Ant ventures

Anthony Ant did not wait long to see what became of the others in the company. Some of them were creatures that might like to eat Ants, once there was no more rain to make them forget they were hungry. But he soon found that to get over the ground was not a good thing to try to do at present, by any means. It was so full of puddles here and there, and the whole place was still so drippy from so much rain, that he would have to walk maybe miles out of his way in going any distance at all. Then there was the danger of big drops falling on him.

He went back to the log, but not inside. Instead, he climbed up outside and sat on top of Hollow-Log Inn.

It was all pretty forlorn. There was no one nearer to talk to than Mr. Woodchuck down inside the log, and probably he had gone to sleep again. The log was wet and unpleasant, so that Anthony could not sit there long, but had to stand up. In Ant-Hill Manor even wet days like this were not bad at all. Mother Ant read stories to them. They could play in the tool house, and do picture puzzles, and paint in their painting books, and make the phonograph play cheerful tunes, and do seventeen other different things. Never had they been obliged to sit out on logs in a wet world.

The Ant could not even take any interest in eating his lunch, for he was too lonesome to feel hungry. Besides, he would have to stand up to eat, and it would be no fun at all. He did not know how soon he might need food badly when he could not find any to catch, and the little he had left in his basket he thought he’d better save for awhile. So he did not even unstrap his basket, but stood around first on some of his legs and then on some other of his legs, feeling sort of miserable and whiney—the way some children feel when they make that noise that is almost like the cry of a little puppy dog.

All at once the sun came out, and one of the Crickets that had been in Hollow-Log Inn began to crick, crick, crick from some high place near by, and the world seemed a little better. Anthony Ant went to the end of the log and peered over at things, and he saw by looking down at a puddle on the ground that the sky above was blue, for it had given the puddle a blue face.

He was crawling down toward the ground near the puddle, and stepping very carefully around on the dry inside of the entrance of the log, when suddenly Mr. Woodchuck thought he would go out to see the world too. In coming through the entrance—or exit, as it now was to the Woodchuck—he brushed poor Anthony Ant right along with him. The little Ant had only time to clutch tight hold of Mr. Woodchuck’s fur as well as possible, and to trust to luck.

Mr. Woodchuck did not know about the passenger he was carrying, and Anthony Ant was too frightened to try to call to him to stop. So on he went with Mr. Woodchuck, and Mr. Woodchuck headed straight out to the open field where the grass was not so deep, and the weeds were not so tall as near the log. How wet the field was! The Ant luckily was on top of the Woodchuck’s back, and well down in the fur, so he did not get the brushing from the grasses and weeds he would have had on either of Mr. Woodchuck’s sides.

The Woodchuck went in the same direction the Ant wished to go—straight as could be toward the right—and that was something worth while. But out in the middle of the field was one of the entrances of Burrow Hall, and all at once Anthony Ant found himself going down into a hole under a great rock. Something must be done about it that instant if he did not want to get lost in the middle of the earth. He caught at a grass blade bending near enough to reach him, and drew himself up to the stem. Mr. Woodchuck therefore went down into the hole without his passenger, and the Ant was safe and sound very much farther on his way around the world, and also in a good, dry spot where it would be a fine plan for him to stay for the night. By morning it would be dry in the field, so he could travel twice as fast. He sat and swayed on the long grass stem, and fixed his feelers, and scrubbed himself nice and clean, and ate all but just enough for his breakfast in the morning. Then, when the sun went down, he cuddled into the place where one of the blades of grass was joined to the stem, and there he fell fast asleep, without dreaming he was a Pirate, either.

The world was all singing and shining and smelling sweet when he woke in the morning as rested as could be. Oh, but it would be a fine day to travel! He could imagine the other Ants of Ant-Hill Manor getting out their little wheelbarrows from the tool house and starting in for the day’s work after a nice breakfast. A tiny lump came into his throat even on this lovely morning when he felt so brave. Just to think of them all so contented and happy at their work made him a little homesick. He would have been glad to work with them that fine morning, he knew. But he wouldn’t go home yet. No—no, sir-ee, so there! He coughed to show how brave he was. He ate all that remained of his food to show how brave he was, and the breakfast made him feel braver yet.

First of all, he would go hunting food as he so often had done at home. When his lunch basket was well filled, he would show that he could take the whole of Dr. Alexander Beetle Bug’s prescription whether it was good or bad to follow out.

But here the worst thing of all happened. Anthony Ant was too quick in bragging about what he would do. He stepped off too lively on his next Ant Venture. Ants sometimes lose their balance or their footing, you know, and Anthony Ant lost both his balance and his footing at the same time. Down he went to the short grasses below. While a fall like that would not have made a bit of difference to him usually, this time it did for the reason that he landed upon the veranda of a fine, new home a large jumpy Spider had just finished building. That is what the large jumpy Spider built the veranda for. He had made the veranda webby and sticky on purpose. Though he made it for catching flies, he did not in the least object to other insects he might eat.

“Ho, I have you now!” he cried, as he ran out from his house cave back in the clover.

“Oh, please don’t hurt me!” cried Anthony Ant. “I fell down quite by accident. I did not mean to!”

“I can’t help that,” said the Spider. “I’ve got you now, and as soon as I get you tied up I shall take you back into my house and eat you.”

Oh, how poor Anthony Ant cried! He kicked and he screamed, and his feet were more and more tangled in the web all the time.

The Spider was just reaching for him and would have given him a big bite to quiet him until the tying had been done, when a big, buzzy thing pounded down so hard into the web veranda that the large jumpy Spider ran back in a hurry. It was a big Bumblebee, and he was so angry at the way the Spider was treating so small a creature as Anthony Ant that he flew from a clover-blossom feast he was having, and bounced up and down upon the web veranda to show what he thought of such business.

When the Spider saw who he was, there was a fight, I can tell you! Out rushed the Spider with more web ropes and jumped all around the Bumblebee, biting at him and trying to tangle him in the ropes. But the Bumblebee took care to keep his wings out of the web, and he bounced the veranda up and down so hard that he tore it all to pieces, and got out Anthony Ant and pulled him away from the place. Then when he saw how Anthony’s feet were tangled, he helped untangle them. Anthony told him about the dressing case, and the Bumblebee hunted until he found it, and Anthony’s hat and basket too. It was not long before Anthony and the Bumblebee had their bruises and knocks bandaged and dressed with salve and healing things.

“Say,” said the Bumblebee, “that was a close shave, wasn’t it?”

“Oh!” cried Anthony Ant. “I owe you my very life, sir! I never can repay you!”

“Oh, yes you can,” said the Bumblebee with a grin.

“How?” asked the Ant eagerly.

“By coming up to Clover Lodge for tea at four o’clock this afternoon. That is Clover Lodge, yonder. I’ve got to be off to work now, but I always stop at four for a bit of refreshment. It rests me, for you see I’m an old fellow. I’ll say good-by now, but shall hope to see you there on the tip-top blossom at the hour named. Good-by!” And off he bumbled.