MR. LOBSTER thought it was very hard on him, after all his work gathering clams, to have to crawl miles in search of pickles. The worst of it was, he was curious about pickles at the same time, but he hated to show his ignorance. It seemed to him he was always asking questions.
Finally, after it seemed to him the three picnickers had walked for much too long a time, he decided that he would have to ask the question.
“Would you mind telling me,” he said to Mr. Badger, “what a pickle looks like? I don’t like to appear so ignorant about these land matters, but I must confess I don’t know.”
“Me too!” exclaimed Mr. Bear. “I had a dreadful appetite an hour ago from dragging my package to the picnic, and now I am half starved. And I haven’t the faintest idea what a pickle is. Does it swim or fly or walk?”
For almost a minute Mr. Badger was so upset by laughing that he couldn’t answer.
Then he said, “What a joke!” And he almost got started laughing wildly again, but Mr. Bear gave a long growl. “Why didn’t you tell me? Well, well!”
Mr. Bear growled again.
“Well, well, indeed,” he said gruffly. “What is a pickle?”
“You must excuse my laughing,” said Mr. Badger. “But you see, I don’t know what a pickle is myself. I have never seen one. I had never even heard of one until the owl made his unfortunate remark. That is why it is such a wonderful joke—it is on all of us!”
“Is that a joke?” asked Mr. Lobster.
“I must say, it makes me miserable,” growled Mr. Bear.
“Of course,” agreed Mr. Badger. “But when anything very unfortunate occurs which makes you miserable, if you laugh at it, it becomes a joke.”
“I am afraid,” said Mr. Bear sternly, “I am too hungry to laugh. Perhaps you can think of something else for us to do instead. I want to go back to our picnic.”
“So do I,” said Mr. Lobster. “I want to eat Mr. Bear’s delicious clams.”
“Don’t be alarmed, my good friends,” said Mr. Badger. “This is very simple, for already I know what we can do. When we find anything at all interesting, we can take a vote to decide whether it is a pickle. If we all vote that it is a pickle, then it is a pickle, and we can all return and eat our picnic.”
“Which is the main thing,” said Mr. Bear. “This looking for pickles has already gone too far.”
“Do we have to eat the pickles?” asked Mr. Lobster. “I am very hungry, but I am not sure about eating pickles.”
“I vote that we don’t have to eat any pickles,” said Mr. Bear positively.
“No, we don’t have to,” agreed Mr. Badger. “All the owl said was that we couldn’t have a picnic without pickles. He didn’t say a thing about eating them. Probably they are not good to eat, anyway.”
So it was decided that they did not have to eat the pickles after they were caught, which made it very much easier, as now it didn’t matter what a pickle was like as long as it was not too big to carry back to the picnic.
Immediately the three friends started to search again, and they looked very carefully. Almost at once Mr. Bear found a piece of wood and wanted to vote that it was a pickle, but Mr. Badger said “No,” because everyone knew what a piece of wood was and it was never a pickle.
Then Mr. Lobster, who of course was down the lowest and could easily see low things, saw two round things lying on the sand under an old plank from a boat.
“Look!” he cried, and he moved the plank so the others could see.
The two round things were orange colored, almost as big as baseballs, and had crinkly skins.
“I vote that these are pickles!” cried Mr. Bear at once.
“So do I!” exclaimed Mr. Lobster.
Mr. Badger hesitated a moment just to make the others nervous, but when Mr. Bear started to give a low and unpleasant growl, he said:
“So do I.”
“Thank goodness!” exclaimed Mr. Bear. “Now we can eat.”
“We must take these to our picnic,” said Mr. Badger.
Mr. Bear objected to that, but finally he picked up one of the round things in his teeth and began to carry it. Mr. Badger took the other one. Then the three friends started to walk back to their picnic, Mr. Bear and Mr. Badger having to go rather slow on account of Mr. Lobster, who could crawl only so fast, and who was really tired now.
It seemed to Mr. Lobster that it took forever to get back to the desolate place where they had left their delicious picnic. His mouth fairly watered at the thought of the delicious clams he was going to eat any minute. He was glad now that he gathered so many for Mr. Bear.
“It all goes to show,” he said to himself, “that generosity always pays in the end.”
