Produced by Mark C. Orton, Thomas Strong, Linda McKeown
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: "Caw, caw, caw, caw, caw!" yelled Blacky at the top of
his voice. FRONTISPIECE. _See page_ 132.]
BURGESS TRADE QUADDIES MARK
MOTHER WEST WIND "HOW" STORIES
BY
THORNTON W. BURGESS
_Illustrations by HARRISON CADY_
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
_By arrangement with Little, Brown, and Company_
_Copyright, 1916_,
BY THORNTON W. BURGESS.
_All rights reserved_
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
To the cause of conservation of wild life and to increase of love for
our little friends of the Green Forest and the Green Meadows through
awakened interest in them and a better understanding of their value to
us as faithful workers in carrying out the plans of wise Old Mother
Nature, this little book is dedicated.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. HOW OLD KING EAGLE WON HIS WHITE HEAD 3
II. HOW OLD MR. MINK TAUGHT HIMSELF TO SWIM 17
III. HOW OLD MR. TOAD LEARNED TO SING 31
IV. HOW OLD MR. CROW LOST HIS DOUBLE TONGUE 45
V. HOW HOWLER THE WOLF GOT HIS NAME 59
VI. HOW OLD MR. SQUIRREL BECAME THRIFTY 73
VII. HOW LIGHTFOOT THE DEER LEARNED TO JUMP 87
VIII. HOW MR. FLYING SQUIRREL ALMOST GOT WINGS 103
IX. HOW MR. WEASEL WAS MADE AN OUTCAST 117
X. HOW THE EYES OF OLD MR. OWL BECAME FIXED 131
XI. HOW IT HAPPENS JOHNNY CHUCK SLEEPS ALL WINTER 145
XII. HOW OLD MR. OTTER LEARNED TO SLIDE 161
XIII. HOW DRUMMER THE WOODPECKER CAME BY HIS RED CAP 175
XIV. HOW OLD MR. TREE TOAD FOUND OUT HOW TO CLIMB 191
XV. HOW OLD MR. HERON LEARNED PATIENCE 205
XVI. HOW TUFTY THE LYNX HAPPENS TO HAVE A STUMP OF A TAIL 219
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
"CAW, CAW, CAW, CAW, CAW!" YELLED BLACKY
AT THE TOP OF HIS VOICE _Frontispiece_
"OLD KING BEAR, WHO WAS KING NO LONGER,
WOULD GROWL A DEEP, RUMBLY-GRUMBLY GROWL" 64
"ONE DAY MR. RABBIT SURPRISED MR. WEASEL
MAKING A MEAL OF YOUNG MICE" 120
"HIS LEGS WERE SO LONG AND HIS NECK WAS SO
LONG THAT ALL HIS NEIGHBORS LAUGHED AT HIM" 216
I
HOW OLD KING EAGLE WON HIS WHITE HEAD
MOTHER WEST WIND "HOW" STORIES
I
HOW OLD KING EAGLE WON HIS WHITE HEAD
Peter Rabbit sat on the edge of the dear Old Briar-patch, staring up
into the sky with his head tipped back until it made his neck ache. Way,
way up in the sky was a black speck sailing across the snowy white face
of a cloud. It didn't seem possible that it could be alive way up there.
But it was. Peter knew that it was, and he knew who it was. It was King
Eagle. By and by it disappeared over towards the Great Mountain. Peter
rubbed the back of his neck, which ached because he had tipped his head
back so long. Then he gave a little sigh.
"I wonder what it seems like to be able to fly like that," said he out
loud, a way he sometimes has.
"Are you envious?" asked a voice so close to him that Peter jumped.
There was Sammy Jay sitting in a little tree just over his head.
"No!" snapped Peter, for it made him a wee bit cross to be so startled.
"No, I'm not envious, Sammy Jay. I'm not envious of any bird. The ground
is good enough for me. I was just wondering, that's all."
"Have you ever seen King Eagle close to?" asked Sammy.
"Once," replied Peter. "Once he came down to the Green Meadows and sat
in that lone tree over there, and I was squatting in a bunch of grass
quite near and could see him very plainly. He is big and fierce-looking,
but he looks his name, every inch a king. I've wondered a good many
times since how it happens that he has a white head."
"Because," replied Sammy, "he is just what he looks to be,--king of the
birds,--and that white head is the sign of his royalty given his
great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather by Old Mother Nature, way back in
the beginning of things."
Peter's eyes sparkled. "Tell me about it, Sammy," he begged. "Tell me
about it, and I won't quarrel with you any more."
"All right, Peter. I'll tell you the story, because it will do you good
to hear it. I supposed everybody knew it. All birds do. That is why we
all look up to King Eagle," replied Sammy.
"Way back in the beginning of things, old King Bear ruled in the Green
Forest, as you know. That is, he ruled the animals and all the little
people who lived on the ground, but he didn't rule the birds. You see
the birds were not willing to be ruled over by an animal. They wanted
one of their own kind. So they refused to have old King Bear as their
king and went to Old Mother Nature to ask her to appoint a king of the
air. Now Mr. Eagle was one of the biggest and strongest and most
respected of all the birds of the air. There were some, like Mr. Goose
and Mr. Swan, who were bigger, but they spent most of their time on the
water or the earth, and they had no great claws or hooked beak to
command respect as did Mr. Eagle. So Old Mother Nature made Mr. Eagle
king of the air, and as was quite right and proper, all the birds
hastened to pay him homage.
