Читать книгу The Bad Little Owls онлайн

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“Let’s see, let’s see!” said Doctor Muskrat. He began peering at it in the darkness way off away from the lantern.

“Come up here by the fire,” giggled Watch. “It’s not hurting Stripes. If you don’t get too close to its cage you’re all right. It can’t jump out and bite you.” Now wasn’t that a sensible way to explain about a lantern to the Woodsfolk? It surely is just a little flame of fire all shut up safe inside of its glass, like a goldfish in a bowl.

So Tad and Doctor Muskrat crept up close, jumping just a little whenever the flame danced, and peeked at the poor burned paw. It had just the teeniest, weeniest little pinhead of a blister. When Tad saw how very little it was he felt quite cheerful again, and forgot all about it.

Indeed, he was more curious than ever about the lantern. “Where did Louie catch it?” he wanted to know. “What does it eat? Doesn’t it ever run wild at all?”

“Sometimes,” said Watch with a little shiver. “Then it grows very, very fast and eats up everything it can reach. I’ve seen a little bit of a fire like that eat up a whole haystack in about the time it takes the sun to set. But men are very, very careful never to let it get out if they can possibly help it. They keep it in strong black cages (he meant stoves, of course), and feed it cold black stones. (That was coal, you know.) Or they keep it in a cave and feed it a bit of wood. (Watch meant an open grate.) It spits and sputters and sometimes a little piece jumps out, but someone always catches it. And they keep a lot in little cages like this and feed it water with a funny smell.” (That’s lamps burning kerosene.)