The End of the Beginning Read online

  No matter how Avon tried to explain that snails were not pushy creatures, Edward urged him on. So, with much reluctance, Avon set off down the branch. From the far end, the other snail kept coming.

  Edward scrambled back to watch from a safe distance.

  The two snails moved along the long branch a little bit at a time.

  "Faster, faster!" urged Edward.

  The two snails moved forward slowly.

  "Don't take so long!" cried Edward.

  The snails moved on, coming closer and closer.

  "It's been two hours since you began!" shouted Edward, who, in spite of himself, was becoming a little bored.

  "I'm going at top speed," said Avon.

  By lunchtime the two snails had covered half the distance that had separated them.

  "Can I stop for something to eat?" asked Avon.

  "No, no, the matter is urgent," Edward insisted. "Keep going!"

  By four o'clock in the afternoon, the snails had covered three-quarters of the distance.

  Edward was exhausted with watching.

  "Can't you go any faster?" he called.

  "I'm running," replied Avon.

  By suppertime the two snails were almost close.

  "Remember, now," said Edward from his perch, "this is a fight to the finish." He yawned.

  The two snails were almost touching when the sun went down.

  "I can't see you anymore, Avon!" Edward called out. "Keep me informed."

  When it had become completely dark, there was a long silence.

  "What's happening?" asked Edward.

  "I'm not sure," replied Avon.

  "I can't hear anything."

  "Neither can I," said Avon.

  A few more hours passed.

  "Avon?"

  "Yes, Edward?"

  "Are you ... winning?"

  "Can't ... tell."

  In the middle of the night, Edward called out across the darkness, "How is it going?"

  "Pretty well."

  "Are you winning now?"

  "Won't know till daylight," Avon replied.

  In the morning Edward strained to have a look. To his astonishment the two snails had passed each other, and each was continuing on his way.

  Edward hurriedly caught up with Avon.

  "Avon! What happened? Did you win your famous battle?"

  Avon considered thoughtfully. "Edward," he said, "I don't know. It all happened so quickly."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  In Which the Adventurers Get Somewhere

  Two mornings later, Avon woke before Edward. While Edward continued to sleep, Avon looked around the place where they had stopped for the night. He had to admit that it was rather like his own neighborhood, even though they had traveled more than half the length of the branch. When Edward woke, Avon asked him about it.

  Edward explained. "You see, Avon, it all depends on you. If you want it to be different, it will be different. Don't look at the world with your eyes but with your heart."

  "But Edward," said Avon, suddenly alarmed, "I don't have eyes on my heart."

  "I was speaking as a poet might speak. You can't have adventures without poetry."

  "Oh, I do love poems, Edward. I remember my mother telling me a poem. It went this way: 'Jack Snail and Jill Snail went up a hill to fetch a pail; they took one step, and then another, and—'"

  Edward interrupted. "That's not the kind of poetry I mean. What I mean is that you take a lot of words, put them together, and they tell you something. The whole point is that if you don't know where you are, the best thing to do is write a poem. All adventurers do that sort of thing. It's part of the job."

  "Will it tell us where we're going?"

  "If we're looking that way."

  Avon took a long look around. "I think I have a poem to say," he announced.

  "Go on then."

  Avon closed his eyes, and recited:

  "How I wonder why the air

  Is the same here as it was there."

  "Bravo!" Edward clapped. "Now do you know where you are?"

  "Well," said Avon, "I have narrowed it down to two places."

  "Where?"

  "Here or there."

  "Good," said Edward. "You've got to start somewhere."

  CHAPTER NINE

  In Which Avon Does a Good Deed

  A day later Avon and Edward came upon a caterpillar busily building a cocoon.

  "That's the oddest house I ever saw," said Avon. "I don't think it will last very long—it's nothing but silky string. The first puff of wind will just blow it away."

  Paying the two adventurers no attention, the caterpillar worked steadily on, never once stopping until she was through.

  "I'd be a bit worried if I were going to stay there," Avon said to the caterpillar. "It's so flimsy, anyone might break in, or it might even fall apart. How long do you expect to be stopping here?"

  "A month," replied the caterpillar.

  "Coming and going, I suppose."

  "No, just sleeping."

  "The whole time?"

  "Yes indeed," said the caterpillar, and she yawned.

  Avon made up his mind at once. "I'm going to stand guard outside your house while you sleep," he announced.

  "That's very kind of you," said the caterpillar, "but I'm sure—"

  Avon interrupted. "No, I won't be put off. I'm going to do it. Adventurers are supposed to protect creatures."

  "I really don't think it's necessary," insisted the caterpillar, "but you're free to do as you wish." Crawling into her new house, she closed the door behind her.

  "I'd better check the windows and doors," said Avon. He went about making sure all was secure. "Things are just fine," he told Edward. "No one will trouble her."

  They stayed there for a month, Avon constantly checking the house.

  Each morning Edward asked Avon how the night had gone.

  "Nothing happened," said Avon.

  "I'm impressed," said Edward, "with how much you're getting done."

  One month from the day the caterpillar had gone into her house, Avon heard some sounds from the inside.