"So King Eagle ruled the air and none dared to cross him or to disobey
him. Unlike old King Bear, he accepted no tribute from his subjects but
hunted for himself, and instead of growing fat and lazy, as did old King
Bear, he grew stronger of wing and feared no one and nothing. Now this
was in the days when the world was young, and Old Mother Nature was very
busy trying to make the world a good place to live in, so she had very
little time to look after the birds and the animals. Thus she left
matters very much to King Eagle and old King Bear. They settled all the
quarrels between their subjects, and for a while everything went
smoothly.
"King Eagle made his home on the cliff of a mountain, so that he could
look down on all below and see what was going on. Every day he went down
to the Green Forest and sat on the tallest tree while he listened to the
complaints of the other birds and settled their disputes, and none
questioned his decisions. Now after a while, this little part of the
earth where the animals and the birds first lived became overcrowded. It
became harder and harder to get enough to eat. Quarrels became more
frequent, until King Eagle had little time for anything but
straightening out these troubles and trying to keep peace.
"Old Mother Nature had been away a long time trying to make other parts
of the world fit to live in. No one knew when she was coming back or
just where she was. King Eagle, sitting on the edge of the cliff on the
mountain, thought it all over. Old Mother Nature ought to know how
things were. He would send a messenger to try to find her. So the next
day he called all the birds together and asked who would go out into the
unknown Great World to look for Old Mother Nature and take a message to
her.
"No one offered. This one had a family to look after. That one was not
feeling well. Another had a pain in his wings. One and all they had an
excuse until Hummer, the tiniest of all the birds, was reached. He
darted into the air before King Eagle. 'I'll go,' said he.
"All the others laughed. The very idea of such a tiny fellow going out
to dare the dangers of the unknown Great World seemed to them so absurd
that they just had to laugh. But King Eagle didn't laugh. He thanked
Hummer and told him that his heart was as big as his body was small,
but that he would not send him out into the Great World, for he would go
himself. He had been but trying out his subjects, and he had found but
one who was worthy, and that one was the smallest of them all. Then King
Eagle said things that made all the other birds hang their heads for
shame and want to sneak out of sight.
"After that, he told them that no king who was worthy to be king would
ask his subjects to do what he would not do himself, and that where
there was danger to be faced or something hard to do, it was the king's
place to do it, so he himself was going out into the unknown Great World
to find Mother Nature and see what could be done to make things better
and happier for them. Then he spread his great wings and sailed away,
every inch a king. They watched him until he was a speck in the sky,
and finally he disappeared altogether.
"Day after day they watched for him to come back, but there was no sign
of him; they began to shake their heads and openly talk of choosing a
new king. Only little Mr. Hummer kept his faith and day after day flew
away in the direction old King Eagle had gone, hoping to meet him coming
back. At last a day was set to choose a new king. That morning, as soon
as it was light enough to see, little Mr. Hummer darted away, and his
heart was heavy. He would take no part in choosing a new king. He would
go until he found King Eagle or until something happened to him. Pretty
soon he saw a speck way up against a cloud, a speck no bigger than
himself. It grew bigger and bigger, and at last he knew that it was
King Eagle himself. Little Mr. Hummer turned and flew as he never had
flown before. He wanted to get back before a new king was chosen, so
that King Eagle might never know that his subjects had lost faith in
him.
"He was so out of breath when he reached the other birds that he
couldn't say a word for a few minutes. Then he told them that King Eagle
was coming. The other birds had proved that they were not brave when
they had refused to go out in search of Old Mother Nature, and now they
proved it again. Instead of waiting to give King Eagle a royal welcome,
they hurried away, one after another. They were afraid to meet him,
because in their hearts they knew that they had done a cowardly thing in
deciding to choose a new king. So when King Eagle, weary and with torn
wings and broken tail feathers, dropped down to the tall tree in the
Green Forest, there was none to give him greeting save little Mr.
Hummer.
"King Eagle said nothing about the failure of the other birds to give
him greeting but at once sent little Mr. Hummer around to tell all the
others that far away he had found Old Mother Nature preparing a new land
for them, and that when she gave the word, he would lead them to it.
Then King Eagle flew to his home on the cliff of the mountain, and not
one word did he ever say of his terrible journey, of how he had gone
hungry, had been beaten by storms, and had suffered from cold and
weariness, yet never once had turned back.
"But when Old Mother Nature came later and announced that the new land
was ready for the birds, she first called them together and told them
all that King Eagle had suffered, and how he had proved himself a royal
king. As a reward she promised that his family should be rulers over the
birds forever, and as a sign that this should be so, she reached forth
and touched his black head, and it became snowy white, and all the birds
cried 'Long live the king!'
"Then Old Mother Nature turned to tiny Mr. Hummer and touched his
throat, and behold a shining ruby was there, the reward of loyalty,
faith, and bravery.
"Then King Eagle mounted into the air and proudly led the way to the
promised land. And so the birds went forth and peopled the Great World,
and King Eagle and his children and his children's children have ruled
the air ever since and have worn the snowy crown which King Eagle of
long ago so bravely won."
II
HOW OLD MR. MINK TAUGHT HIMSELF TO SWIM
II
HOW OLD MR. MINK TAUGHT HIMSELF TO SWIM
Of all the little people who live in the Green Forest or on the Green
Meadows or around the Smiling Pool, Billy Mink has the most
accomplishments. At least, it seems that way to his friends and
neighbors. He can run very swiftly; he can climb very nimbly; his eyes
and his ears and his nose are all wonderfully keen, and--he can swim
like a fish. Yes, Sir, Billy Mink is just as much at home in the water
as out of it. So, wherever he happens to be, in the Green Forest, out on
the Green Meadows, along the Laughing Brook, or in the Smiling Pool, he
feels perfectly at home and quite able to look out for himself.
