The Book of the Dun Cow Read Online Free

that you ask me to do this thing for you. Should I, perhaps, bite his head off?” But as nobody understood him, the Rooster didn’t answer one thing and the Weasel didn’t answer another.
    â€œBeryl, get the shells,” Chauntecleer commanded, still lofty on top of the Coop. While she did, he turned to the Weasel hanging out of Mundo Cani’s mouth.
    â€œJohn Wesley—” he began, but the Weasel didn’t wait for a question or a finish.
    â€œNot John!” he chattered. “Nor not John Double-u of the Double-u’s neither. Look in other places. Other haunts and hollows. Flip rocks. Root roots. Shake trees. Find a villain. But John Double-u—he’s no villain. He didn’t do it!” The Weasel’s heart was beating so fast that Mundo Cani’s eyes jumped.
    â€œDo what?” said the Rooster.
    â€œIt!
It!
” the Weasel cried. “The what that put John’s little body in a monster’s mouth. Whatever. The Rooster knows. This Weasel doesn’t. Oh, tell a Dog to put me down. John’s wet, he is.”
    At that moment Beryl came out of the Coop with the empty shells and with grief in her eyes. John Wesley saw her and was silenced.
    â€œJohn Wesley,” Chauntecleer said, “look at those shells.”
    â€œShells,” said the Weasel miserably. “Are most certainly shells.”
    â€œAnd empty,” said the Rooster.
    â€œEmpty,” said the Weasel, suddenly of very few words. He knew the tragic importance of eggs eaten out. He knew the loss of children; for one greater than he had taught him. “This is the what,” he moaned.
    â€œI know what you have done in the past, John Wesley,” said that one. “I know what you are capable of doing.”
    The Weasel stiffened abruptly. Mundo Cani gagged. “Past is past. Past is not present. Did is not do. Was is not is,” chattered John Wesley again, desperate. “This! Oh, not John.”
    Chauntecleer stared at the Weasel for some moments and considered. Then, with a dreadful measure, he said quietly: “If this isn’t your work, John Wesley; if we don’t fault you for swallowing children even before they are formed, then whose
is
the fault? Name a name before me, John.”
    The Weasel closed his eyes and answered nothing. He shivered.
    â€œMf rmfl,” said Mundo Cani—awoken, perhaps, by the shiver. He meant: “One should supper on such a wickedness and be done.”
    But Chauntecleer cut the silence with a crow and a command:
    â€œA name, John Wesley! It was one or another who’s been eating children. One I have here for the punishment. Another’s name I do not know. Then: Unless I am given a name, John Wesley, it shall be
you
!”
    â€œUm,” squeaked the Weasel in a tiny voice. His eyes opened and tried to see every corner and every hiding place around him.
    â€œA NAME!” roared the Rooster.
    â€œNezer,” squeaked the Weasel hastily.
    â€œEbenezer Rat?”
    Then the Weasel stood up for himself, the name having been said, as best as one might stand up for oneself in the mouth of a Dog: “Rats is rats, past, present, and forever,” he chattered. “Weasels change. But rats is rats!”
    â€œEbenezer Rat,” the Rooster pronounced the name blackly.
    Suddenly there was an explosion in the Coop, and thirty Hens burst out the door all at one time. They had heard the name.
    The commotion caused Mundo Cani to turn circles and to open his mouth. A wet Weasel fell to the ground. Hens spluttered all over the yard, while the Weasel tested his legs and flung sharp glances at a Dog.
    â€œIs
ways
to bite a Weasel,” he mumbled. “Is ways to bite a Dog, too.”
    Mundo Cani, however, had burst into tears. “White loveliness,” he wept, pawing Hen after Hen. “Loveliness of white. How is it, Master of the Universe, that you set such grace among the Chickens but to me you