  "Edward," he called, "I think the caterpillar is waking up! She's going to come out." Dashing around, he did a final check to make sure things were in proper order, then went by the door to wait. As he waited, he said, "Edward, you'll have to admit I've done a good job."

  "Avon," said Edward in sincere admiration, "you have been wonderful."

  "I do think," said Avon, "I can truly say that this has been an adventure at last!"

  "Quite right," agreed Edward. "We might be able to go home immediately."

  The door of the cocoon opened a little bit. Avon peered around to get a better look but couldn't see anything. Slowly the door swung open and out came ... a butterfly.

  The butterfly walked to the edge of a leafand fanned her wings.

  Avon was astonished. Edward was speechless.

  Avon looked into the house to see if perhaps the caterpillar was still there. When he saw that the cocoon was empty, he rushed over to the butterfly.

  "What have you done with the caterpillar?" he cried.

  The butterfly looked curiously at Avon. "Were you speaking to me?" she asked.

  "There was a caterpillar in there," Avon said.

  "I am afraid," said the butterfly in a haughty tone, "that I don't know what you are talking about. As you can plainly see, I am a butterfly. I have nothing to do with caterpillars."

  Before Avon could ask another question, she flew away.

  Avon felt so bad, he almost cried.

  "I didn't do very well," he confessed.

  Edward was glum. "It looks that way."

  "What do you think I did wrong?"

  "As far as I can tell, you did nothing."

  "I promise you," said Avon with a shake of his head, "that the next time I do nothing, I'll do it better. But I guess we can't quit."

  "I'm afraid not, Avon. Not now, anyway."

  So the
y started off again.

  CHAPTER TEN

  In Which the Adventurers Come to an End

  The two adventurers were going along. Avon was singing:

  "March, march

  Golly, golly, golly.

  March, march

  Golly, golly—"

  "Stop!" cried Edward.

  "Are you referring to my speed or my song?" Avon asked.

  "Lookwhat's there," said Edward, pointing straight ahead.

  "I don't see a thing."

  "Exactly. We've reached the end of the branch."

  "Good heavens," said Avon. "I hadn't noticed. I might have fallen off."

  With great care the two creatures edged to the very tip. From there they looked out at the cloudless sky.

  "The end of the branch," said Avon, mostly to himself.

  "The beginning of the sky," said Edward, mostly to himself.

  "Which is it?" asked Avon. "The beginning or the end?"

  "I should think," said Edward, "it depends on what there's more of, the tree or the sky. How long did it take us to get here?"

  "All my life," said Avon.

  Edward nodded. "It's a very long branch, then. How long would it take to climb the sky?"

  "I can't tell," confessed Avon. "I've never done it."

  "Use your brain, Avon. Think of all the things that get in your way along the branch—leaves, bark, other creatures, a million things to slow you down. Now look at the sky."

  Avon looked. "There's nothing there."

  "Exactly. So it's bound to take less time."

  "I see your point."

  "Which means," continued Edward, "that it will take longer to climb the branch. And if it takes longer, the branch must be bigger. And if the branch is bigger than the sky, that means we're at sky's end, but only at the beginning of the branch."

  "You mean," asked Avon, quite amazed, "that after all this time, we're just beginning?"

  "Worse," Edward pointed out. "Since this is the beginning, if we hadn't gotten to this point, we would not have begun."

  "Oh goodness," said Avon. "All that traveling, and we haven't even started. I had no idea how far you have to go before you can start. Almost makes me want to stop."

  "You can't do that, either," said Edward severely.

  "Why?"

  "Can't very well stop if you haven't started, can you?"

  "Edward," cried Avon, "I never knew how important it was to start before you begin."

  And turning around, they began.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  In Which a Cricket Is Helped

  "Cik, cik, cik, cik, cik, cik."

  "What's that?" asked Avon.

  "A cricket," explained Edward. "Isn't it irritating the way all crickets sing the same song? That's the trouble with most creatures. They have no creativity. They do the same thing, the same way, day in, day out, from parent to child, without ever doing anything differently."

  "My father never wanted to seek adventures," said Avon.

  "What did he do?"

  "He wrote about fast food for Reader's Digestion."

  Edward went up to the cricket and said, "I beg your pardon, but that song—where did you find it?"

  The cricket was bewildered. "It's what all crickets sing."

  "Surely," said Edward, "you are not just the same as all the other crickets, are you?"

  "I've never given it much thought," said the cricket.

  "Now's your opportunity," announced Edward. "Em a creative songwriter. What sorts of things interest you in particular?"

  "Now that you mention it," said the cricket, "I'm ever so fond of cheese."

  "Good job!" said Edward. "What you clearly need is a cheese song. Avon, you and the cricket have yourselves a chat. I'm going off to write a song."

  Two hours later Edward came back.

  "I've worked up a beautiful cheese song," he told the cricket. "I've used your melody, but the words are my own creation." Edward cleared his throat and sang, "'Cheese, cheese, cheese, cheese, cheese.'"

  "That's it exactly," said the cricket. "That's exactly the way I feel about cheese."

  "Give it a try," suggested Edward.