Once Billy Mink had boasted that he could do anything that any one else
who wore fur could do, but boasters almost always come to grief, and
Grandfather Frog had brought Billy to grief that time. He had invited
every one to meet at the Smiling Pool and see Billy Mink do whatever any
one else who wore fur could do, and then, when Billy had run and jumped
and climbed and swum, Grandfather Frog had called Flitter the Bat. There
was some one wearing fur who could fly, and of course Billy Mink
couldn't do that. It cured Billy of boasting,--for a while, anyway.
Now Peter Rabbit, who can do little but run and jump, used sometimes to
feel a wee bit of envy in his heart when he thought of all the things
that Billy Mink could do and do well. Somehow Peter could never make it
seem quite right that one person should be able to do so many things
when others could do only one or two things. He said as much to
Grandfather Frog one day, as they watched Billy Mink catch a fat trout.
"Chug-a-rum!" said Grandfather Frog and looked sharply at Peter.
"Chug-a-rum! People never know what they can do till they try. Once upon
a time Billy Mink's great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather couldn't swim
any more than you can, but he didn't waste any time foolishly wishing
that he could."
"What did he do?" asked Peter eagerly.
"Learned how," replied Grandfather Frog gruffly. "Made it his business
to learn how. Then he taught his children, and they taught their
children, and after a long time it came natural to the Mink family to
swim."
"Did it take old Mr. Mink very long to learn how?" asked Peter
wistfully.
"Quite a while," replied Grandfather Frog. "Quite a while. Perhaps you
would like to hear about it."
"Oh, if you please, Grandfather Frog," cried Peter. "If you please. I
should love dearly to hear about it. Perhaps then I can learn to swim."
Grandfather Frog snapped up a foolish green fly that happened his way,
and Peter heard something that sounded very much like a chuckle. He
looked at Grandfather Frog suspiciously. Was that chuckle because of the
foolish green fly, or was Grandfather Frog laughing at him? Peter wasn't
sure.
"It all happened a long time ago when the world was young, as a great
many other things happened," began Grandfather Frog. "Old Mr. Mink, the
ever-so-great-grandfather of Billy Mink, couldn't do all the things that
Billy can now. For instance, he couldn't swim. But he could do a great
many things, and he was very smart. It has always run in the Mink family
to be smart. He dressed very much as Billy does now, except that he
didn't have the waterproof coat that Billy has. And he was a great
traveler, just as Billy is. Everybody smaller than he and some who were
bigger were a little bit afraid of old Mr. Mink, for he was quite as sly
and cunning as Mr. Fox, and it was suspected that he knew a great deal
more than he ever admitted about eggs that were stolen and nests that
were broken up, and other strange things that happened in the Green
Forest and along the Laughing Brook. But he never was caught doing
anything wrong and always seemed to be minding his own business, so, all
things considered, he got along very well with his neighbors.
"Now Mr. Mink was small and spry, and his wits were as nimble as his
feet. He saw all that was going on about him, and he was wise enough to
keep his tongue still, so that it never got him into trouble as gossipy
tongues do some people I know."
Peter Rabbit fidgeted uneasily. It seemed to him that Grandfather Frog
had looked at him very hard when he said this. But Grandfather Frog just
cleared his throat and went on with his story.
"Yes, Sir, old Mr. Mink kept his eyes wide open and his ears wide open
and the wits in his little brown head always working. He noticed that
those who were fussy about what they ate and insisted on having a
special kind of food often went hungry or had to hunt long and hard to
find what they liked, so he made up his mind to learn to eat many kinds
of food. This is how it happens that he learned to like fish. His big
cousin, Mr. Otter, often caught a bigger fish than he could eat all
himself and would leave some of it on the bank. Mr. Mink would find it
and help himself.
"But having to depend on Mr. Otter to get the fish for him didn't suit
Mr. Mink at all. In the first place, he didn't have as much as he
wanted. And then again he didn't have it when he wanted it. 'If I could
learn to catch fish for myself, I would be much better off,' thought Mr.
Mink. After this he spent a great deal of time on the banks of the
Smiling Pool watching Mr. Otter swim to see just how he did it. 'If he
can swim, I can swim,' said Mr. Mink to himself, and went off up the
Laughing Brook to a quiet little pool where the water was not deep.
"At first he didn't like it at all. The water got in his ears and up his
nose and choked him. And then it was so dreadfully wet! But he would
grit his teeth and keep at it. After a while he got so that he could
paddle around a little. Gradually he lost his fear of the water. Then he
found that because he naturally moved so quickly he could sometimes
catch foolish minnows who swam in where the water was very shallow. This
was great sport, and he quite often had fish for dinner now.
"But he wasn't satisfied. No, Sir, he wasn't satisfied. Whatever Mr.
Mink did, he wanted to do well. He could run well and climb well, and
there was no better hunter in all the Green Forest. He was bound that he
would swim well. So he kept trying and trying. He learned to fill his
lungs with air and hold his breath for a long time, while he swam as
fast as ever he could with his head under water as he had seen his
cousin, Mr. Otter, swim. The more he did this, the longer he could hold
his breath. After a while he found that because he was slim and trim and
moved so fast, he could out-swim Mr. Muskrat, and this made him feel
very good indeed, for Mr. Muskrat spent nearly all his time in the water
and was accounted a very good swimmer. There was only one thing that
bothered Mr. Mink. The water was so dreadfully wet! Every time he came
out of it, he had to run his hardest to dry off and keep from getting
cold. This was very tiresome and he did wish that there was an easier
way of drying off.
