For just a second Peter was startled, then he recognized the voice of
Mrs. Grouse, one of his very best friends. "Yowler the Bob-cat," said he
as fiercely as before.
"I don't love him myself," replied Mrs. Grouse. "I suspected that he was
somewhere about, and that is why I am here. Did you see him?"
"Yes," said Peter, "I saw him. He was hiding beside my favorite little
path, and it is a wonder I didn't hop straight into his jaws. That
fellow doesn't hunt fairly. He doesn't give us a chance. He hasn't any
honor."
"Honor!" exclaimed Mrs. Grouse. "Honor! Of course he hasn't any honor.
There hasn't been any honor in Yowler's family since old Mr. Bob-cat,
the first of all the Bob-cats, left his honor in Turkey Wood, way back
in the days when the world was young, and failed to get it again. Honor!
Of course Yowler hasn't any. What could you expect?"
At once Peter was all ears. "I've never heard about that," said he.
"Tell me about it, Mrs. Grouse. We've got to stay right where we are for
a long time to make sure that Yowler has given us up and gone away, so
you will have plenty of time to tell me the story. Where was Turkey
Wood, and how did old Mr. Bob-cat happen to leave his honor there?"
"He didn't happen to; he did it deliberately," replied Mrs. Grouse. "You
see, it was like this: In the beginning of things, when Old Mother
Nature made the first little people and the first big people of the
Green Forest and the Green Meadows, she was too busy to watch over them
all the time, so for a while she put them on their honor not to harm one
another or interfere with one another in any way, for she wanted them to
live in peace and happiness and raise families to people the Great
World.
"Now it chanced that Mr. and Mrs. Gobbler, the first of the Turkey
family, chose a certain little grove of trees in which to make their
home, and it became known as Turkey Wood. There, in course of time, Mrs.
Turkey made her nest on the ground, well hidden among some bushes, and
in it laid twelve big eggs. It was the day on which she laid the twelfth
big egg that old Mr. Bob-cat, who, of course, wasn't old then, took it
into his head to prowl about in Turkey Wood. Already Mr. Bob-cat had
begun to form a sneaky habit of stealth. He was very fond of watching
his neighbors to find out what they were about, and it was this fondness
of minding the business of other people instead of his own that was
making him sneaky and stealthy, for of course he didn't want any one to
know what he was doing.
"It happened that as he stole into Turkey Wood, Mrs. Gobbler left her
nest to get a bite to eat. Mr. Bob-cat saw her, but she didn't see him.
He crouched flat until she was out of sight.
"'She seemed mighty careful about how she slipped out of those bushes,'
thought Mr. Bob-cat. 'She acted as if she didn't want to be seen. I
wonder why. I wonder if she has a secret hidden in those bushes. I
suppose the way to find out is to look.'
"First making sure that no one saw him, Mr. Bob-cat crept in his sneaky
way into the bushes, and it didn't take him long to find that nest with
the twelve big eggs. He didn't know what they were, for they were the
first eggs he had ever seen. He stared at them and wondered if they were
good to eat. He glanced this way and that way to be sure that no one was
watching him.
"'Don't touch them,' warned something inside of him. 'These belong to
Mrs. Gobbler, and Old Mother Nature has put you on your honor not to
interfere with others or their affairs.'
"'It won't do any harm just to touch them and see what they are like,'
said another little tempting voice inside of him.
"'Remember your honor,' warned the first little voice.
"'Bother my honor! I'm not going to do any harm,' muttered Mr. Bob-cat,
and picked up one of the eggs in his mouth. He tried it with his teeth
to see if it was hard, and of course he put his teeth right through the
shell. He started to put it back in a hurry, but just then he noticed a
good taste in his mouth. The inside of that egg was good to eat, very
good indeed!
"'One won't be missed,' thought Mr. Bob-cat, and then, fearing that Mrs.
Gobbler would return, he bounded away, taking the egg with him.
"When Mrs. Gobbler returned, she did miss that egg. She looked all about
for it, but there was nothing to show what had become of it. With a
troubled mind she began to sit on her eggs. She was so worried that she
didn't leave them until she simply _had_ to get something to eat.
"Meanwhile Mr. Bob-cat had eaten that egg, and it had tasted so good
that he could think of nothing but how he could get another. So at the
first opportunity he sneaked back to Turkey Wood, and without making a
sound crept in among the bushes until he could see Mrs. Gobbler sitting
on her eggs. There he lay and watched and watched until Mrs. Gobbler
left to get something to eat. No sooner was she out of sight than Mr.