Finally they came to a place which seemed to be the exact place where they had met for their picnic. Mr. Bear dropped his pickle.
“There,” he said. “That’s done.” And he looked around.
Then Mr. Badger and Mr. Lobster looked around.
There was no picnic to be seen.
“Maybe we have come too far,” suggested Mr. Badger.
“Look!” exclaimed Mr. Bear. “There is the paper I wrapped my beautiful fried fish in!”
“And here is my turtle-shell!” cried Mr. Lobster. “And it is empty!”
There was no picnic. That was the awful truth. They had come back to the right place, but their picnic was gone. And they were all tired and hungry, and there was nothing to look at but the wrappings of their picnic, which are a sure sign that a picnic is all over.
For a moment no one could speak.
Then Mr. Bear let out a horrible growl, the worst Mr. Lobster or Mr. Badger had ever heard.
“And we were so near perfect happiness!” wailed Mr. Badger.
“There is no such thing as perfect happiness,” growled Mr. Bear.
“Oh, yes, there is,” Mr. Badger protested, “even if we are not having it today. Perfect happiness occurs when you are not afraid of anything and have all you want to eat.”
“Well, we’re not perfectly happy now,” grumbled Mr. Bear. He paused for two short growls. “At least, I’m not. And I think that this picnic is the worst idea you have ever had. Someone has stolen my fish. It was the biggest, most beautiful fish I have ever fried. If there is anything I am perfectly, it is furious.”
“I spent all the morning gathering clams,” said Mr. Lobster mournfully, “and didn’t eat a one. And now I am sure I am getting dry. If you will excuse me, I shall go into the Ocean for a little while.”
“Do,” said Mr. Badger kindly. “But be sure and come back as soon as you can. We must have a meeting and plan to catch the thief who stole our picnic. I never realized until now how serious stealing is.”
Mr. Bear growled some more at that. He remembered that Mr. Badger had stolen from him in the old days when they were unfriends.
Mr. Lobster crawled wearily and sadly down to the edge of the water, crawled through a wave, and had a good swim. He stayed a little longer than was necessary, for he saw a perch and a small flounder, and he pursued them. When he returned to the shore he was feeling a little better.
When he reached his friends he found Mr. Badger quite excited.
“Do you see those?” he asked Mr. Lobster, pointing to a great many tracks in the sand.
“Yes, I do,” said Mr. Lobster.
“Well, what do you think they are?”
“I think they are the tracks of a sea gull.”
“Ah.” Mr. Badger was pleased. “Just what I thought. A sea gull was the thief.”
“Excuse my interrupting,” said Mr. Bear so crossly that they knew he didn’t care whether he was excused or not, “but I happen to be hungry. I can’t see any use in talking. Let us admit that picnics are very bad ideas, and then never have another one.”
“We can’t have another one,” said Mr. Lobster wisely, “until we have had this one.”
“Exactly,” agreed Mr. Badger. “So we must have this one so that the one we never have would be another.”
Nobody else understood this. Mr. Lobster said nothing. Being wise, he considered silence important at times. Mr. Bear simply growled. He always growled when he did not know what to do or say.
“And,” Mr. Badger was saying importantly, “even if this picnic has turned out rather badly, it just goes to show that you never can tell about life—it’s so uncertain. And uncertainty is the next best thing to adventure.”
“It is the next worst thing, you mean,” said Mr. Bear. “And besides, I don’t care for uncertainty about my food. That’s going too far.”
“Please let me finish,” said Mr. Badger. “Now we can have an adventure. We must set a trap to catch the thief who stole our picnic. Catching him will be as much fun as eating.”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Mr. Bear. “How can anything be as much fun as eating?”
“And what shall we do with the thief when we catch him?” asked Mr. Lobster.
Mr. Badger smiled happily.
“That’s just the fun of it,” he said. “I don’t know what we’ll do with him. When we catch him we shall have a new problem.”
“Your ideas always end in problems!” protested Mr. Bear. “First, it was fishing in a boat, which caused the awful problem of how to row without oars. Then it was a picnic, and the problem of how to carry a fried fish several miles. Then it was pickles, and the problem of finding something not one of us had ever seen. And now we have the fine problem of building a trap to catch a thief. And when we catch the thief we shall have the problem of what to do about it. Is your life always a problem?”