"Then came the bad time, the sad time, when food was scarce, and most of
the little people in the Green Forest and on the Green Meadow went
hungry. But Mr. Mink didn't go hungry. Oh, my, no! You see, he had
learned to catch fish, and so he had plenty to eat. When Old Mother
Nature came to see how all the little people were getting along, she was
very much surprised to find that Mr. Mink had become a famous swimmer.
She watched him catch a fish. Then she watched him run about to dry off
and keep from getting cold, and her eyes twinkled.
"'He who helps himself deserves to be helped,' said Old Mother Nature.
Mr. Mink didn't know what she meant by that, but the next morning he
found out. Yes, Sir, the next morning he found out. He found that he
had a brand new coat over his old one, and the new one was waterproof.
He could swim as much as he pleased and not get the least bit wet,
because the water couldn't get through that new coat. And ever since
that long-ago day when the world was young, the Minks have had
waterproof coats and have been famous fishermen. Hello, Peter Rabbit!
What under the sun are you trying to do, swelling yourself up that way?"
"I--I was just practising holding my breath," replied Peter and looked
very, very foolish.
"Ho, ho, ho! Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Grandfather Frog. "You can't learn to
swim by holding your breath on dry land, Peter Rabbit."
III
HOW OLD MR. TOAD LEARNED TO SING
III
HOW OLD MR. TOAD LEARNED TO SING
Peter Rabbit never will forget how he laughed the first time he heard
Old Mr. Toad say that he could sing and was going to sing. Why, Peter
would as soon think of singing himself, and that is something he can no
more do than he can fly. Peter had known Old Mr. Toad ever since he
could remember. He was rather fond of him, even if he did play jokes on
him once in a while. But he always thought of Old Mr. Toad as one of the
homeliest of all his friends,--slow, awkward, and too commonplace to be
very interesting. So when, in the glad joyousness of the spring, Old
Mr. Toad had told Jimmy Skunk that he was going down to the Smiling Pool
to sing because without him the great chorus there would lack one of its
sweetest voices, Peter and Jimmy had laughed till the tears came.
A few days later Peter happened over to the Smiling Pool for a call on
Grandfather Frog. A mighty chorus of joy from unseen singers rose from
all about the Smiling Pool. Peter knew about those singers. They were
Hylas, the little cousins of Sticky-toes the Tree Toad. Peter sat very
still on the edge of the bank trying to see one of them. Suddenly he
became aware of a new note, one he never had noticed before and sweeter
than any of the others. Indeed it was one of the sweetest of all the
spring songs, as sweet as the love notes of Tommy Tit the Chickadee,
than which there is none sweeter.
It seemed to come from the shallow water just in front of Peter, and he
looked eagerly for the singer. Then his eyes opened until it seemed as
if they would pop right out of his head, and he dropped his lower jaw
foolishly. There was Old Mr. Toad with a queer bag Peter never had seen
before swelled out under his chin, and as surely as Peter was sitting on
that bank, it was Old Mr. Toad who was the sweet singer!
Old Mr. Toad paid no attention to Peter, not even when he was spoken to.
He was so absorbed in his singing that he just didn't hear. Peter sat
there a while to listen; then he called Jimmy Skunk and Unc' Billy
Possum, who were also listening to the music, and they were just as
surprised as Peter. Then he spied Jerry Muskrat at the other end of the
Smiling Pool and hurried over there. Peter was so full of the discovery
he had made that he could think of nothing else. He fairly ached to
tell.
"Jerry!" he cried. "Oh, Jerry Muskrat! Do you know that Old Mr. Toad can
sing?"
Jerry looked surprised that Peter should ask such a question. "Of course
I know it," said he. "It would be mighty funny if I didn't know it,
seeing that he is the sweetest singer in the Smiling Pool and has sung
here every spring since I can remember."
Peter looked very much chagrined. "I didn't know it until just how," he
confessed. "I didn't believe him when he told me that he could sing. I
wonder how he ever learned."
"He didn't learn any more than you learned how to jump," replied Jerry.
"It just came to him naturally. His father sang, and his grandfather,
and his great grandfather, way back to the beginning of things. I
thought everybody knew about that."
"I don't. Tell me about it. Please do, Jerry," begged Peter.
"All right, I will," replied Jerry good-naturedly. "It's something
you ought to know about, anyway. In the first place, Old Mr. Toad
belongs to a very old and honorable family, one of the very oldest.
I've heard say that it goes way back almost to the very beginning of
things when there wasn't much land. Anyway, the first Toad, the
great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather of Old Mr. Toad and own cousin to
the great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather of Grandfather Frog, was one
of the first to leave the water for the dry land.
"Old Mother Nature met him hopping along and making hard work of it
because, of course, it was so new. She looked at him sharply. 'What are
you doing here?' she demanded. 'Aren't you contented with the water
where you were born?'
"Mr. Toad bowed very low. 'Yes'm,' said he very humbly. 'I'll go right
back there if you say so. I thought there must be some things worth
finding out on the land, and that I might be of some use in the Great
World.'
"His answer pleased Old Mother Nature. She was worried. She had planted
all kinds of things on the land, and they were springing up everywhere,
but she had discovered that bugs of many kinds liked the tender green
things and were increasing so fast and were so greedy that they
threatened to strip the land of all that she had planted. She had so
many things to attend to that she hadn't time to take care of the bugs.
