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MOTHER WEST WIND "WHERE" STORIES
by
THORNTON W. BURGESS
Illustrations by Harrison Cady
[Illustration: "Then there was a crash, and everybody's eyes flew open."
FRONTISPIECE. _See Page 243._]
Burgess Trade Quaddies Mark
Grosset & Dunlap
Publishers New York
By arrangement with Little, Brown, and Company
Copyright, 1918,
by Thornton W. Burgess.
All rights reserved
Printed in the United States of America
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. WHERE GRANDFATHER FROG GOT
HIS BIG MOUTH 1
II. WHERE MISER THE TRADE RAT
FIRST SET UP SHOP 17
III. WHERE YAP-YAP THE PRAIRIE DOG
USED HIS WITS 31
IV. WHERE YELLOW-WING GOT HIS
LIKING FOR THE GROUND 47
V. WHERE LITTLE CHIEF LEARNED TO MAKE HAY 61
VI. WHERE GLUTTON THE WOLVERINE GOT HIS NAME 77
VII. WHERE OLD MRS. 'GATOR MADE
THE FIRST INCUBATOR 91
VIII. WHERE MR. QUACK GOT HIS
WEBBED FEET 107
IX. WHERE THUNDERFOOT THE BISON
GOT HIS HUMP 123
X. WHERE LIMBERHEELS GOT HIS
LONG TAIL 139
XI. WHERE OLD MR. GOBBLER GOT THE
STRUTTING HABIT 155
XII. WHERE SEEK-SEEK GOT HIS
PRETTY COAT 169
XIII. WHERE OLD MR. OSPREY LEARNED
TO FISH 185
XIV. WHERE OLD MR. BOB-CAT LEFT HIS
HONOR 199
XV. WHERE DIPPY THE LOON GOT THE
NAME OF BEING CRAZY 213
XVI. WHERE BIG-HORN GOT HIS CURVED
HORNS 229
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
"THEN THERE WAS A CRASH, AND EVERYBODY'S
EYES FLEW OPEN" _FRONTISPIECE_
"LITTLE CHIEF'S FATHER TAUGHT HIM HOW
TO MAKE HAY" 74
PETER NOTICED THOSE FEET THE FIRST TIME
HE MET MR. AND MRS. QUACK 122
"DON'T CALL ME STRIPED CHIPMUNK, AND
DON'T CALL ME GOPHER!" SAID HE 170
MOTHER WEST WIND "WHERE" STORIES
I
WHERE GRANDFATHER FROG GOT HIS BIG MOUTH
Everybody knows that Grandfather Frog has a big mouth. Of course! It
wouldn't be possible to look him straight in the face and not know that
he has a big mouth. In fact, about all you see when you look Grandfather
Frog full in the face are his great big mouth and two great big goggly
eyes. He seems then to be all mouth and eyes.
Anyway, that is what Peter Rabbit says. Peter never will forget the
first time he saw Grandfather Frog. Peter was very young then. He had
run away from home to see the Great World, and in the course of his
wanderings he came to the Smiling Pool. Never before had he seen so much
water. The most water he had ever seen before was a little puddle in the
Lone Little Path. So when Peter, who was only half grown then, hopped
out on the bank of the Smiling Pool and saw it dimpling and smiling in
the sunshine, he thought it the most wonderful thing he ever had seen.
The truth is that in those days Peter was in the habit of thinking
everything he saw for the first time the most wonderful thing yet, and
as he was continually seeing new things, and as his eyes always nearly
popped out of his head whenever he saw something new, it is a wonder
that he didn't become pop-eyed.
Peter stared and stared at the Smiling Pool, and little by little he
began to see other things. First he noticed the bulrushes growing with
their feet in the water. They looked to him like giant grass, and he
began to be a little fearful lest this should prove to be a sort of
magic place--a place of giants. Then he noticed the lily-pads, and he
stared very hard at these. They looked like growing things, and yet they
seemed to be floating right on top of the water. It wasn't until a Merry
Little Breeze came along and turned the edge of one up so that Peter saw
the long stem running down in the water out of sight, that he was able
to understand how those lily-pads could be growing there. He was still
staring at those lily-pads when a great deep voice said:
"Chug-a-rum! Chug-a-rum! Don't you know it isn't polite to stare at
people?"
That voice was so unexpected and so deep that Peter was startled. He
jumped, started to run, then stopped. He wanted to run, but curiosity
wouldn't let him. He simply couldn't run away until he had found out
where that voice came from and to whom it belonged. It seemed to Peter
that it had come from right out of the Smiling Pool, but look as he
would, he couldn't see any one there.
"If you please," said Peter timidly, "I'm not staring at anybody." All
the time he was staring down into the Smiling Pool with eyes fairly
popping out of his head.
"Chug-a-rum! Have a care, young fellow! Have a care how you talk to your
elders. Do you mean to be impudent enough to tell me to my face that I
am not anybody?" The voice was deeper and gruffer than ever, and it made
Peter more uncomfortable than ever.
"Oh, no, Sir! No, indeed!" exclaimed Peter. "I don't mean anything of
the kind. I--I--well, if you please, Sir, I don't see you at all, so how
can I be staring at you? I'm sure from the sound of your voice that you
must be somebody very important. Please excuse me for seeming to stare.
I was just looking for you, that is all."
A little movement in the water close to a big green lily-pad caught
Peter's eyes, and then out on the big green lily-pad climbed Grandfather
Frog. If Peter had stared before he doubly stared now, eyes and mouth
wide open. Grandfather Frog was looking his very best in his handsome
green coat and white-and-yellow waistcoat. But Peter had hardly noticed
these at all.