“Of course.” Mr. Badger grinned. “Life is one problem after another. That’s what makes it fun. There is always something to solve. Think how miserable we should be if everything were solved.”
“That is ridiculous!” said Mr. Bear. “I would be anything but miserable if the problem of my lunch and dinner were solved right now. In fact, I wish someone would solve it, for I know very well that I can solve it only by hard work.” He stopped to growl a good deal. “I think I’ll go home,” he added.
But Mr. Bear didn’t go home. He was really too good a friend to do that, even if he did growl a great deal.
Mr. Lobster noticed that. He said to himself: “I’ve learned one thing from knowing Mr. Bear. Growling does not change the situation at all. After you have finished growling, you are right where you started.”
Instead of going home the three friends worked most of the afternoon making a trap out of wood and pieces of things they found on the beach. When it was done, after a great deal of work, and a great deal of complaining by Mr. Bear and chuckling by Mr. Badger, the trap was arranged so that if the sea gull walked under it to touch the pickles, which Mr. Badger placed there to attract the thief, a big box with a piece of fish-net for a bottom would fall and imprison the sea gull securely.
Mr. Badger and Mr. Bear had done most of the work, for Mr. Bear could pull things and Mr. Badger was very clever with his paws. Mr. Lobster was too clumsy on land to be of much use, but now he was a great help.
“The thief may not like pickles,” said Mr. Badger, “but he certainly likes fish. So Mr. Lobster must go and catch us some kind of fish to put under our trap.”
Mr. Lobster was glad to be of some service. He hated to miss anything. So he hurried out into the water and caught a fairly large flounder. He wanted to eat it, for he was still hungry, but instead he carried it to Mr. Badger, and Mr. Badger placed it beside the pickles.
“Now we can all go home,” said Mr. Badger. “And tomorrow morning we shall return here and see what sea gull stole our picnic.”
“Which won’t do a bit of good,” growled Mr. Bear.
“But what shall we do to punish the thief?” asked Mr. Lobster, who was very curious and hated to wait until the next day to find out.
Mr. Badger smiled one of his happiest smiles. “We mustn’t decide that now,” he said. “Life would be uninteresting if we knew exactly what we were going to do tomorrow.”
So Mr. Lobster had to go home without satisfying his curiosity.
Mr. Bear started off muttering, “I hope we never have any more picnics.”
And Mr. Badger went off quite happy in spite of everything, because it had been an interesting day even if his picnic had been spoiled, and tomorrow promised to be even more interesting.
Mr. Lobster was so curious about the punishment of the thief, and whether they would succeed in catching him in the trap, that he almost forgot to have dinner before he went to bed. And after he had crawled into his fine house he was so curious he could hardly get to sleep.
“Curiosity,” he told himself, “can be very trying at times, but I suppose there is no easy way to gather wisdom.”
In the morning, when Mr. Lobster started for shore, he was eager indeed, and he traveled at a good rate of speed. When he came out on the sandy beach he saw that the morning was bright with sunshine, and the sky was as blue as a fairy’s eyes. All the world seemed to be made to be enjoyed, and he felt that he was surely going to enjoy it.
He had gotten up so early, because of his curiosity, that he reached the trap before Mr. Badger and Mr. Bear.
The trap was sprung—and in it, safe and sound but unable to escape, was the largest sea gull Mr. Lobster had ever seen.
“So,” said Mr. Lobster, “you were the thief that stole our picnic.” He spoke sternly, for he believed that was the proper manner in which to address all criminals.
“Look here!” cried the sea gull, who was very much excited, and who had been beating his wings until he had broken several feathers, “do let me out of here, will you please?”
“Let you out, did you say?” Mr. Lobster was shocked by the request. The idea of a thief asking to be released from a trap.
“Of course,” said the sea gull. “Everyone knows you, Mr. Lobster. You are the first lobster ever to be smart enough to come ashore, and you are the wisest lobster in all the Ocean. All of us gulls know about you, for we have watched you. We consider you a brilliant specimen. You are so wise and so famous that you can afford to be generous. Do let me out.”
For a moment Mr. Lobster did feel generous. The gull seemed to be speaking true and kind words. Furthermore, the gull seemed a courteous sort of bird, and it seemed impossible that he was a thief.