  The cricket sang, "'Cheese, cheese, cheese, cheese...'" Just as he was about to conclude the song, a bird swooped down and tried to gobble him up. Fortunately, the bird missed.

  The cricket was very upset. "If I sing that song," he cried, "I'll be so different from all other crickets that every bird in the world will know where I am and try to eat me."

  "I suggest you sing it in your house, then," said Edward.

  "But if I do that," protested the cricket, "no one will hear me."

  "Better and better," said Edward. "Have you ever never heard a cricket?"

  "True enough," said Avon. "Every cricket I ever heard I could listen to."

  "Precisely," agreed Edward. "You," he said to the cricket, "will be the one-in-the-world cricket who, when creatures listen, won't be heard."

  Excited by the idea, the cricket hurried to his house, shut the door, and began to sing.

  Nothing could be heard.

  "Gosh," mused Avon, "being creative does make a difference."

  And the two adventurers continued on their way.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  In Which Avon Does Some Writing

  It was late at night, and Edward was almost asleep, when Avon called across the dark.

  "Do you realize," said Avon, "that in all the time we have been traveling, I have not written one letter. No, not even a postcard."

  "You could start now," suggested Edward. "Is there someone you want to write to?"

  "I'm afraid not," said Avon.

  "Yes," agreed Edward, "writing a letter is easy enough. It's deciding whom to send it to that's the hard part. Have you any friends?"

  "You."

  "Why not write to me, then?"

  "Would you mind?"

  "I should say not. It's wonderful to hear from friends when they're traveling."

  "I'll do it, then," said Avon. "Good night, Edward."

  "Good night, Avon."

  Taking out pencil and paper, Avon wrote: Dear Edward. Then he thought for a long time about what to write next. Not getting on very well, he called out, "Edward?"

  "Yes, Avon."

  "What sorts of things do you like to hear about in letters?"

  "Oh," said Edward, "something interesting, unusual. You know, I would just like to learn how you're getting on."

  "Oh, fine. Good night, Edward."

  "Good night, Avon."

  Looking across the paper, Avon realized there wasn't very much room to write all the things that were of interest to Edward.

  "Edward!" he called.

  "Yes, Avon."

  "I don't have much room here. Of all the things you said you liked to read about, is there one in particular you would find most interesting?"

  "Most of all," said Edward, "I'd like to know what you're doing."

  "Oh, well," said Avon, "that's easy enough. Good night, Edward."

  "Good night, Avon."

  Avon wrote: I am writing you a letter. It took up just about all the paper.

  "Edward?"

  "Yes, Avon."

  "In the letters you get, what kind of salutation do you like at the end?"

  "Avon, a salutation comes at the beginning. What comes at the end is a closing."

  "Thank you," said Avon. "That brings a conclusion to my confusion. But I still want to be open about closings. So do you prefer ... Yours truly, Sincerely yours, or Best regards?"

  Without a moment's hesitation, Edward said, " Yours sincerely."

  "Why?"

  "It's ... sincere."

  "Edward?"

  "Yes, Avon."

  "Would you mind very much listening to the letter so I could get your opinion of it?"

  "Not at all."

  Avon read the letter: "Dear Edward, I am writing you a letter. Tours sincerely, Avon."

  "An excellent letter, Avon," s
aid Edward. "It tells me everything you're doing."

  "I'll mail it tomorrow morning," said Avon. "You should get it in a few days."

  "Wonderful," said Edward. "There's nothing better than coming home from a long trip and finding a letter waiting for you. It brings you right up to date with your friends."

  "Good night, Edward."

  "Good night, Avon."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  In Which the Adventurers Find a Puzzle

  "Ohhhhhh."

  Avon and Edward stopped to listen.

  "Ohhhhhh."

  "It sounds like a creature in trouble," whispered Avon.

  "Be calm," said Edward, who had found a good place to listen behind Avon's back.

  "I think we should help," said Avon. "That's what they do in the books. It's sure to be a thrilling adventure."

  "Never rush into anything which may want rushing out of," cautioned Edward. "If the sound comes again, I may be able to tell you something more."

  "Ohhhhhh."

  "What is it?" Avon asked in a hushed tone.

  Edward considered. "It's something going, 'Ohhhhhh.'"

  "Can you tell what the matter is?"

  "No, only what it's saying."

  "Ohhhhhh."

  "It's right over there!" cried Avon, becoming more and more impatient. "This is my big chance."

  "It may be a warning to keep away!" shouted Edward, but it was too late. Avon was heading directly over to the other side of the branch. Edward followed slowly.

  When they got there, they found a worm curled up in almost a complete circle so that its two ends were nearly touching.

  "Ohhhhhh," moaned the worm. The sound didn't come from one end or the other but from somewhere in the middle.

  Speaking to neither end, Avon asked, "Were you calling for help?"

  "Oh dear, oh dear," said the worm. "Yes, perhaps you can help me. I went to sleep, but when I woke up, I had forgotten which end of me was the front and which end the back. I don't know which is the beginning and which the end!" he wailed.

  Avon was astonished.

  "No clues?" asked Edward, who had remained calm.