"Why, you're all mouth!" he exclaimed, and then looked very much ashamed
of his impoliteness.
Grandfather Frog's great goggly eyes twinkled. He knew that Peter was
very young and innocent and just starting out in the Great World. He
knew that Peter didn't intend to be impolite.
"Not quite," said he good-naturedly. "Not quite all mouth, though I must
admit that it is of good size. The fact is, I wouldn't have it a bit
smaller if I could. If it were any smaller, I should miss many a good
meal, and if I were forced to do that, I am afraid I should be very
ill-tempered indeed. The truth is, I am very proud of my big mouth. I
don't know of any one who has a bigger one for their size."
He opened his mouth wide, and it seemed to Peter that Grandfather
Frog's whole head simply split in halves. He hadn't supposed anybody in
all the Great World possessed such a mouth.
"Where did you get it?" gasped Peter, and then felt that he had asked a
very foolish question.
Grandfather Frog chuckled. "I got it from my father, and he got his from
his father, and so on, way back to the days when the world was young and
the Frogs ruled the world," said he. "Would you like to hear about it?"
"I'd love to!" cried Peter. So he settled himself comfortably on the
bank of the Smiling Pool for the first of many, many stories he was to
hear from Grandfather Frog.
"Chug-a-rum!" began Grandfather Frog. You know he always begins a story
that way. "Chug-a-rum! Once upon a time the Great World was mostly
water, and most of the people lived in the water. It was in those days
that my great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather lived. Those were happy
days for the Frogs. Yes, indeed, those were happy days for the Frogs. Of
course they had enemies, but those enemies were all in the water. They
didn't have to be watching out for danger from the air and from the
land, as I do now. There was plenty to eat and little to do, and the
Frog tribe increased very fast. In fact, the Frogs increased so fast
that after a while there wasn't plenty to eat. That is, there wasn't
plenty of the kind of food they had been used to, which was mostly water
plants, and water bugs and such things.
"Of course there were many fish, and these also increased very fast,
and the big fish ate the Frogs whenever they could catch them, just as
they do to this day. The big fish also ate the little fish, and it
wasn't long before the Frogs and the little fish took to living where
the water was not deep enough for the big fish to swim, and this made it
all the harder to get enough to eat. The mouths of the Frogs in those
days were not big. In fact, they were quite small. You see, living on
the kind of food they did, they had no need of big mouths.
"One day as a Great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather Frog sat with just
his head out of water, wondering what it would seem like to have his
stomach really filled, a school of little fish came swimming about him,
and it popped into his head that if little fish were good for big fish
to eat, they might be good for a Frog to eat. So he caught the first
one that came within reach, and he found it was good to eat. He liked it
so well that after that he caught fish whenever he could. Of course he
swallowed them whole. He had to, because he had no chewing or biting
teeth.
"Now the Frogs always have been famous for their appetites, and
Great-grandfather Frog found that it took a great many of these teeny
weeny fish to make a comfortable meal. He was thinking of this one day
when a larger fish came within reach, and almost without realizing what
he was doing Great-grandfather snapped at and caught him. He caught the
fish by the tail and at once began to swallow it, which, of course, was
no way to swallow a fish. But Great-grandfather Frog had much to learn
in those day, and so he tried to swallow that fish tail first instead
of head first. He got the tail down and the smallest part of the body,
and then that fish stuck. Yes, Sir, that fish stuck. The fact was,
Great-grandfather Frog's mouth wasn't wide enough. It was bad enough not
to be able to swallow all of that fish, but what was worse was the
discovery that he couldn't get up again what he had swallowed. That fish
was stuck! It would go neither down nor up.
"Poor Great-grandfather Frog was in a terrible fix. Big tears rolled
down his cheeks. He choked and choked and choked, until it looked very
much as if he might choke to death. Just in time, in the very nick of
time, who should come along but Old Mother Nature. She saw right away
what the trouble was, and she pulled out the fish. Then she asked how
that fish had happened to be in such a place as Great-grandfather Frog's
mouth. When he could get his breath, he told her all about it--how food
had been getting scarce and how he had discovered that fish were good to
eat, and how he had make a mistake in catching a fish too big for his
mouth. Old Mother Nature looked thoughtful. She saw the great numbers of
young fish. Suddenly she reached over and put a finger in
Great-grandfather Frog's mouth and stretched it sideways. Then she did
the same thing to the other corner. Great-grandfather Frog's mouth was
three times as big as it had been before.
"'Now,' said she, 'I don't believe you'll have any more trouble, and I'm
going to do the same thing for all the other Frogs.'
"She did that very day, and from then on the Frogs no longer had any
trouble in getting plenty to eat. So that is where I got my big mouth,
and I tell you right now I wouldn't trade it for anything anybody else
has got," concluded Grandfather Frog, as he snapped up a foolish green
fly who came too near.
"I think it is splendid, perfectly splendid," cried Peter. "I wish I had
one just like it." And then he wondered why Grandfather Frog laughed so
hard.
II
WHERE MISER THE TRADE RAT FIRST SET UP SHOP
It was quite by accident that Peter Rabbit first heard of Miser the
Trade Rat. You know how it is with Peter; he is forever using those big
ears of his to learn interesting things. That is what ears are for; but
there is a right way and a wrong way to use them, and I am afraid that
Peter isn't always over-particular in this respect. I suspect, in fact I
know, that Peter sometimes listens when he has no business to listen and
knows he has no business to listen. Again he sometimes overhears things
quite by accident when he cannot very well help hearing. It was in this
way that he first heard of Miser the Trade Rat.