'If you truly want to be of some use,' said she, 'you can attend to some
of those bugs.'
"Mr. Toad went right to work, and Old Mother Nature went about some
other business. Having so many other things to look after, she quite
forgot about Mr. Toad, and it was several weeks before she came that way
again. Right in the middle of a great bare place where the bugs had
eaten everything was a beautiful green spot, and patiently hopping from
plant to plant was Mr. Toad, snapping up every bug he could see. He
didn't see Old Mother Nature and kept right on working. She watched him
a while as he hopped from plant to plant catching bugs as fast as he
could, and then she spoke.
"'Have you stayed right here ever since I last saw you?' she asked.
"Mr. Toad gave a start of surprise. 'Yes'm,' said he.
"'But I thought you wanted to see the Great World and learn things,'
said she.
"Mr. Toad looked a little embarrassed. 'So I did,' he replied, 'but I
wanted to be of some use, and the bugs have kept me so busy there was no
time to travel. Besides, I have learned a great deal right here. I--I
couldn't get around fast enough to save _all_ the plants, but I have
saved what I could.'
"Old Mother Nature was more pleased than she was willing to show, for
Mr. Toad was the first of all the little people who had tried to help
her, and he had done what he could willingly and faithfully.
"'I suppose,' said she, speaking a little gruffly, 'you expect me to
reward you.'
"Mr. Toad looked surprised and a little hurt. 'I don't want any reward,'
said he. 'I didn't do it for that. It will be reward enough to know that
I really have helped and to be allowed to continue to help.'
"At that Old Mother Nature's face lighted with one of her most beautiful
smiles. 'Mr. Toad,' said she, 'if you could have just what you want,
what would it be?'
"Mr. Toad hesitated a few minutes and then said shyly, 'A beautiful
voice.'
"It was Old Mother Nature's turn to look surprised. 'A beautiful voice!'
she exclaimed. 'Pray, why do you want a beautiful voice?'
"'So that I can express my happiness in the most beautiful way I know
of,--by singing,' replied Mr. Toad.
"'You shall have it,' declared Old Mother Nature, 'but not all the time
lest you be tempted to forget your work, which, you know, is the real
source of true happiness. In the spring of each year you shall go back
to your home in the water, and there for a time you shall sing to your
heart's content, and there shall be no sweeter voice than yours.'
"Sure enough, when the next spring came, Mr. Toad was filled with a
great longing to go home. When he got there, he found that in his throat
was a little music bag; and when he swelled it out, he had one of the
sweetest voices in the world. And so it has been ever since with the
Toad family. Old Mr. Toad is one of the sweetest singers in the Smiling
Pool, but when it is time to go back to work he never grumbles, but is
one of the most faithful workers in Mother Nature's garden," concluded
Jerry Muskrat.
Peter sighed. "I never could work," said he. "Perhaps that is why I
cannot sing."
"Very likely," replied Jerry Muskrat, quite forgetting that he cannot
sing himself although he is a great worker.
IV
HOW OLD MR. CROW LOST HIS DOUBLE TONGUE
IV
HOW OLD MR. CROW LOST HIS DOUBLE TONGUE
"Caw, caw, caw, caw!" Blacky the Crow sat in the top of a tall tree and
seemed trying to see just how much noise he could make with that harsh
voice of his. Peter Rabbit peered out from the dear Old Briar-patch and
frowned.
"If I had a voice as unpleasant as that, I'd forget I could talk. Yes,
Sir, I'd forget I had a tongue," declared Peter.
Somebody laughed, and Peter turned quickly to find Jimmy Skunk. "What
are you laughing at?" demanded Peter.
"At the idea of you forgetting that you had a tongue," replied Jimmy.
"Well, I would if I had a voice like Blacky's," persisted Peter,
although he grinned a wee bit foolishly as he looked at Jimmy Skunk, for
you know Peter is a great gossip.
"It's lucky for you that you haven't then," retorted Jimmy. "I'm afraid
that you would lose your tongue just as old Mr. Crow did."
That sounded like a story. Right away Peter sat up and took notice. "Did
old Mr. Crow really lose his tongue? How did he lose it? Why did he lose
it? When--"
Jimmy Skunk clapped a hand over each ear and pretended that he was going
to run away. Peter jumped in front of him. "No, you don't!" he cried.
"You've just got to tell me that story, Jimmy Skunk."
"What story?" asked Jimmy, as if he hadn't the least idea in the world
what Peter was talking about, though of course he knew perfectly well.
"Caw, caw, caw, caw!" shouted Blacky the Crow from the distant tree-top.
"The story of how old Mr. Crow lost his tongue. You may as well tell me
first as last, because I'll give you no peace until you do," insisted
Peter.
Jimmy grinned. "If that's the case, I guess I'll have to," said he.
"Wait until I find a comfortable place to sit down. I never could tell a
story standing up."
At last he found a place to suit him and after changing his position two
or three times to make sure that he was perfectly comfortable, he began.
"Once upon a time--"
"Never mind about that," interrupted Peter. "I don't see why all stories
have to begin 'Once upon a time.' It seems as if everything interesting
happened long ago."
"If you don't watch out, this story won't begin at all," declared Jimmy.
Peter looked properly ashamed for interrupting, and Jimmy started again.
"Once upon a time old Mr. Crow, the
great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather of Blacky, over there, possessed
the most wonderful tongue of any of the little people who ran, walked,
crawled, or flew. He could imitate any and everybody, and he did. He
could sing like Mr. Meadow Lark, or he could bark like Mr. Wolf. He
could whistle like Mr. Quail, or he could growl like old King Bear.