“It hardly seems possible,” said Mr. Lobster, looking at the sea gull closely, “that you could have done such a thing.”
“Surely, Mr. Lobster, a creature as wise as you are wouldn’t think such a ridiculous thing as that!” The sea gull spoke in the most flattering manner. “You will let me out, won’t you?”
“I must think first,” answered Mr. Lobster. “It is true that I am very wise. I am sixty-eight years old, you know. But a wise person does not act without thinking about it first. Thinking afterwards is always too late.”
There is no knowing what Mr. Lobster would have thought if the clever sea gull could have talked a little longer. But just then a tremendous and furious noise came rushing over the beach, a noise of growling and roaring and panting; and there was Mr. Bear, coming as fast as he could, the sand flying in every direction. Mr. Badger was close behind him.
“Ah!” exclaimed Mr. Bear. “The thief himself! We have caught him!”
Mr. Badger came up puffing.
“There!” he said. “Don’t ever say that I don’t have good ideas. Isn’t this interesting? Isn’t this as good as an adventure?”
“Pardon me,” put in Mr. Lobster. “I am not sure we haven’t made a serious mistake. This sea gull seems to be a very courteous bird.”
“A thief always tries to seem honest after he has done his stealing,” said Mr. Badger. “I wouldn’t trust him.”
“Do you speak from experience?” asked Mr. Bear.
Mr. Badger did not answer. In fact, he seemed a trifle deaf for the moment. Instead, he looked the sea gull right in the eyes.
“Did you steal our picnic?” he asked.
“It was all a mistake,” whined the sea gull.
“Ah,” growled Mr. Bear. “You will find that it was a very serious mistake, indeed. You just wait.”
Everyone knew that the sea gull was guilty now, for he just hung his head and said nothing.
Mr. Badger tried to look serious, although he was pleased with himself for catching the sea gull, and, if the truth were told, he had done a good bit of stealing himself.
“You understand,” he said to the miserable bird, “that stealing to get a bite of dinner is one thing, and stealing a whole picnic is another. Stealing a picnic is a hideous crime.”
“I realize that now,” said the sea gull, and his head went even lower.
“Too late,” growled Mr. Bear.
“I should say,” offered Mr. Lobster, who was feeling extremely wise, “that the pleasure in stealing totally disappears when you are caught. I am convinced that it must be wrong, therefore; for whatever is without pleasure is wrong.”
“That is not new,” said Mr. Badger with a chuckle. “Everyone knows that it is wrong to be caught for stealing.”
“You know very well that I didn’t mean that,” said Mr. Lobster sharply.
“Let us not waste time in silly arguments,” said Mr. Bear gruffly. “Let us decide the punishment.”
So the three friends made a circle around the unhappy sea gull, who now stood with his head almost on the sand, and his bright eyes shut tight, and looking so ashamed of himself that it was hard not to pity him. In fact, Mr. Lobster, who had a soft heart under his hard shell, as so many persons do, did pity him.
“I say,” began Mr. Bear, “that since this bird stole our picnic and ate it, he should be eaten also.”
“It does seem fair,” said Mr. Badger.
“I suppose I shall have to vote for that if my two friends do,” said Mr. Lobster.
“Oh, please don’t eat me!” cried the sea gull.
“Well, of course, I shan’t,” said Mr. Bear. “You are all covered with feathers, and I should hate to eat feathers.”
“I should not think of it,” said Mr. Badger.
“I never eat birds,” said Mr. Lobster.
“There is a problem already,” said Mr. Bear. “How can we punish him if no one will do it?”
“I suppose,” said Mr. Badger, “that we had better decide that eating is not the punishment. Then it will be no problem.”
And the three friends decided that at once.
Then there was a long silence, while the matter of punishment was still unsolved.
“I guess we shall have to keep the sea gull in prison,” said Mr. Badger finally.
“A very good idea,” growled Mr. Bear. “That will teach him a lesson.”
“I agree,” said Mr. Lobster, who thought this was much kinder than eating the sea gull. “But who will feed him? We can’t let him starve to death here.”
“Another problem,” said Mr. Bear in great disgust. “If we have to get his food and bring it to him we shall be just punishing ourselves, for we shall have to do all the work. Eating him would be a punishment for us, and feeding him would be a punishment for us. It seems to me that this business of giving punishments is pretty poor.”
