good when he washed his face and all his hands. When he was clean enough to suit himself, he went in and found Mr. and Mrs. Mole and the little Moles eating supper. They helped him to bits of roots Mrs. Mole had prepared some way or other, and a sip of herb tea rested him a lot. They told him he was welcome to stay all night too, but he thanked them and said he thought he would go a little farther on his way. So they went to the door with him and said good night in their soft, deep voices, and wished him luck, and the last they saw of him, he was looking back and waving. The last he saw of them, they made a happy, contented family picture as they all stood together in the doorway of the Molesworth Deep-Mining Company, Limited.