Bob-cat stole to the nest.
"'Remember your honor,' warned the little voice inside.
"'Bother honor. I'd rather have an egg,' muttered Mr. Bob-cat, and
pulled one out of the nest. He bit a hole in one end and sucked out the
contents. It was so good he took another. This led to a third, and
finally Mr. Bob-cat had sucked every one of those eggs. Then silently he
sneaked away--away from Turkey Wood to a distant part of the Green
Forest. Behind him in Turkey Wood he left a nestful of empty shells and
his honor.
"'Nobody knows who did it, and nobody ever will find out,' thought Mr.
Bob-cat, but all the time he knew that he had left his honor behind, and
this made him more sneaky than ever. He never would meet any one face to
face. You know that is something that one who has lost his honor never
can do. It wasn't long before all his neighbors knew that he was without
honor, and so would have nothing to do with him. They shunned him. He
grew to be more and more of a sneak. And all the time he believed that
no one knew what he had done or where he had left his honor.
"But Old Mother Nature knew. Of course Mrs. Gobbler told her what had
happened to her eggs. Old Mother Nature told her to make a new nest and
hide it more carefully than before, which Mrs. Gobbler did and hatched
out ten fine young Gobblers. Meanwhile Old Mother Nature went about her
business, but all the time she was watching to see who would fail to
look her straight in the face. The first time she met Mr. Bob-cat he
tried to slip past unseen. When Old Mother Nature stepped in front of
him, he couldn't look her in the face, try as he would.
"'Ah-ha!' said she. 'You are the one who left his honor in Turkey Wood.
From this time forth you shall be an outcast, friendless and alone,
hated by every one.'
"And so it was, and has been ever since. And so it is with Yowler today.
You said truly, Peter, that he hasn't any honor. Isn't it dreadful?"
And Peter agreed that it is.
XV
WHERE DIPPY THE LOON GOT THE NAME OF BEING CRAZY
As you all know, Peter Rabbit is out and about at a time when most folks
are snugly tucked in bed. The fact is, Peter is very fond of roaming
around at night. He says he feels safer then in spite of the fact that
some of his smartest enemies are also out and about, among them Hooty
the Owl and Reddy Fox and Old Man Coyote. The two latter also hunt by
day when the fancy takes them or they have been so unsuccessful at night
that their stomachs won't give them any peace, and Peter is sure that
though they can see very well at night, they can see still better in
the light of day. Anyway, that is one of the reasons he gives for his
own liking for roaming after jolly, round, red Mr. Sun has gone to bed
behind the Purple Hills.
Now it happened one moonlight night that Peter had ventured way over
almost to the Big River. He had heard Hooty the Owl's fierce hunting
call far off in the Green Forest. He had heard Reddy Fox barking up in
the Old Pasture. So Peter felt quite safe. He felt so safe that he had
almost forgotten that there could be such a thing as fear. And then,
from the direction of the Big River, there came such a sound as Peter
never had heard before. It was a sound that made his heart seem to quite
stop beating for an instant. It was a sound that sent cold chills racing
and chasing all over him. It was a sound that made him wish with all
his might that he was that instant right in the heart of the dear Old
Briar-patch instead of way over there near the bank of the Big River.
He didn't waste much time getting back to the dear Old Briar-patch, once
he was sure his heart hadn't really stopped beating. The way he went
across the Green Meadows, lipperty-lipperty-lip, lipperty-lipperty-lip,
was positive proof that in spite of his fright his heart was quite all
right. He didn't run a little way, stop, run a little farther and stop
again, as is his usual way. He kept lipperty-lipperty-lipping without a
single stop until he reached the edge of the dear Old Briar-patch and
once more felt really safe. Two or three times he had felt that he must
stop to get his breath, but each time that sound, that dreadful sound,
had seemed to be following right at his heels, and he had suddenly
discovered that he didn't need to stop after all.
But having reached the dear Old Briar-patch Peter stopped and panted for
breath while he anxiously watched for the appearance of some unknown
enemy following him. It was then that he realized that that sound came
from the Big River, and that whoever made it had not left the Big River
at all. It made Peter feel a wee bit foolish as he thought how he had
been sure that there was danger right at his very heels all the way
home, when all the time there hadn't been any danger at all.