Peter had crept into a hollow log in the Green Forest to rest and to
feel absolutely safe while he was doing it. He had been there only a
little while when he heard light footsteps outside and a moment later a
voice which made him shiver a little in spite of himself and the
knowledge that he was perfectly safe. The footsteps and the voice were
Old Man Coyote's.
Very carefully Peter peeped out. Old Man Coyote had sat down close by
the log in which Peter was hiding. On a dead tree close at hand sat Ol'
Mistah Buzzard, who had come up from way down south for the summer, and
it was to him that Old Man Coyote was talking.
"I was over by Farmer Brown's barn last night," said Old Man Coyote,
"and I caught a glimpse of Robber the Brown Eat. What a disgrace he is
to the whole Rat tribe! For that matter, he is a disgrace to all who
live on the Green Meadows and in the Green Forest. He isn't much like
his cousin, Miser the Trade Rat."
"Mah goodness! Do yo' know Miser?" exclaimed Ol' Mistah Buzzard.
"Do I know Miser? I should say I do!" replied Old Man Coyote. "I've
tried to catch him enough times to know him. He kept a junk shop very
near where I used to live way out west. Do you know him, Mr. Buzzard?"
"Ah cert'nly does," chuckled Ol' Mistah Buzzard. "Ah cert'nly does. Ah
never did see such a busy fellow as he is. Ah done see his junk shop
many times, and always it done be growin' bigger. Ah wonders, Brer Coyote,
if yo' ever heard the story of his Great-great-ever-so-great-gran'-daddy,
the first of the family, and how and where he started the business that's
been kept in the family ever since."
"No," said Old Man Coyote, "I never did, and I've wondered about it a
great deal."
Peter Rabbit almost forgot that he was hiding. He was so eager to hear
that story that he was right on the point of speaking up and begging Ol'
Mistah Buzzard to tell it when he remembered Old Man Coyote. Just in the
nick of time he clapped a hand over his mouth. It seemed to Peter a
long, long time before Old Man Coyote said:
"I'd like to hear that story, Mr. Buzzard, if it isn't too much to ask
of you."
"Not at all, Brer Coyote; not at all. Ah'll be mor'n pleased to tell it
to yo'. Ah cert'nly will," said Ol' Mistah Buzzard, and Peter settled
himself comfortably to listen.
"Yo' see it was this way," began Ol' Mistah Buzzard. "Ah got it from mah
gran'daddy, and he got it from his gran'daddy, and his gran'daddy got it
from--"
"I know," interrupted Old Man Coyote. "It was handed down from your
greatest-great-grandfather, who lived in the days when the world was
young and what you are going to tell me about happened. Isn't that it?"
"Yes, Suh," replied Ol' Mistah Buzzard. "Yes, Suh, that's it. Ol' Mother
Nature treat 'em all alike in those days. She's a right smart busy
person, and she ain't got no time fo' to answer foolish questions. No,
Suh, she ain't. So, quick as she get a new kind of critter made, she
turn him loose and tell him if he want to live he got to be right smart
and find out for hisself how to do it. Ah reckons yo' know all about
that, Brer Coyote."
Old Man Coyote nodded, and Ol' Mistah Buzzard scratched his bald head
gently as if trying to stir up his memory. Peter Rabbit almost squealed
aloud in his impatience while he waited for Ol' Mistah Buzzard to go on.
"When Ol' Mother Nature made Brer Trade Rat in the beginning and turned
him loose in the Great World, he was just plain Mistah Rat and nothing
more, same as his no 'count cousin, Robber the Brown Rat," continued Ol'
Mistah Buzzard. "He had to win a name for hisself same as ev'ybody else.
He had mighty sharp wits, had this Mistah Rat, and directly he found he
had to shift for hisself he began to study and study and study what he
gwine to do to live well and be happy. He watched his neighbors to see
what they did, and it didn't take him long to find out that if he would
be respected he must have a home. Those without homes were mostly no
'count folks, same as they are today.
"So Brer Rat made a nest close to the trunk of a tree on the edge of the
Green Forest, a soft, warm nest, and in collectin' the stuff to make it
of he learned the joy of bein' busy. Person'ly, yo' understand, Ah
thinks he was all wrong. Ah never am so happy as when Ah can take a
sun-bath with nothin' to do. But Brer Rat was never so happy as when he
was busy, and when he got that li'l nest finished time began to hang
heavy on his hands. Yes, Suh, it cert'nly did. Just because he didn't
have anything else to do he began to add a little more to his house. One
day he stepped on a thorn. 'Ouch!' cried Brer Rat, and then right away
forgot the pain in a new idea. He would cover his house with thorns,
leavin' just a little secret entrance for hisself! Then he would be
safe, wholly safe from his big neighbors, some of whom had begun to look
at him with such a hungry look in their eyes that they made him right
smart uncomfortable. So he spent his time, did Brer Rat, in huntin' for
the longest and sharpest thorns and in cuttin' the branches on which
they grew. These he carried to his house and piled them around it and on
it until it had become a great pile with sharp thorns stickin' out in
every direction, and the hungriest of the big people of the forest
passed it at a respectful distance.
