Chapter 16 Doctor Dolittle's Zoo by Hugh Lofting
THE VOICES IN THE EARTH
“So,” the Volcano Rat continued, “the following day a great departure of rats took place from that town. And the old hermit of the mountain-top had the surprise of his life when from his crow's nest lookout he saw several thousand of us trailing up the slope to share his loneliness.
“Fortunately the Autumn was not yet over and there were still great quantities of acorns lying beneath the oak trees. These we harvested into the many funny little underground chambers with which the walls of the crater were riddled.
“Because I had led them out of danger into this land of safety I came to be looked upon as a sort of leader. Of course after the first excitement of the migration was over a good deal of grumbling began. It seems people always have to grumble. Many young fellows who thought themselves clever made speeches to those willing to listen. They told the crowd that I had led them into as bad a plight as they were in before. Rat and mouse civilization had gone backward, they said, instead of forward. Now they were no better than squirrels living on stored-up acorns. Whereas in the towns, though they may have had the constant dangers that always had to be faced in cities, life at least had some color and variety; they didn't have to eat the same food every day; and if they wanted to line their nests with silk, or felt they knew where to find it, etc., etc., etc., and a whole lot more.
“These discontented orators got the common people so worked up against me that for a time my life was actually in danger from the mob. Finally—though I am a rat of few words—I had to make a speech on my own account in self-defense. I pointed out to the people that the life we were now leading was nothing more nor less than the original life of our forefathers. 'After the Flood,' I told them, 'this was how you lived, the simple outdoor life of the fields. Then when the cities of Men arose with their abominable crowding you were tempted by the gay life of cellars and larders. We rats,' I said proudly, 'were at the first a hardy race of agriculturists, living by corn and the fruits of the earth. Lured by idleness and ease, we became a miserable lot of crumb-snatchers and cheese-stealers. I gave you the chance to return to your healthy, independent, outdoor life. Now, after you have listened to these wretched cellar-loungers, you long to go back to the sneaking servitude of the dwellings of Men. Go then, you fleas, you parasites!' (I was dreadfully mad.) 'But never,' I said, 'never ask me to lead you again!'
“And yet Fate seemed to plot and conspire to make me a leader of rats. I didn't want to be. I never had any taste or ambition for politics. But no sooner had I ended my speech, even while the cheers and yells of the audience were still ringing in my ears (for I had completely won them over to my side) the old hermit came up behind me and croaked into my ear, 'The eruption!—the voices in the earth have spoken. Beware! We must fly!'
“Something prompted me to believe him—though even to this day I don't see how he could have known, and I thought I had better act, and act quickly, while I had the crowd on my side.
“'Hark!' I shouted, springing to my feet once more. 'This mountain is no longer safe. Its inner fires are about to burst forth. All must leave. Do not wait to take your acorns with you. For there is no time to lose.'
“Then like one rat they rose up and shouted, 'Lead us and we will follow. We believe in you. You are the leader whom we trust!'
“After that came a scene of the wildest kind. In a few minutes I had to organize a train of thousands of rats and mice and get it down that mountain-side the quickest possible way. Somehow or other I managed it—even though darkness came on before I started them off and the route was precipitous and dangerous. In addition to everything else, I had to make arrangements for six rats to carry the old hermit who couldn't walk fast enough to keep up with the rest.
“So, through the night, past the walls of the town—the town which had turned us out—we hurried on and on and on, down, down into the valley. Even there, tired though we all were, I would not let them halt for long, but hurried the train on after a few moments' rest across the valley, over the wide river by a stone bridge and up the slopes of another range of hills twenty miles away from the spot we had started from. And even as I wearily shouted the command to halt, the volcano-top opened with a roar and sent a funnel of red fire and flying rocks hurtling into the black night sky.
“Never have I seen anything so terrifying as the anger of that death-spitting mountain. A sea of red-hot stones and molten mud flowed down the slopes, destroying all in its path. Even where we stood and watched, twenty miles away across the valley, a light shower of ashes and dust fell around us.
“The next day the fire had ceased and only a feather of smoke rising from the summit remained. But the villages were no more; the town, the town that had turned us out, could not be seen.
“Well, we settled down to country life and for some years lived in peace. My position as leader, whether I willed it or no, seemed more than ever confirmed now that I had led the people out of further dangers.
“And so time passed and the Second Migration was declared a great success. But presently, as always seemed to be the way, I foresaw that before long we would have to move again. Our trouble this time was weasels. Suddenly in great numbers they cropped up all over the countryside and made war on rats, mice, rabbits and every living thing. I began to wonder where I would lead the people this time. Often I had looked across the valley at our old mountain, our old home. The hermit had told me that he was sure that the volcano would not speak again for fifty years. He had been right once: he probably would be again. One day I made up my mind to go back across the valley and take a look around. Alone I set off.
“Dear me, how desolate! The beautiful slopes that had been covered with vineyards, olive groves and fig trees were now gray wastes of ashes, shadeless and hot in the glaring sun. Wearily I walked up the mountain till I came to about the place where I reckoned the town had stood. I began wondering what the buildings looked like underneath. I hunted around and finally found a hole in the lava; through it I made my way downward. Everything of course after all these years was quite cold; and to get out of the sun into the shade beneath the surface of the ground was in itself quite gratifying. I started off to do some subterranean exploring.
“Down and down I burrowed. In some places it was easy and in some places it was hard. But finally I got through all that covering of ashes and lava crust and came into the town beneath.
“I almost wept as I ran all over it. I knew every inch of the streets, every stone in the buildings. Nothing had changed. The dead city stood beneath the ground, silent and at peace, but in all else just as it had been when the rain of fire had blotted it out from the living world.
“'So!' I said aloud, 'here I will bring the people—back to the town that turned us out. At last we have a city of our own!'”