Peter sat there and listened, and despite the fact that he now felt
absolutely safe, the cold chills ran over him every time he heard it.
It was a voice; Peter was sure of that. It was a voice, but such a voice
as Peter never in his life had heard before. It was quite as bad if not
worse than the voice of Old Man Coyote. In a way it reminded him of Old
Man Coyote's voice, but while Old Man Coyote's voice sounded like many
voices in one, it was not so fearsome as this voice, for this voice
sounded like a human voice, yet wasn't. Something inside Peter told him
that it wasn't a human voice, in spite of its sounding so.
The next morning Peter ran over to the Smiling Pool to ask Grandfather
Frog if he had any idea who could have such a voice as that. When he
tried to tell Grandfather Frog what that voice was like, he couldn't. He
just couldn't describe it.
"It was the lonesomest and craziest sound I've ever heard," declared
Peter, "and that is all I can tell you. It was crazier than the voice of
Old Man Coyote."
"That is all you need tell me," chuckled Grandfather Frog. "That was the
voice of Dippy the Loon. And let me tell you something, Peter: you are
not the first one to think his voice has a crazy sound. Oh, my, no! No,
indeed! Why, a lot of people think Dippy _is_ crazy, and when any one
does queer things they say of him that he is 'crazy as a Loon.'
"But is he crazy?" asked Peter.
"Chug-a-rum!" exclaimed Grandfather Frog. "Chug-a-rum! Not half so
crazy as you are, Peter, coming over here to the Smiling Pool in
broad daylight. He likes to be thought crazy, just as his
great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather did before him, that's all.
Everybody thought his great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather was crazy,
and it paid Mr. Loon to have them think so. So he did his best to make
them keep thinking so."
"Tell me about it. Do please tell me about it, Grandfather Frog," begged
Peter. "Please, please, please."
Now how could Grandfather Frog resist that? He couldn't. He didn't even
try to. He just cleared his throat once or twice and began.
"Once on a time, long, long ago, lived the very first of all the Loons,
the ever-and-ever-and-ever-so-great-grandfather of Dippy, whose voice
frightened you so last night."
"How did you know it frightened me?" exclaimed Peter, for he had taken
care not to tell Grandfather Frog anything about that.
Grandfather Frog chuckled and went right on with his story. "Right from
the beginning Mr. Loon was a mighty independent fellow. It didn't take
him long to find out that Old Mother Nature had too much to do to waste
any time on those who didn't try to take care of themselves, and that
those would live longest who were smartest and most independent. He had
sharp eyes, had old Mr. Loon, just as Dippy has today, and he used them
to good account. He saw at once that with so many birds and animals
living on the land it was likely to get crowded after a while, and that
when such became the case, it was going to be mighty hard work for some
to get a living. So Mr. Loon went to Mother Nature and told her that if
she had no objections he would like a pair of swimming feet and would
live on the water.
"Now Old Mother Nature had just fitted out Mr. Duck with a pair of
webbed feet that he might swim, so she was quite prepared to fit Mr.
Loon out in like manner.
"'I suppose,' said she, 'that you want a bill like Mr. Duck's.'
"Mr. Loon shook his head. 'Thank you,' said he, 'but I would prefer a
sharp bill to a broad one.'
"'How is that?' exclaimed Mother Nature. 'Mr. Duck has been delighted
with his bill ever since I gave it to him.'
"'And with good reason,' replied Mr. Loon. 'Did I propose to live as Mr.
Duck lives, I should want a bill just like his, but I find that fish are
more to my liking. Also I have noticed that there are fewer who eat
fish.'
"So Mother Nature gave him the kind of bill he wanted, and Mr. Loon
went about his business. He managed to get fish enough to keep from
going hungry, but he found that the only way he could do it was to sit
perfectly still until a fish swam within reach and then strike swiftly.
In fact, his fishing was much like that of Mr. Heron, save that the
latter stood instead of sitting. Success was chiefly the result of luck
and patience.
"Now this sort of thing was not at all to the liking of Mr. Loon. He
gloried in his strength and he wanted to hunt for his fish and catch
them in fair chase instead of waiting for them to unsuspectingly swim
within reach. He practised and practised swimming and diving, but he
soon made up his mind that he never would be able to move through the
water fast enough to catch a fish unless there was some change. He
watched the fish swim, and he saw that the power which drove them
through the water came from their tails. Mr. Loon grew very thoughtful.