"When Brer Rat had all the thorns he needed and more, he began to
collect other things and added these to his pile. Yo' see, he had found
that it was great fun to collect things; to find the queerest things he
could and bring them home and look at them and wonder about them. So
little by little his house became a sort of junk shop, the very first
one in all the Great World. Bright stones and shells, bones, anything
that caught his bright eyes and pleased them, he brought home. When he
was tired of huntin' fo' food or more strange things he would sit and
gloat over his treasures and play with them. And then the first thing he
knew he had a name. Yes, Suh, he had a name. He was called Miser.
"Of course Brer Miser hadn't lived ve'y long befo' he found out that
one law of the Great World was that things belonged to whoever could get
them and keep them. He saw that some thought themselves ve'y smart when
they stole from their neighbors. Brer Miser didn't like this at all. He
was ve'y, ye'y honest, was Brer Miser. Perhaps he wasn't really much
tempted, not fo' a long time anyway.
"But at last came a time when he was tempted. Quite by accident he found
one of Mr. Squirrel's storehouses. In it were some nuts different from
any he ever had seen befo'. 'Brer Squirrel won't mind if Ah taste just
one,' said he, and did it. It tasted good; it tasted ve'y good indeed.
Brer Miser began to wish he had some nuts like those. When he got home
he couldn't think of anything but how good those nuts tasted. He knew
that all he had to do was to watch until Brer Squirrel was away and
then go he'p hisself. He knew that was just what any of his neighbors
would do in his place. But Brer Miser couldn't make it seem just right
any way he looked at it. He was too honest, was Brer Miser, to do
anything like that.
"He was sitting staring at his treasures but thinking about those nuts
when an idea popped into his head, an idea that made him smile until Ah
reckons he most split his cheeks. 'Ah knows what Ah'll do,' said he.
'Ah'll just he'p mahself to some of those nuts and Ah'll leave something
of mine in place of them. That's what Ah'll do.'
"And that's what he did do. He picked out a bright shell of which he was
very fond and he left it in Brer Squirrel's storehouse to pay fo' the
nuts that he took. After that he always helped himself to anything he
wanted, but he always left something to pay fo' it. It wasn't long befo'
his neighbors found out what he was doing, and then they called him
Miser the Trade Rat. Whenever anybody found something he didn't want
hisself, he took it to the little junk shop of Miser the Trade Rat and
traded it fo' something else, or left it where Miser would find it,
knowing that Miser would leave something in its place.
"And it's been just so with Miser's family ever since. There is one Rat
who is a credit to his family instead of a disgrace," concluded Ol'
Mistah Buzzard.
III
WHERE YAP-YAP THE PRAIRIE DOG USED HIS WITS
Peter Rabbit had just had a great fright. He is used to having great
frights, but this time it was a different kind of a fright. It was not
for himself that he had been afraid but for one of his old friends and
neighbors. Now that it was over, Peter drew a little breath of sheer
relief.
You see it was this way: Peter had started over for a call on Johnny
Chuck. When he reached Johnny Chuck's house he found no one at home. At
first he thought he would go look for Johnny, for he knew that Johnny
must be somewhere near, as he never goes far from his own doorstep. Then
he changed his mind and decided to wait for Johnny to return. So he
stretched himself out in some tall grass beside Johnny Chuck's house,
intending to jump out and give Johnny a scare when he came home. Hardly
had he settled himself when he heard Johnny coming, and he knew by the
sounds that Johnny was running from some danger.
Very, very carefully Peter raised his head to see. Then he ducked it
again and held his breath. Johnny Chuck was running as Peter never had
seen him run before and with very good reason. Just a few jumps behind
Johnny's twinkling little black heels was Old Man Coyote. It looked to
Peter as if Old Man Coyote certainly would catch Johnny Chuck this time.
He was so frightened for Johnny that he quite forgot that he himself
might be in danger. Head first through his doorway plunged Johnny, and
Old Man Coyote's teeth snapped together on nothing.
Old Man Coyote backed away a few steps and sat down with his head on one
side as he studied Johnny Chuck's house in the ground. It was plain to
be seen that he was trying to make up his mind whether it would be worth
while to try to dig Johnny out. Presently Johnny came half-way up his
long hall where he could look out. Then he began to scold Old Man
Coyote. Old Man Coyote grinned.
"I give up, Johnny Chuck," said he. "You did well when you made your
home between the roots of this old tree. If it wasn't for those roots,
I certainly would dig you out. As it is you are safe. You remind me very
much of your cousin, Yap-Yap the Prairie Dog, who lives out where I came
from. There's a fellow who certainly knows how to make a house in the
ground. He doesn't have to depend on the roots of trees to keep from
being dug out. Well, I guess it is a waste of time to hang around here.
You'll make just as good a dinner some other time as you would now, so
I'll wait until then." Old Man Coyote grinned wickedly and trotted off.
Now at the mention of Yap-Yap the Prairie Dog, the long ears of Peter
Rabbit had pricked up at once. It was the first time he had heard of
Yap-Yap, and when at last Johnny Chuck ventured out Peter was as full of
questions as a pea-pod is of peas. But Johnny Chuck knew nothing about
his cousin, Yap-Yap, and wasn't even interested in him. So finally Peter
left him and went back home to the dear Old Briar-patch. But he couldn't
get Yap-Yap out of his mind, and he resolved that the first chance he
got he would ask Old Man Coyote about him. The chance came that very
night. Old Man Coyote came along by the dear Old Briar-patch and stopped
to peer in and grin at Peter. Peter grinned back, for he knew that under
those friendly brambles he was quite safe.
"I heard what you said to Johnny Chuck about his cousin, Yap-Yap," said
Peter.
Old Man Coyote looked as surprised as he felt. "Where were you?" he
demanded gruffly.
