Free The Willows in Winter by William Horwood, Patrick Benson Page B

very wrong
indeed.
    “My dear friends,” said Toad, his face now the
very picture of generosity and care — though had the Badger been less busy, and
the Rat not concerned with putting on the parachute, they might even then have
noticed that his eyes betrayed a certain resolute cunning. “I may have been
slow to respond to your call for help, but now I hope I may make recompense.
‘We must not delay, but flying is cold and tiring work and it would surely be
wise if our pilot-mechanic here had a quick hot drink before he bravely takes
to the skies again. Therefore I have had prepared for him — no, no, don’t
refuse, it is my pleasure — yes, just at the top of the steps, all ready and
waiting, yes —”
    Before the pilot knew what was happening, Toad
led him up the steps and into the Hall.
    “They’re taking an awfully long time,” said the
Rat impatiently after a while.
    Almost as if he had heard this, Toad thrust his
head out of the French windows, and cried, “He’s nearly done, Ratty, and says
that to save time you’re to get in.
    “‘Well, if it will hurry things along,” growled
the Rat.
    “You go and get them moving, Badger, there’s a
good fellow. Toad’s probably gassing away and telling that poor pilot what a
glorious fellow he is, or showing him the family portraits!”
    “Leave it to me,” said the Badger.
    “Ah, Badger cried Toad, again from just inside
the door, “I was just about to suggest that you — yes, you’re cold too, no
doubt? No? The pilot? He’s just down there — yes, yes
—Badger had mounted the steps and disappeared inside at Toad’s siren call when
the Rat, left alone, climbed grumpily into the passenger seat of the flying
machine, which was not easy with a parachute attached to his front, and then
looked impatiently up at the Hall.
    “Come on!” he called out.
    “He’s coming!” he heard Toad’s voice shout.
“He’s almost ready!”
    Then Toad’s voice again —”Good luck, sir! And
bless you for your courage!”
    If only the Rat had not been adjusting the
cushions just then and strapping himself in, and
instead had been looking up towards Toad Hall. If only he had seen Toad, now
sporting the pilot’s leather headgear, peering shiftily outside towards the
machine as he panted with the exertion of overpowering and disrobing the pilot.
    If only he had been watching more
carefully as Toad, with the sheepskin jacket and goggles completing his
disguise and a parachute attached to his front once more, lumbered down the
steps, accompanied by his own cries of, “Good luck, old fellow! Good luck! Badger and I will be
cheering you brave fellows on, won’t we, Badger?”
    Badger might indeed have done so, had Toad not
locked him in the smoking room after he had tied up the pilot, whence his cries
of rage and thumping at the oaken door issued forth in a muffled kind of way.
    “Ha! Ha!” chortled Toad to himself as he
approached the machine, and before the Rat had a real chance to look at him, or
thought to ask himself why the pilot looked somewhat different — shorter,
fatter, much less nimble — it was too late! For without more ado Toad climbed
aboard and pressed the starter switch.
    “Ho! Ho!” he chuckled as the engine started and
the machine jumped forward at his command.
    “ Hee ! Hee !” guffawed Toad as the little machine raced down the lawn.
“This is easy, this is fun, this is what it’s all
about!”
    If only, even then, Rat had put two and two
together he might still have had time to unstrap himself and leap clear as the flying machine, roaring and racing now, swerved
this way and that under Toad’s uncertain command, and finally lurched towards
the river.
    But the Rat did not, feeling only some surprise
at the roughness of their passage, and then alarm and doubt as the machine tore
down towards the river and threatened to crash straight into it till, with a
last despairing shudder, it pulled itself up into the air, more of its own
volition