Part 27 (1/2)

”Oh, of course not,” said Silly Will, gulping hard. ”I certainly wouldn't depend on a vegetable. That would be too ridiculous. If the frost should kill all the vegetables, it would make no difference to me!” Nevertheless in his heart he felt unhappy and a little frightened at the thought of the coming winter. But still he didn't understand.

Silly people never do understand.

He walked on down the road saying to himself, ”I'll go order my winter wood anyway. I'm almost out of it at home.” Just then he looked up. He expected to see the green forest stretching up the hillside. He stared.

The hillside was black smoking stumps, fallen blackened trees, white ashes! Beside the dead trees stood the old forester wringing his hands.

Silly Will didn't even speak to him. He could see what had happened without asking. He turned around. Slowly he walked home. He went right to bed. He still pretended that he wasn't unhappy or frightened. He kept saying to himself, ”I don't really depend on the wood at all. Of course that would be silly! I've got coal. It wouldn't matter to me if all the plants left me.” And with that thought he fell asleep. You see even now he didn't understand. Silly people never do understand.

Now that night another strange thing happened to Silly Will. I can't explain how or why it happened. But in the middle of the night all the plants _did_ leave Silly Will,--not only the potatoes and the trees but the whole vegetable kingdom.

He was asleep all curled up to keep warm in his cotton clothes. Suddenly he felt the comforter and sheet under him jerk away and he was left lying on the wire spring. At the same time the comforter and sheet over him disappeared. So did his nights.h.i.+rt. Then bang! His wooden bed was gone. The house began to creak and rock. He jumped up and tore down stairs. He just got outside the front door when the whole house collapsed.

The moon was s.h.i.+ning. Silly Will could see quite plainly. There stood the brick chimneys rising out of a pile of plaster dumped on top of the concrete foundations. There was the slate roof and the broken window of gla.s.s. The air was full of a sound like the violent trembling of many leaves. It sounded for all the world as if it said, ”I take back my wood!”

”Whatever will I do?” groaned Silly Will as he s.h.i.+vered all naked in the moonlight. Then his eye lighted on the kitchen stove. There it stood with the stove pipe all safely connected with the chimney.

”I'll build a coal fire,” he thought. There stood the iron coal scuttle.

But alas! It was empty! He heard a far-away murmur like a faint wind stirring in giant ferns. And they said, ”I take back my buried leaves!”

By this time Silly Will was shaking with cold. ”I've heard that newspapers are warm,” he thought. But the pile behind the stove was gone. Again came the murmur of trees--”I take back my pulp,” and a queer soft sound which he couldn't quite make out. Was it ”I take back my cotton?”

Silly Will was thoroughly terrified now.

”I'll go somewhere to think,” he said to himself. So he crept down the cement steps to the cellar and crawled into a sheltered corner. But he couldn't think of anything pleasant. He could hear a confused noise all around him. Sometimes it sounded like growls, like animal cries, like animal calls. ”The animal kingdom has left him,” it seemed to say.

Again it sounded like the wind rustling a thousand leaves. ”The vegetable kingdom has left him,” it seemed to say.

”I've nothing to wear,” sobbed Silly Will. ”And I'm afraid I've nothing to eat.” At the thought of food he jumped up and ran over to the cellar pantry. He found just three things. They did not make a tempting meal!

They were a crock of salt, a tin of soda and a porcelain pitcher of water.

”What shall I ever do? How shall I live? I'll never have another gla.s.s of milk or cup of cocoa. I'll never have anything to wear. I'll freeze and I'll starve. I might just as well die now!” And poor little Silly Will broke down and cried and cried and cried.

”I can't live without other living things,” he sobbed. ”I can't eat only minerals and I can't keep warm in minerals. Everybody has to depend on animals and vegetables. And after all I'm only a little boy! I've got to have living things to keep alive myself!”

Then a wonderful thing happened to Silly Will. I can't explain how or why it happened. Suddenly he felt all warm and comfortable. ”Perhaps I'm freezing,” he thought. ”I've heard that people feel warm when they are almost frozen to death.”

Slowly he put out his hand. Surely that was a linen sheet! Surely that was a woolen blanket. Surely he had on his flannel nightgown. He sat straight up. Surely this was his own bed: this was his own room: this was his own house. He could scarcely believe his eyes. He gave a great shout.

”Moo-oo-oo,” answered a cow under a tree outside his window. And the leaves of the tree rustled at him too.

”h.e.l.lo, old cow! h.e.l.lo, old tree!” cried Silly Will running to the window. ”Isn't it good we're all alive?” And when you think of it that wasn't a silly remark at all!

”Moo-oo-oo,” lowed the old cow. ”Swish-sh-sh-sh,” rustled the tree. And suddenly Silly Will thought he understood! I wonder if he did!

EBEN'S COWS

This story attempts to make an industrial process a background for real adventure.

EBEN'S COWS