"Lying flat in the grass close by Johnny Chuck's house," replied Peter,
and grinned more broadly than ever.
"And to think I didn't know it!" sighed Old Man Coyote. "When I failed
to catch Johnny Chuck, I thought I had missed only one dinner, but it
seems I missed two. Next time I shall look around a little more sharply.
Do you know, the sight of Johnny Chuck always makes me homesick, he
reminds me so much of his cousin, Yap-Yap, and the days when I was
young."
"I didn't know that Johnny Chuck had a cousin until you mentioned it,"
said Peter. "Does he look like Johnny? Won't you tell me about him, Mr.
Coyote?"
"Seeing that I haven't anything in particular to do, I don't know but I
will," replied Old Man Coyote, who happened to be feeling very
good-natured. "Many and many a time I have chased Yap-Yap into his
house. Seems as if I can hear the rascal scolding me and calling me
names right this minute. He used to get me so provoked that it was all I
could do to keep from trying to dig him out."
"Why didn't you?" asked Peter.
"Because it would have meant a waste of time, sore feet, and nothing to
show for my trouble," retorted Old Man Coyote. "Yap-Yap never has
forgotten what his great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather learned when he
first took to living on the open prairie."
"What did he learn? Tell me about it, Mr. Coyote," begged Peter.
"He learned to use his wits," replied Old Man Coyote, with a provoking
grin. "He learned to use his wits, that's all."
"Please tell me about it, Mr. Coyote. Please," begged Peter.
"Once upon a time," began Old Man Coyote, "so my grandfather told me,
and he got it from his grandfather, who got it from his grandfather,
who--"
"I know," interrupted Peter. "It happened in the days when the world was
young."
Old Man Coyote looked at Peter very hard as if he had half a mind not to
tell the story, but Peter looked so innocent and so eager that he began
again. "Once upon a time lived the great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather
of Yap-Yap, the very first of all the Prairie Dogs, and his name was
Yap-Yap too. He was own cousin to old Mr. Woodchuck, who of course
wasn't old then, and the two cousins looked much alike, save that
Yap-Yap was a little smaller than Mr. Woodchuck and perhaps a little
smarter looking.
"From the very beginning Yap-Yap was a keen lover of the great open
spaces. Trees were all very well for those who liked them, but he
preferred to have nothing above him but the blue, blue sky. It seemed to
him that he never could find a big enough open space, so he never stayed
very long in any one place, but kept pushing on and on, looking for a
spot in the Great World that would just suit him. At last he came to the
edge of the Green Forest, and before him, as far as he could see,
stretched the Green Meadows. At least it was like the Green Meadows,
only a million thousand times as big as the Green Meadows we are on now,
Peter, and was really the Great Prairie.
"Yap-Yap looked and looked, then he drew a long breath of pure joy and
started out across the green grass. On and on he went, until when he sat
up and looked this way or that way or the other way he could see nothing
but grass and flowers, and over him was naught but the blue, blue sky.
He had found the great open space of which he had dreamed, and he was
happy. So he ate and slept and played with the Merry Little Breezes and
grew fat.
"Then one day came Skimmer the Swallow and brought him news of the hard
times which had come to the rest of the Great World and how as a result
the big and the strong were hunting the small and the weak in order that
they themselves might live. When Skimmer had gone, Yap-Yap grew uneasy.
What if some of the big and strong people he had known should come out
there in quest of food and should find him? There was no place in which
to hide. There was no cave or hollow log.
"Yap-Yap looked at the strong claws Old Mother Nature had given him and
an idea came to him. He would dig a hole in the ground. So he dug a hole
on a long slant very much like the hole of Johnny Chuck; but when it was
finished a little doubt crept into his head and grew and grew. What was
to prevent some one who was very hungry from digging him out? So he
moved on a little way and started another hole, and this time he made it
almost straight down. Every day he made that hole deeper until it was
many feet deep. Then he made a turn in it and dug a long tunnel, at the
end of which he hollowed out a comfortable bedroom and lined it with
grass. When it was finished he was quite satisfied.
"'I don't believe,' said he, 'that any one will have the patience to dig
to the bottom of this.'
"So at night he slept in his bed at the end of his long hall far below
the surface, but all day he spent above ground, for he dearly loved the
sunshine. All went well until there came a time of heavy rains. Then
Yap-Yap discovered that the water ran down his hole, and if he didn't do
something, he was likely to be drowned out. Right away he set his sharp
wits to work. He noticed that when the water on the surface reached the
little piles of sand he had made, it ran around them. So he made a great
mound of sand around his hole with the entrance in the middle and
pressed it firm on the inside so that the rain would not wash it down
in. Then, although the water stood all around, it no longer ran down in
his house. In fair weather that mound was a splendid place on which to
sit and watch for danger. So once more Yap-Yap was happy and care-free,
all because he had used his wits.
"And from that day to this the Prairie Dogs have made their houses in
just that way, and no one that I know cares to try to dig one out,"
concluded Old Man Coyote.
IV
WHERE YELLOW-WING GOT HIS LIKING FOR THE GROUND
Peter Rabbit was hopping along on the edge of the Green Meadows, looking
for a new patch of sweet clover. It was very beautiful that morning, and
Peter was in the best of spirits. It was good just to be alive. Every
once in a while Peter would jump up and kick his long heels together
just from pure happiness. He was so happy that he didn't pay particular
attention to where he was going or what was about him. The result was
that Peter got a fright. Right from under his very nose something sprang
out of the grass so suddenly and so wholly unexpectedly that Peter very
nearly tumbled over backward. He made two long jumps off to one side and
then turned to see what had startled him so. But all he saw was an old
feathered acquaintance headed towards the Old Orchard. He seemed to
bound along through the air much as Peter bounds along over the ground
when he is in a hurry. It was Yellow-Wing the Flicker.
