Читать книгу THORNTON BURGESS Ultimate Collection: 37 Children's Books & Bedtime Stories with Original Illustrations - Thornton Burgess - Страница 103

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Unc' Billy Possum didn't know whether he liked the snow more than he hated it or hated it more than he liked it, just now. Usually he dislikes the snow very much, and doesn't go out in it any more than he has to. But this time the snow had done Unc' Billy a good turn, a very good turn, indeed. Once out of the hen-house, Unc' Billy lost no time in starting for the Green Forest. But it was slow, hard work. You see, the snow was newly fallen and very soft. Of course Unc' Billy sank into it almost up to his middle at every step. He huffed and he puffed and he grunted and groaned. You see Unc' Billy had slept so much through the winter that he was not at all used to hard work of any kind, and he wasn't half way to the Green Forest before he was so tired it seemed to him that he could hardly move, and so out of breath that he could only gasp. It was then that he was sure that he hated the snow more than he liked it, even if it had set him free from the hen-house of Farmer Brown.

Now it never does to let one's wits go to sleep. Some folks call it forgetting, but forgetting is nothing but sleepy wits. And sleepy wits get more people into trouble than anything else in the world. Unc' Billy Possum's wits were asleep when he left Farmer Brown's hen-house. If they hadn't been, he would have remembered this little saying:

The wits that live within my head

Must never, never go to sleep,

For if they should I might forget

And Trouble on me swiftly leap.

But Unc' Billy's wits certainly were asleep. He was so tickled over the idea that he could get out of the hen-house, that he couldn't think of anything else, and so he forgot. Yes, Sir, Unc' Billy forgot! What did he forget? Why, he forgot that that nice, soft snow, which so kindly buried the dreadful traps so that they could do no harm, couldn't be waded through without leaving tracks. Unc' Billy forgot all about that, until he was half way to the Green Forest, and then, as he sat down to rest and get his breath, he remembered.

Unc' Billy looked behind him, and he turned pale. Yes, Sir, Unc' Billy Possum turned pale! There, all the way from Farmer Brown's hen-house, was a broad trail in the smooth white snow, where he had plowed his way through. If Farmer Brown's boy should come out to look at his traps, he would see that track at once, and all he would have to do would be to follow it until it led him to Unc' Billy.

"Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Whatever did Ah leave the hen-house for?" wailed Unc' Billy.

His wits were all wide awake now. It wouldn't do to go back. Farmer Brown's boy would see that he had gone back, and then he would hunt that hen-house through until he found Unc' Billy. No, there was nothing to do but to go on, and trust that Farmer Brown's boy was so snowed in and would be kept so busy shovelling out paths, that he would forget all about looking at his traps. Unc' Billy drew a long breath and began to wade ahead toward the Green Forest.

"If Ah only had snowshoes!" he panted. "If Ah only had snowshoes like Mrs. Grouse."