By now the sea gull’s head had come up a little, and he was looking more hopeful.
“Also,” said Mr. Lobster, who was really wise this time, “it is evident that such punishments would do no good, for how could the sea gull profit by being eaten, and learn to be a better bird? And could he learn to be a better bird if he was kept all the time in this prison?”
What Mr. Lobster said was so true that everyone was silent.
But the sea gull had one eye open now.
“This is going to turn out just like all of Mr. Badger’s ideas,” said Mr. Bear.
“Wait!” exclaimed Mr. Lobster. “I seem to be able to think very clearly today. I am sure it is because I got up so early this morning. I say that if the sea gull will promise solemnly to gather us another fine picnic, with fish for Mr. Bear, and meat for Mr. Badger, and clams without their shells for me, we let him go free.”
“Wonderful!” cried Mr. Badger. “That is the best suggestion of all! We can have the fun of eating our picnic after all, and the sea gull will certainly learn a lesson.”
“You are very astute,” remarked Mr. Bear in the pleasantest tone he had used for some minutes.
“Astute?” asked Mr. Lobster. “Do tell me what that means?”
“It means being wise at the right moment,” explained Mr. Badger. “And that is very much wiser than just wise, and very much more important.”
Mr. Lobster felt happy, indeed. This was certainly a beautiful day.
The sea gull, who had been listening carefully, now put his head all the way up and opened his other eye.
“I will promise,” he said. “If you will let me go, I will have a fine picnic for you here tomorrow, even if I have to work every minute to do it.”
“Are the three judges willing?” asked Mr. Badger seriously.
“I am,” said Mr. Lobster, “for I thought of it.”
“I am,” said Mr. Bear. “I suppose I shall have to be, for it is a wise thing to do. But I know very well that the sea gull can never catch a fish as big as the one I had, and even if he could catch it he couldn’t fry it. Still, it is a pleasure to be uncivilized at times, and picking blueberries will be a good hard job for the sea gull; so I say that he has to pick two quarts of blueberries, and I’ll have those instead of the fish. No, I’ll make it three quarts.”
“Oh, I will do that,” said the sea gull.
“Well, I am willing,” said Mr. Badger.
Mr. Badger then lifted up the trap, and the sea gull flew away.
“I think,” remarked Mr. Badger in a satisfied tone, after the gull was far away, “that everything has worked out very well. We should be pleased with ourselves.”
“I’ll wait until tomorrow before I am pleased,” said Mr. Bear. “Being pleased in advance often ends in disaster.”
THE SEA GULL FLEW AWAY.
“What shall we do now?” asked Mr. Lobster.
“Go and catch our dinner,” said Mr. Bear, “and hope we don’t have to catch it tomorrow, too.”
The three friends then parted for the day. It was such a beautiful day that Mr. Lobster was tempted to stay ashore. But he didn’t. He went home under the Ocean where the sunlight was a lovely green, and he caught small pleasant creatures, opened two clams, and then met the sculpin and talked with him for hours.
When the three friends met the next day they were all delighted to find that the sea gull, who must have been honest at heart, as all birds are, except possibly the black crow, had brought everything he had promised.
“I have been very busy,” he said. “I could carry only seven blueberries in my bill at a time, and I have had to make over 900 trips between here and the place where they grow. And I had to drop each clam upon the rocks to break the shell and then bring it here. But I have everything, and I want to know if I may go now.”
The three friends agreed that the sea gull had carried out his promise, and he flew away, probably a very much better bird.
Mr. Badger got the two round things which had been voted pickles, and put them down near the picnic. Then they all sat down and had a joyous time, for Mr. Bear had blueberries, Mr. Badger had a fine piece of meat, and Mr. Lobster had a great heap of clams without their shells.
When it was all over there was nothing left but the pickles.
“My meat was perfect,” said Mr. Badger. “Our picnic turned out very well after all.”
“My clams were delicious,” said Mr. Lobster, “and I think your ideas are wonderful.”
“Well,” said Mr. Bear, “my blueberries were fresh and nice, but I do love fried fish.” And he gave a growl, but it was a low growl and a soft growl, for he was really very happy.