Peter grinned and looked a little foolish. He felt a little foolish. You
know it always makes you feel foolish to be frightened when there is
nothing to be afraid of. Peter watched Yellow-Wing until he disappeared
among the trees of the Old Orchard, from which presently his voice
sounded clear and loud, and in it there was a mocking note as if
Yellow-Wing were laughing at him. Peter suspected that he was. But
Peter was feeling too happy to mind being laughed at. In fact, he
chuckled himself. It was something of a joke to be frightened by one who
was so wholly harmless. Peter recalled how many times he had frightened
other people and thought it the best of jokes.
Peter went on until he found a new patch of sweet clover. Then he forgot
all about Yellow-Wing. He was too busy filling that big stomach of his
to think of anything else. When he couldn't find room for another leaf
of clover he went home to the dear Old Briar-patch, and there in his
favorite spot he settled himself to rest and think or dream as the case
might be. Presently his thoughts returned to Yellow-Wing, and he
chuckled again at the memory of his fright that morning. And then for
the first time it struck Peter as queer that Yellow-Wing should have
been out there on the Green Meadows on the ground. He often had seen
Yellow-Wing on the ground, but until that moment there never had seemed
anything queer about that. Now, however, it suddenly came to Peter that
Yellow-Wing belonged in trees, not on the ground.
Peter scratched his long left ear with his long left hind foot, which
was a sign that he was thinking of something that puzzled him. "He
belongs to the Woodpecker family," thought Peter, "and never have I seen
any of his relatives on the ground. They get all their food in the
trees. Now why is Yellow-Wing so different from his relatives?"
The more Peter thought about it, the queerer it seemed that a Woodpecker
should spend so much time on the ground, or visit the ground at all,
for that matter. But just wondering about it didn't get him anywhere,
and at last Peter decided that the only way to find out would be to ask
questions. So Peter made up his mind to watch for Yellow-Wing and ask
him all about it the first chance he got.
The chance came the very next day in the very same place where Peter had
been so startled. This time he was on the watch and saw Yellow-Wing very
busy about something. Peter stole up within speaking distance.
"Good morning, Yellow-Wing," said he. "I wonder if you will tell me
something."
It was Yellow-Wing's turn to be startled, for he had not seen Peter
approaching. He half lifted his wings to fly, but when he saw who it
was, he changed his mind.
"It all depends on what it is you want me to tell you," he replied
rather shortly.
"It is just this," replied Peter. "Why do you spend so much time on the
ground?"
"That's easily answered," laughed Fellow-Wing. "I do it because it is
the easiest way to get enough to eat."
Peter looked as surprised as he felt. "I thought that all your family
got their living in the trees!" he exclaimed.
"All do but me," replied Yellow-Wing a wee bit testily. "But I don't
have to do what they do just because they do it. No, Siree, I'm
independent! Do you like ants, Peter?"
"What?" exclaimed Peter.
"I asked if you like ants," repeated Yellow-Wing.
"I've never tried them," Peter replied, "but I've heard Old Mr. Toad
say they are very nice."
"They are," said Yellow-Wing. "They are more than nice--they are
de-li-cious. It is because of them that I spend so much time on the
ground. Ants changed the habits of the Flicker branch of the Woodpecker
family. I wouldn't be surprised if we became regular ground birds one of
these days."
Peter looked puzzled. He kept turning it over in his mind as he watched
Yellow-Wing plunge his long stout bill into an ant hill and then gobble
up the ants as they came rushing out to see what the trouble was.
"I don't see how ants could change the habits of anybody," he ventured
after a while.
Yellow-Wing's eyes twinkled. "Why don't you learn to eat them?" he
demanded. "If you would, they might change _your_ habits. The beginning
of the change in the habits of my folks began a long time ago."
"Way back in the beginning of things, when the world was young?" asked
Peter.
"No, not quite so far back as that," replied Yellow-Wing.
"Great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather, who was the first Flicker, was,
of course, a member of the Woodpecker family, and he got his living in
regular Woodpecker fashion. It never entered his head to look for food
anywhere but in the trees, and I don't suppose that it ever entered his
head to set foot on the ground. It was the same with his children and
his children's children for a long time.
"But though they lived as true Woodpeckers should, the Flickers always
were a bit sharper-witted and more independent than most of their
relatives. For one thing they had discovered that ants were fine eating
and that great numbers of them were to be found running up and down the
trunks of certain trees. So the Flickers used to look for these trees
and feast on the ants. It saved a lot of labor. A stomachful of ants
could be picked from the trunk of a tree in the time it would take to
dig out one worm in the wood, to say nothing of the saving of hard work.
"One day a few years ago my great-great-great-grandfather, so the story
goes, had stuffed himself with ants from the trunk of a tree and had
settled himself for a rest. From where he sat he could see a procession
of ants going up and down the tree, and he got to wondering where they
all came from and where they all went to. So he watched and presently
discovered that that double line of ants led out along the ground from
the foot of the tree. This made him still more curious and he followed
it, flying along just over it. He had gone but a short distance when he
came to a little mound of sand, and there the line of ants ended.
Grandfather Flicker flew up in a tree from which he could look right
down on that mound, and it didn't take him long to discover that those
ants were going in and out of little holes in that mound.