"The next time Mother Nature came around to see how everybody was
getting on, to hear complaints, and to grant such requests as seemed
wise, Mr. Loon was on hand. 'If you please,' said he when his turn came,
'I would like my legs moved back to the lower end of my body.'
"Mother Nature was surprised. She looked it. 'But you'll hardly be able
to walk at all with your legs there!' she exclaimed.
"Mr. Loon said that he knew that, and that he didn't want to walk. He
would far rather spend all his time on the water. So Mother Nature
granted his request. Mr. Loon thanked her and started for the water. He
couldn't keep his balance. He simply flopped along, while all his
neighbors, who had heard his queer request, jeered at him and called him
crazy. He just didn't pay any attention, but flopped along until he
reached the water. Then he swam away swiftly. When he was quite by
himself with none to see, he dived, and as he had hoped, he found that
he could drive himself through the water at great speed. He practised a
while and then he went fishing. When he caught his first fish in a fair
chase, he was so delighted that he shrieked and shouted and laughed in
the wildest fashion far into the night. And those who had heard his
strange request and thought him crazy were sure of it, as they listened
to his wild laughter.
"So little by little it was spread about among all the other people
that Mr. Loon was crazy, and he was left much to himself, which was
just what he desired. He was quick to note that the sound of his voice
sent shivers over some of his neighbors, and so he would shriek and
laugh just to drive them away. It pleased him to have them think him
crazy, and he kept it up.
"So it is with Dippy today, and last night you ran from the voice of a
crazy Loon who isn't crazy at all, but likes to make people think he
is," concluded Grandfather Frog.
XVI
WHERE BIG-HORN GOT HIS CURVED HORNS
It was Digger the Badger who told Peter Rabbit the story of the great
Ram who was the first of all the wild Sheep who live on the tops of the
mountains bounding the great plains of the Far West on which Digger was
born. It happened that Farmer Brown's flock of Sheep were grazing in the
Old Pasture in plain sight of Digger as he sat on his doorstep watching
his shadow grow longer. At the head of the flock was a Ram whose horns
curved around in almost a circle, and whom Peter Rabbit often had
admired.
Peter happened along as Digger sat there on his doorstep watching his
shadow grow longer, so he sat down at a safe and respectful distance and
helped Digger watch his shadow grow longer. Peter delights in doing
things like this, because it isn't hard work at all. It is only when
there is real work concerned that Peter loses interest. A lot of people
are just like Peter in this respect.
Peter gazed over at the Old Pasture and he, too, saw Farmer Brown's
Sheep and the big Ram with the curving horns at his head. For a long
time Peter had greatly admired those horns, though he never had told any
one so. He had admired those horns because they were different from any
other horns Peter ever had seen. They looked perfectly useless for
fighting because they curved so that the points never could be made to
hurt any one, but just the same Peter admired them. Now as he watched he
spoke aloud, without thinking what he was doing.
"I wish I had a pair of horns like those," said he wistfully.
Digger the Badger stopped watching his shadow, and turned to stare at
Peter. Then he laughed until finally he choked. Peter looked at him in
surprise.
"What's the matter with you, Mr. Badger?" asked he. "What is there to
laugh at?"
"Only you, Peter. Only you," replied Digger faintly, for he had laughed
so hard that he had almost lost his voice. "I am afraid you would find a
pair of horns like those rather heavy, Peter, rather heavy."
Peter grinned. "Of course I didn't really mean that," said he. "Of
course not. I was just thinking how nice it would be to have such fine
horns, if one were big enough to have horns. I don't believe there are
any other such horns in all the Great World."
"And that shows how little you know about the Great World, Peter,"
retorted Digger the Badger.
"Did you ever see such horns before?" demanded Peter.
"No, I never did," confessed Digger, "but I've heard my grandfather
tell of Sheep that live on the tops of the great mountains as free
as Light-foot the Deer or any other of the Green Forest people,
and with horns so large that they, the Sheep, are called Big-Horns.
From what I have heard my grandfather say, those horns over there of
Mr. Ram's are nothing to brag about. No, Sir, they are nothing to brag
about. One of those wild, free cousins of Mr. Ram over there would
laugh at those horns. But they are funny horns, and they've been
like that always since the days of the first great Ram, the
great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather of all the Sheep, so my
grandfather told me. It was way back in those long-ago days that they
became curved and quite useless for fighting, and all because of old
Big-Horn going about with a chip on his shoulder."