There wasn't anybody whose voice he couldn't imitate and do it so well
that if you had been there and heard but not seen him, you never would
have guessed that it was an imitation.
"Now the imp of mischief was in old Mr. Crow, just as it is in Blacky
to-day, and he was smart too. There wasn't anybody smarter than old Mr.
Crow. It's from him that Blacky gets his smartness. It didn't take him
long to discover that no one else had such a wonderful tongue. It was
even more wonderful than the tongue of old Mr. Mocker the Mocking Bird.
Mr. Mocker could imitate the songs of other birds, but old Mr. Crow
could imitate anybody, as I have said. He puzzled over it a good deal
himself for a while. He couldn't understand how he could make any sound
he pleased, while his neighbors could make only a few special sounds.
"Being very smart and shrewd, just as Blacky is, he finally made up his
mind that it must be in his tongue. As soon as he thought of that, he
started out to find out, and on one excuse or another he managed to get
all his neighbors to show him their tongues. Sure enough, his own tongue
was different from any of the others. It was split a little, so that it
was almost like two tongues in one.
"'That's it,' he chuckled. 'I knew it. It's this little old tongue of
mine. Nobody else has got one like it, but nobody knows that but me. I
must make good use of it. Yes, Sir, I must make good use of it.'
"Now when old Mr. Crow said that, he didn't really mean good use at all.
That is, he didn't mean what you or I or any of his neighbors would have
called good use. What he did mean was the use that would bring to
himself the greatest gain in pleasure, and being a great joker, he began
by having a lot of fun with his neighbors. When he saw Mr. Rabbit, your
grandfather a thousand times removed, coming along, he would hide, and
just as Mr. Rabbit was passing, he would snarl like Mr. Lynx. Of course
Mr. Rabbit would be scared almost to death, and away he would go,
lipperty-lipperty-lip, and old Mr. Crow would laugh so that he had to
hold his black sides. He would hide in the top of a tree near Mr.
Squirrel's home, and just when Mr. Squirrel had found a fat nut and
started to eat it, he would scream like Mr. Hawk and then laugh to see
Mr. Squirrel drop his nut and dive headfirst into the nearest hole. He
would squeak like a mouse when Mr. Fox was passing, just to see Mr. Fox
hunt and hunt for the dinner he felt sure was close at hand.
"But after a while Mr. Crow wasn't satisfied with harmless jokes. Times
were getting hard, and everybody had to work to get enough to eat. This
didn't suit Mr. Crow at all, and one day when he chanced to discover one
of his neighbors just sitting down to a good meal, a new idea came to
him. He stole as near as he could without being seen and suddenly
growled like old King Bear. Of course that meal was left in a hurry. 'It
is too bad to see all that good food go to waste,' said Mr. Crow and
promptly ate it.
"After that, instead of hunting for food himself, he just kept a sharp
eye on his neighbors, and when they had found something he wanted, he
frightened them away and helped himself. All the time he was so sly
about it that never once was he suspected. He was a great talker, was
Mr. Crow, and spent a great deal of time gossiping, and he was always
one of the first to offer sympathy to those who had lost a meal.
"Now all this time, unknown to old Mr. Crow, Old Mother Nature knew just
what was going on, for you can't fool her, and it's of no use to try.
One morning Mr. Crow discovered Mr. Coon just sitting down to a good
breakfast. He stole up behind Mr. Coon and opened his mouth to bark like
Mr. Coyote, but instead of a bark, there came forth a harsh 'Caw, caw,
caw.' It is a question which was the more surprised, Mr. Coon or Mr.
Crow. Mr. Coon didn't forget his manners. He politely invited Mr. Crow
to sit down and take breakfast with him. But Mr. Crow had lost his
appetite. Somehow his tongue felt very queer. He thanked Mr. Coon and
begged to be excused. Then he hurried over to the nearest pool of water
in which he could see his reflection and stuck out his tongue. It was no
longer split into a double tongue. Then old Mr. Crow guessed that Old
Mother Nature had found him out and punished him, but to make sure, he
flew to the most lonesome place he knew of, and there he tried to
imitate the voices of his neighbors; but try as he would, all he could
say was 'Caw, caw, caw.'
"For a long, long time after that no one ever heard Mr. Crow say a word.
His neighbors didn't know what to make of it, for you remember he had
been a great gossip. They said that he must have lost his tongue. Of
course he hadn't, but he felt that he might as well have. And ever since
then the Crow family has had the harshest of all voices."
"Caw, caw, caw!" shouted Blacky from the top of the tree where he was
sitting.
"I wonder," said Peter Rabbit thoughtfully, "if he could imitate other
people if his tongue should be split."
"I've heard say that he could," replied Jimmy Skunk, "but I don't know.
One thing is sure, and that is that he is just as smart and sly as his
great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather was, and I guess it is just as
well that his tongue is just as it is."
V
HOW HOWLER THE WOLF GOT HIS NAME
V
HOW HOWLER THE WOLF GOT HIS NAME
Peter Rabbit never had seen Howler the Wolf, but he had heard his voice
in the distance, and the mere sound had given him cold shivers. It just
went all through him. It was very different from the voice of Old Man
Coyote. The latter is bad enough, sounding as it does like many voices,
but there is not in it that terrible fierceness which the voice of his
big cousin contains. Peter had no desire to hear it any nearer. The
first time he met his cousin, Jumper the Hare, he asked him about
Howler, for Jumper had come down to the Green Forest from the Great
Woods where Howler lives and is feared.