"'As I live, that must be their home!' exclaimed he. 'That place is
alive with them. What a place to fill one's stomach! I never was on the
ground in my life, but the next time I'm hungry, I'm going to see what
the ground is like. I won't have to stay on it long to get my dinner
here.'
"Grandfather Flicker was as good as his word. When he was ready for
another meal, he flew down to that ant hill. He found that when he
plunged his bill into it, the ants fairly poured out to see what was
happening, and all he had to do was to thrust out his long sticky tongue
and lick them up. Never in all his life before had he filled his stomach
so easily. After that, instead of wasting time hunting for worms and
insects in the trees where he could find only one at a time, Grandfather
Flicker kept his eyes open for ant hills on the ground. He taught his
children to do the same thing. That was the beginning of the change of
habits with the Flickers. Ever since we have spent more and more time on
the ground, so that now we feel quite at home there. We still get some
of our food in the trees by way of variety, and we make our homes there,
but a good big part of our food we get just as I am doing now."
With this Yellow-Wing once more plunged his bill into the ant hill and
licked up a dozen ants who had come rushing out to see what was going
on. And so once more the curiosity of Peter Rabbit was satisfied, and he
had learned something.
V
WHERE LITTLE CHIEF LEARNED TO MAKE HAY
No one in all the Great World thinks more of the present and less of the
future than does careless, happy-go-lucky Peter Rabbit. Everybody who
knows Peter at all knows that Peter doesn't waste any time worrying over
what may happen in a day that may never be. So Peter isn't thrifty as
are Happy Jack Squirrel and Chatterer the Red Squirrel and Whitefoot the
Wood Mouse and Paddy the Beaver and Striped Chipmunk.
"I've got enough to eat today, and enough is enough, so what is the use
of working when I don't have to?" says Peter. "I don't believe in
working today so that I won't have to work tomorrow, because when
tomorrow comes there may be no need of working, and then I would feel
that I had wasted all this good time today." No, Peter isn't the least
bit thrifty.
It is the same way with Peter's big cousin, Jumper the Hare. The truth
is the whole family is happy-go-lucky. Happy Jack Squirrel says that
every blessed one of them is shiftless. It does look that way. It is a
pity that Peter and Jumper never have learned a lesson from Little Chief
Hare, who is commonly supposed to be a relative of theirs, although, as
a matter of fact, he is neither a Hare nor a Rabbit, but is a Pika,
which is another family altogether. He is also called a Coney and
sometimes the Calling Hare. But if you want sure-enough proof that he
is neither a Rabbit nor a Hare, just watch him, if you are lucky enough
to have a chance, cut and dry and store away a great pile of hay for
winter use. No true member of Peter's family ever would think of doing
such a thing as that, more is the pity.
Peter never has seen Little Chief, because Little Chief lives high up on
a mountain of the Far West among the rocks where Peter would never go,
even if he could, but he has heard all about him. Old Man Coyote told
him all about him, and he got the story from his grandfather, who got it
from his grandfather, who had one time visited the great mountain where
Little Chief's ever-so-great-grandfather lived in the very place where
Little Chief lives now. Old Man Coyote had chased Peter into the dear
Old Briar-patch one cold winter day, and as he peered through the
brambles at Peter he noticed that Peter was very thin, very thin indeed.
Old Man Coyote grinned.
"I'm just as well pleased not to have caught you this time, Peter," said
he. "You wouldn't make much of a dinner just now. When I dine I want
something more than skin and bones. It must be that you are having as
hard work as I am to get a living these days."
"I am," replied Peter. "With all this snow and ice on the ground, there
is nothing to eat but bark and such tender twigs as I can reach, and
they are not very filling. But they'll keep me alive until better times
come, and then perhaps I'll get fat enough to suit you." It was Peter's
turn to grin.
Old Man Coyote grinned back good-naturedly. "I should think, Peter,"
said he, "that when there is so much sweet grass and clover in the
summer, you would make some of it into hay and store it away for winter,
as Little Chief Hare does. There's the thrifty little hay-maker for
you!"
"Who is Little Chief, and where did he learn to make hay?" demanded
Peter, his ears standing straight up with curiosity.
Old Man Coyote likes to tell a story once in a while, and having nothing
else to do just then, he sat down just outside the dear Old Briar-patch
and told Peter all about Little Chief and his hay-making.
"Of course," said he, "Little Chief's father taught him how to make hay,
and his father's father taught him, and so on way back to the days when
the world was young and Old Mother Nature made the first Pika or Coney,
whichever you please to call him, and set him free on a great mountain
to prove whether he was worthy to live or was so helpless that there was
no place for him in the Great World. Now Mr. Pika, who was promptly
called Little Chief, no one remembers now just why, was exactly like
Little Chief of today. He was just about a fourth as big as you, Peter.
In fact, he looked a lot like one of your babies, excepting his legs and
his ears. His legs were short and rather weak, and his ears were short
and rounded. He was very gentle and timid. He had neither the kind of
teeth and claws for fighting nor long legs for running away, and it did
seem as if Little Chief's chances of a long life and a happy one were
very slim indeed, especially as it happened that he was set free to
shift for himself just at the beginning of the hard times, when the big
and strong had begun to hunt the small and weak.
"For a while Little Chief had a hard time of it and so many narrow
escapes that his heart was in his mouth most of the time. In trying to
keep out of the way of his enemies he kept climbing higher and higher up
the mountain, for the higher he got the fewer enemies he found. At last
he came to a big rock-slide above where the trees grew, and where there
was nothing but broken stone and big rocks. The sun lay there very warm,
and Little Chief crept out among the stones to take a sun-bath; as he
squatted there it would have taken keen eyes indeed to tell him from a
stone himself, though he didn't know this.
