He had travelled some miles, his horse and he,and he was feeling drowsy in the hot sunshine,when the horse stopped, lowered his head,and began to nibble the grass; and Toad, waking up,just saved himself from falling off by an effort.He looked about him and found he was on a wide common,dotted with patches of gorse and bramble as far as he could see.Near him stood a dingy gipsy caravan,and beside it a man was sitting on a bucket turned upside down,very busy smoking and staring into the wide world.A fire of sticks was burning near by,and over the fire hung an iron pot,and out of that pot came forth bubblings and gurglings,and a vague suggestive steaminess. Also smells--warm,rich, and varied smells--that twined and twisted and wreathed themselves at last into one complete, voluptuous, perfect smell that seemed like the very soul of Nature taking form and appearing to her children, a true Goddess, a mother of solace and comfort. Toad now knew well that he had not been really hungry before. What he had felt earlier in the day had been a mere trifling qualm. This was the real thing at last, and no mistake; and it would have to be dealt with speedily, too, or there would be trouble for somebody or something. He looked the gipsy over carefully, wondering vaguely whether it would be easier to fight him or cajole him. So there he sat, and sniffed and sniffed, and looked at the gipsy; and the gipsy sat and smoked, and looked at him.
Presently the gipsy took his pipe out of his mouth and remarked in a careless way, "Want to sell that there horse of yours?"
Toad was completely taken aback.He did not know that gipsies were very fond of horse-dealing,and never missed an opportunity,and he had not reflected that caravans were always on the move and took a deal of drawing. It had not occurred to him to turn the horse into cash, but the gipsy's suggestion seemed to smooth the way towards the two things he wanted so badly--ready money, and a solid breakfast.
"What?" he said, "me sell this beautiful young horse of mine?O, no; it's out of the question.Who's going to take the washing home to my customers every week?Besides, I'm too fond of him, and he simply dotes on me. "
"Try and love a donkey," suggested the gipsy. "Some people do."
"You don't seem to see," continued Toad,"that this fine horse of mine is a cut above you altogether.He's a blood horse, he is, partly;not the part you see, of course--another part.And he's been a Prize Hackney, too,in his time--that was the time before you knew him,but you can still tell it on him at a glance,if you understand anything about horses. No,it's not to be thought of for a moment. All the same,how much might you be disposed to offer me for this beautiful young horse of mine?"
The gipsy looked the horse over,and then he looked Toad over with equal care,and looked at the horse again. "Shillin' a leg," he said briefly, and turned away,continuing to smoke and try to stare the wide world out of countenance.
"A shilling a leg?" cried Toad. "If you please,I must take a little time to work that out,and see just what it comes to."
He climbed down off his horse, and left it to graze,and sat down by the gipsy, and did sums on his fingers,and at last he said, "A shilling a leg?Why, that comes to exactly four shillings, and no more.O, no; I could not think of accepting four shillings for this beautiful young horse of mine."
"Well," said the gipsy, "I'll tell you what I will do.I'll make it five shillings,and that's three-and-sixpence more than the animal's worth.And that's my last word."
Then Toad sat and pondered long and deeply.For he was hungry and quite penniless,and still some way--he knew not how far--from home,and enemies might still be looking for him.To one in such a situation,five shillings may very well appear a large sum of money.On the other hand, it did not seem very much to get for a horse.But then, again, the horse hadn't cost him anything;so whatever he got was all clear profit.At last he said firmly, "Look here, gipsy!I tell you what we will do; and this is _my_ last word.You shall hand me over six shillings and sixpence,cash down; and further, in addition thereto,you shall give me as much breakfast as I can possibly eat,at one sitting of course,out of that iron pot of yours that keeps sending forth such delicious and exciting smells. In return, I will make over to you my spirited young horse, with all the beautiful harness and trappings that are on him, freely thrown in. If that's not good enough for you, say so, and I'll be getting on. I know a man near here who's wanted this horse of mine for years."
The gipsy grumbled frightfully,and declared if he did a few more deals of that sort he'd be ruined.But in the end he lugged a dirty canvas bag out of the depths of his trouser pocket, and counted out six shillings and sixpence into Toad's paw. Then he disappeared into the caravan for an instant, and returned with a large iron plate and a knife, fork, and spoon. He tilted up the pot, and a glorious stream of hot, rich stew gurgled into the plate. It was, indeed, the most beautiful stew in the world, being made of partridges, and pheasants, and chickens, and hares, and rabbits, and peahens, and guinea-fowls, and one or two other things. Toad took the plate on his lap, almost crying, and stuffed, and stuffed, and stuffed, and kept asking for more, and the gipsy never grudged it him. He thought that he had never eaten so good a breakfast in all his life.
When Toad had taken as much stew on board as he thought he could possibly hold,he got up and said good-bye to the gipsy,and took an affectionate farewell of the horse;and the gipsy, who knew the riverside well,gave him directions which way to go,and he set forth on his travels again in the best possible spirits.He was, indeed, a very different Toad from the animal of an hour ago.The sun was shining brightly,his wet clothes were quite dry again,he had money in his pocket once more,he was nearing home and friends and safety, and,most and best of all, he had had a substantial meal,hot and nourishing, and felt big, and strong,and careless, and self-confident.
As he tramped along gaily,he thought of his adventures and escapes,and how when things seemed at their worst he had always managed to find a way out; and his pride and conceit began to swell within him."Ho, ho!" he said to himself,as he marched along with his chin in the air,"what a clever Toad I am!There is surely no animal equal to me for cleverness in the whole world!My enemies shut me up in prison, encircled by sentries,watched night and day by warders;I walk out through them all,by sheer ability coupled with courage.They pursue me with engines, and policemen,and revolvers; I snap my fingers at them, and vanish,laughing, into space. I am, unfortunately,thrown into a canal by a woman fat of body and very evil-minded. What of it?I swim ashore, I seize her horse, I ride off in triumph,and I sell the horse for a whole pocketful of money and an excellent breakfast!Ho, ho!I am The Toad, the handsome, the popular,the successful Toad!" He got so puffed up with conceit that he made up a song as he walked in praise of himself, and sang it at the top of his voice, though there was no one to hear it but him. It was, perhaps, the most conceited song that any animal ever composed.
"The world has held great Heroes,As history-books have showed;But never a name to go down to fame Compared with that of Toad!
"The clever men at Oxford Know all that there is to be knowed.But they none of them know one half as much As intelligent Mr. Toad!
"The animals sat in the Ark and cried,Their tears in torrents flowed. Who was it said,'There's land ahead?' Encouraging Mr. Toad!