"Did you hear him?" exclaimed Jumper. "I hope he won't take it into his
head to come down here. I don't believe he will, because it is too near
the homes of men. If the sound of his voice way off there gave you cold
shivers, I'm afraid you'd shake all to pieces if you heard him close by.
He's just as fierce as his voice sounds. There is one thing about him
that I like, though, and that is that he gives fair warning when he is
hunting. He doesn't come sneaking about without a sound, like Tufty the
Lynx. He hunts like Bowser the Hound and lets you know that he is out
hunting. Did you ever hear how he got his name?"
"No. How did he get his name?" asked Peter eagerly.
"Well, of course it's a family name now and is handed down and has been
for years and years, ever since the first Wolf began hunting way back
when the world was young," explained Jumper. "For a long time the first
Wolf had no name. Most of the other animals and birds had names, but
nothing seemed to just fit the big gray Wolf. He looked a great deal
like his cousin, Mr. Dog, and still more like his other cousin, Mr.
Coyote. But he was stronger than either, could run farther and faster
than either, and had quite as wonderful a nose as either.
"With Mr. Wolf, as with all the other animals, life was an easy matter
at first. There was plenty to eat, and everybody was on good terms with
everybody else. But there came a time, as you know, when food became
scarce. It was then that the big learned to hunt the small, and fear was
born into the world. Mr. Wolf was swift of leg and keen of nose. His
teeth were long and sharp, and he was so strong that there were few he
feared to fight with. In fact, he didn't know fear at all, for he simply
kept out of the way of those who were too big and strong for him to
fight.
"Most people like to do the things they know they can do well. Mr. Wolf
early learned the joy of hunting. I can't understand it myself. Can
you?"
Peter shook his head. You see neither Jumper nor Peter ever have hunted
any one in all their lives. It is always they who are hunted.
"Perhaps it was because he was so strong of wind and leg that he enjoyed
running, and because he was so keen of nose that he enjoyed following a
trail. Anyway, he scorned to spend his time sneaking about as did his
cousin, Mr. Coyote, but chose to follow the swiftest runners and to
match his nose and speed and skill against their speed and wits. He
didn't bother to hunt little people like us when there were big people
like Mr. Deer. The longer and harder the hunt, the more Mr. Wolf seemed
to enjoy it.
"At first he hunted silently, running swiftly with his nose to the
ground. But this gave the ones he hunted very little chance; he was upon
them before they even suspected that he was on their trail. It always
made Mr. Wolf feel mean. He never could hold his head and his tail up
after that kind of a hunt. He felt so like a sneak that he just had to
put his tail between his legs for very shame. There was nothing to be
proud about in such a hunt.
"One night he sat thinking about it. Gentle Mistress Moon looked down at
him through the tree-tops, and something inside him urged him to tell
her his troubles. He pointed his sharp nose up at her, opened his mouth
and, because she was so far away, did his best to make her hear. That
was the very first Wolf howl ever heard. There was something very lonely
and shivery and terrible in the sound, and all who heard it shook with
fear. Mr. Wolf didn't know this, but he did know that he felt better for
howling. So every night he pointed his nose up at Mistress Moon and
howled.
"It happened that once as he did this, a Deer jumped at the first sound
and rushed away in great fright. This gave Mr. Wolf an idea. The next
day when he went hunting he threw up his head and howled at the very
first smell of fresh tracks. That day he had the longest hunt he ever
had known, for the Deer had had fair warning. Mr. Wolf didn't get the
Deer, because the latter swam across a lake and so got away, but he
returned home in high spirits in spite of an empty stomach. You see, he
felt that it had been a fair hunt. After that he always gave fair
warning. As he ran, he howled for very joy. No longer did he carry his
bushy tail between his legs, for no longer did he feel like a coward and
a sneak. Instead, he carried it proudly. Of all the animals who hunted,
he was the only one who gave fair warning, and he felt that he had a
right to be proud. All the others hunted by stealth. He alone hunted
openly and boldly.
[Illustration: "Old King Bear, who was king no longer, would growl a
deep, rumbly-grumbly growl." _Page_ 66.]
"Now this earned for him first the dislike and then the hatred of the
other hunters. You see, when he was hunting, he spoiled the hunting of
those who stole soft-footed through the Green Forest and caught their
victims by surprise. The little people heard his voice and either hid
away or were on guard, so that it was hard work for the silent hunters
to surprise them. At the sound of his hunting cry, old King Bear, who
was king no longer, would growl a deep, rumbly-grumbly growl, though he
didn't mind so much as some, because he did very little hunting. He
wouldn't have done any if food had not been so scarce, because he would
have been entirely satisfied with berries and roots, if he could have
found enough. Mr. Lynx and Mr. Panther would snarl angrily. Mr. Coyote
and Mr. Fox would show their teeth and mutter about what they would do
to Mr. Wolf if only they were big enough and strong enough and brave
enough.
"Of course, it wasn't long before Mr. Wolf discovered that he had no
friends. The little people feared him, and the big people hated him
because he spoiled their hunting. But he didn't mind. In fact, he
looked down on Mr. Lynx and Mr. Panther and Mr. Coyote and Mr. Fox, and
when he met them, he lifted his tail a little more proudly than ever.
Sometimes he would howl out of pure mischief just to spoil the hunting
of the others. So, little by little, he began to be spoken of as Howler
the Wolf, and after a while everybody called him Howler.