Peter pricked up his ears. "That was a funny thing for Big-Horn to be
doing," said he. "What under the sun did he have a chip on his shoulder
for? And what harm was there in that, even if he did?"
Once more Digger began to laugh. "Peter," said he, "you certainly are
the funniest fellow I know. Of course old Big-Horn didn't really have a
chip on his shoulder. That is just a saying, Peter, just a saying. When
any one goes about looking for trouble and ready to quarrel at the least
pretext, he is said to be carrying a chip on his shoulder and daring
anybody to knock it off."
"Oh!" said Peter.
"And so," continued Digger, "Big-Horn didn't have anything to do with a
really, truly chip, but just went about always trying to get somebody to
fight with him. It wasn't that Big-Horn was ugly. He wasn't. You see Old
Mother Nature had given him great strength. Yes, Sir, for his size
Big-Horn was very strong, and in that strength be took great pride. And
Mother Nature had given him a pair of very large and strong horns with
which to defend himself if there should be need. Those horns were almost
straight, and with Big-Horn's great strength behind them, they were
truly dangerous weapons. He didn't think of that. No, Sir, he didn't
think of that. He was just brimming full of life, and he dearly loved to
try his strength against the strength of others. It got so that the
instant he saw anybody, down would go his head and at them he would go
full tilt.
"It was great fun--for him. Sometimes he got the worst of it, as when
Old King Bear stepped aside at the very last instant and hit him such a
clip with his great paw that Big-Horn was sent rolling over and over and
lost his breath for a few minutes. But usually it was the other who got
the worst of it, for those great, sharp-pointed horns of Big-Horn's tore
and hurt. Indeed, even when he tried to be gentle with those smaller
than himself he was forever hurting some one.
"Finally some of his neighbors wished to go to Old Mother Nature and
complain about Big-Horn, but others were against this plan because they
knew that Old Mother Nature was quite loaded down with cares and worries
as it was. So instead they called a meeting to which everybody except
Big-Horn was invited. If Big-Horn could have heard all that was said
about him, his ears surely would have burned. Every one was of the
opinion that something must be done, but just what no one could suggest.
At last, just when it seemed that the meeting would break up without
anything being done, Old Man Coyote stepped forward. Now Old Man Coyote
already was known as a very clever fellow, more clever even than Mr.
Fox, though it would never have done to say so where it would get back
to the ears of Mr. Fox.
"'Friends and neighbors,' said Old Man Coyote, 'it seems to me a very
simple matter to teach Neighbor Big-Horn a lesson that he will not soon
forget. Being rather bashful, I haven't liked to suggest it before,
because I thought surely some one else would do it. I suggest that some
one be selected to fight Big-Horn, and when that one can fight no
longer, some one else be selected to fight him, and so on until he gets
tired, and some one can whip him. Then I think he will have had enough
of fighting.'
"Up spoke Mr. Fox and he winked at his neighbor on the right and he
winked at his neighbor on the left. 'That is a very good idea of
Neighbor Coyote's,' said he, 'a very good idea indeed, and I suggest
that Mr. Coyote be selected for the honor of being the first one to
fight Big-Horn.' Mr. Fox grinned in a sly way, and everybody else
grinned, for everybody knew that Old Man Coyote never was known to fight
when there was a chance to run away. So with one accord everybody agreed
with Mr. Fox, and Old Man Coyote was selected as the first one to face
Big-Horn. To everybody's surprise, Old Man Coyote made no objections.
Instead he expressed himself as highly honored, and said that he hoped
to do so well that there would be no need for others to fight Big-Horn.
So it was arranged that Big-Horn should be invited to fight Old Man
Coyote the very next day.
"You may be sure that everybody was on hand the next day to see that
fight. No one expected Old Man Coyote to appear. But he did. Yes, Sir,
he did. He was right on hand at the appointed time. Big-Horn hadn't been
told whom he was to fight, and when he found that it was Old Man Coyote,
he was disappointed. You see, there was no anger in Big-Horn's fighting;
he fought just for the love of using his great strength and big horns.
Fighting was fun to him, and he wanted some one who would stand up to
him. As soon as it was explained to him that when he had disposed of Old
Man Coyote there would be some one else for him to fight (Mr. Deer had
offered to be the next), he felt better. Mr. Deer had horns and was
somewhere near his size.
"Old Man Coyote slipped around until he had his back to a great rock.
'I'm ready any time,' said he.