"After he had had a good rest, and jolly Mr. Sun had moved so that
Little Chief was no longer in the warm rays, Little Chief decided to
look about a little. It didn't take him long to discover that there were
wonderful little winding galleries and hiding-places down among the
stones. These led to little cracks and caves deep down in the mountain
side. Little Chief was tickled almost to death.
"'This is the place for me!' he cried. 'No one ever will think to look
for me up here, and if they should they couldn't find me, for no one,
not even King Bear, could pull away these stones fast enough to catch
me. All day long I can enjoy the sun, and at night I can sleep in
perfect safety in one of these little caves.'
"So Little Chief made his home in the rock-slide high up on the mountain
and was happy, for it was just as he thought it would be--no one
thought of looking in that bare place for him. For food he ate the pea
vines and grasses and other green things that grew just at the edge of
the rock-slide and was perfectly happy. One day he decided he would take
some of his dinner into his little cave and eat it there. So he cut a
little bundle of pea vine and other green things. He left his little
bundle on a flat rock in the sun while he went to look for something
else and then forgot all about it. It didn't enter his head again until
a few days later he happened along by that flat rock and discovered that
little bundle. The pea vines and grasses were quite dry, just like the
hay Farmer Brown's boy helps his father store away in the barn every
summer.
"'I guess I don't want to eat that,' said Little Chief, 'but it will
make me a very nice bed.' So he carried it home and made a bed of it.
There wasn't quite enough, so the next day he cut some more and carried
it home at once. But this, being green, soon soured and smelled so badly
that he was forced to take it out and throw it away. That set him to
thinking. Why was the first he had brought in so dry and sweet and
pleasant? Why didn't it spoil as the other had done? He cut some more
and spread it out on the big flat rock and once again he forgot. When he
remembered and went to look at it two or three days later, he found it
just like the first, dry and sweet and very pleasant to smell. This he
took home to add to his bed. Then he took home some more that was green,
and this spoiled just as the other had done.
"Little Chief was puzzling over this as he squatted on a rock taking a
sun-bath. The sun was very warm and comforting. After a while the rock
on which he sat grew almost hot. Little Chief had brought along a couple
of pieces of pea vine on which to lunch, but not being hungry he left
them beside him on the rock. By and by he happened to glance at them.
They had wilted and already they were beginning to dry. An idea popped
into his funny little head.
"'It's the sun that does it!' he cried.
"Up he jumped and scampered away to cut some more and spread it out on
the rocks. Then he discovered that the pea vine which he spread in the
sun dried as he wanted it to, while any that happened to be left in the
shadow of a rock didn't dry so well. He had learned how to make hay. He
was the first hay-maker in the Great World. He soon had more than
enough for a bed, but he kept on making hay and storing it away just
for fun. Then came cold weather and all the green things died. There was
no food for Little Chief. He hunted and hunted, but there was nothing.
Then because he was so hungry he began to nibble at his hay. It tasted
good, very good indeed. It tasted almost as good as the fresh green
things. Little Chief's heart gave a great leap. He had food in plenty!
He had nothing to worry about, for his hay would last him until the
green things came again, as come they would, he felt sure.
"And so it proved. And that is how Little Chief the Pika learned to make
hay while the sun shone in the days of plenty. He taught his children
and they taught their children, and Little Chief of today does it just
as his great-great-ever-so-great-grand-daddy did. I don't see why you
don't do the same thing, Peter. You would make me a great deal finer
dinner if you did."
"Perhaps that is the reason I don't," replied Peter with a grin.
[Illustration: "Little Chief's father taught him how to
make hay." _Page 67._]
VI
WHERE GLUTTON THE WOLVERINE GOT HIS NAME
Glutton the Wolverine is a dweller in the depths of the Great Forests of
the Far North, and it is doubtful if Peter Rabbit would ever have known
that there is such a person but for his acquaintance with Honker the
Goose, who spends his summers in the Far North, but each spring and fall
stops over for a day or two in a little pond in the Green Forest, a pond
Peter often visits. This acquaintance with Honker and Peter's
everlasting curiosity have resulted in many strange stories. At least
they have seemed strange to Peter because they have been about furred
and feathered people whom Peter has never seen. And one of the strangest
of these is the story of how Glutton the Wolverine got his name.
Of course you know what a glutton is. It is one who is very, very, very
greedy and eats and eats as if eating were the only thing in life worth
while. It is one who is all the time thinking of his stomach. No one
likes to be called a glutton. So when Honker the Goose happened to
mention Glutton, it caused Peter to prick up his ears at once.
"Who's a glutton?" he demanded.
"I didn't say any one was a glutton," replied Honker. "I was speaking of
Glutton the Wolverine who lives in the Great Forests of the Far North,
and whom everybody hates."
"Is Glutton his name?" asked Peter, wrinkling his brows in perplexity,
for it seemed a very queer name for any one.
"Certainly," replied Honker. "Certainly that is his name, and a very
good name for him it is. But then of course it is because he _is_ a
glutton that he is named Glutton. Rather I should say that is the reason
the first Wolverine was named Glutton. The name has been handed down
ever since, and it fits Mr. Wolverine of today quite as well as ever it
did his great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather."
"Tell me about it," Peter begged. "Please tell me about it."
"Tell you about what?" asked Honker, pretending not to understand.