"Of course, Howler taught his children how to hunt and that the only
honorable and fair way was to give those they hunted fair warning. So it
grew to be a fixed habit of the Wolf family to give fair warning that
they were abroad and then trust to their wind and wits and speed and
noses to catch those they were after. The result was that they grew
strong, able to travel long distances, keen of nose, and sharp of wit.
Because the big people hated them, and the little people feared them,
they lived by themselves and so formed the habit of hunting together for
company.
"It has been so ever since, and the name Howler has been handed down to
this day. No sound in all the Great Woods carries with it more fear than
does the voice of Howler the Wolf, and no one hunts so openly, boldly,
and honorably. Be thankful, Peter, that Howler never comes down to the
Green Forest, but stays far from the homes of men."
"I am," replied Peter. "Just the same, I think he deserves a better name
for the fair way in which he hunts, though his name certainly does fit
him. I would a lot rather be caught by some one who had given me fair
warning than by some one who came sneaking after me and gave me no
warning. But I don't want to be caught at all, so I think I'll hurry
back to the dear Old Briar-patch." And Peter did.
VI
HOW OLD MR. SQUIRREL BECAME THRIFTY
VI
HOW OLD MR. SQUIRREL BECAME THRIFTY
Grandfather Frog sat on his big green lily-pad in the Smiling Pool and
shook his head reprovingly at Peter Rabbit. Peter is such a
happy-go-lucky little fellow that he never thinks of anything but the
good time he can have in the present. He never looks ahead to the
future. So of course Peter seldom worries. If the sun shines to-day,
Peter takes it for granted that it will shine to-morrow; so he hops and
skips and has a good time and just trusts to luck.
Now Grandfather Frog is very old and very wise, and he doesn't believe
in luck. No, Sir, Grandfather Frog doesn't believe in luck.
"Chug-a-rum!" says Grandfather Frog, "Luck never just _happens_. What
people call bad luck is just the result of their own foolishness or
carelessness or both, and what people call good luck is just the result
of their own wisdom and carefulness and common sense."
Peter Rabbit had been making fun of Happy Jack Squirrel because Happy
Jack said that he had too much to do to stop and play that morning. Here
it was summer, and winter was a long way off. What was summer for if not
to play in and have a good time? Yet Happy Jack was already thinking of
winter and was hunting for a new storehouse so as to have it ready when
the time to fill it with nuts should come. It was much better to play
and take sun-naps among the buttercups and daisies and just have a good
time all day long.
"Chug-a-rum!" said Grandfather Frog, "Did you ever hear how old Mr.
Squirrel learned thrift?"
"No," cried Peter Rabbit, stretching himself out in the soft grass on
the edge of the Smiling Pool. "Do tell us about it. Please do,
Grandfather Frog!"
You know Peter dearly loves a story.
All the other little meadow and forest people who were about the Smiling
Pool joined Peter Rabbit in begging Grandfather Frog for the story, and
after they had teased for it a long time (Grandfather Frog dearly loves
to be teased), he cleared his throat and began.
"Once upon a time when the world was young, in the days when old King
Bear ruled in the Green Forest, everybody had to take King Bear
presents of things to eat. That was because he was king. You know kings
never have to work like other people to get enough to eat; everybody
brings them a little of their best, and so kings have the best in the
land without the trouble of working for it. It was just this way with
old King Bear. That was before he grew so fat and lazy and selfish that
Old Mother Nature declared that he should be king no longer.
"Now in those days lived old Mr. Squirrel, the grandfather a thousand
times removed of Happy Jack Squirrel whom you all know. Of course, he
wasn't old then. He was young and frisky, just like Happy Jack, and he
was a great favorite with old King Bear. He was a saucy fellow, was Mr.
Squirrel, and he used to spend most of his time playing tricks on the
other meadow and forest people. He even dared to play jokes on old King
Bear. Sometimes old King Bear would lose his temper, and then Mr.
Squirrel would whisk up in the top of a tall tree and keep out of sight
until old King Bear had recovered his good nature.
"Those were happy days, very happy days indeed, and old King Bear was a
very wise ruler. There was plenty of everything to eat, and so nobody
missed the little they brought to old King Bear. Having so much brought
to him, he grew very particular. Yes, Sir, old King Bear grew very
particular indeed. Some began to whisper behind his back that he was
fussy. He would pick out the very best of everything for himself and
give the rest to his family and special friends or else just let it go
to waste.
"Now old King Bear was very fond of lively little Mr. Squirrel, and
often he would give Mr. Squirrel some of the good things for which he
had no room in his own stomach. Mr. Squirrel was smart. He soon found
out that the more he amused old King Bear, the more of King Bear's good
things he had. It was a lot easier to get his living this way than to
hunt for his food as he always had in the past. Besides, it was a lot
more fun. So little Mr. Squirrel studied how to please old King Bear,
and he grew fat on the good things which other people had earned.
"One day old King Bear gave little Mr. Squirrel six big, fat nuts. You
see, old King Bear didn't care for nuts himself, not the kind with the
hard shells, anyway, so he really wasn't as generous as he seemed, which
is the way with a great many people. It is easy to give what you don't
want yourself. Little Mr. Squirrel bowed very low and thanked old King
Bear in his best manner. He really didn't want those nuts, for his
stomach was full at the time, but it wouldn't do to refuse a gift from
the king. So he took the nuts and pretended to be delighted with them.
"'What shall I do with them?' said little Mr. Squirrel as soon as he was
alone. 'It won't do for me to leave them where old King Bear will find
them, for it might make him very angry.' At last he remembered a certain
hollow tree. 'The very place!' cried little Mr. Squirrel. 'I'll drop
them in there, and no one will be any the wiser.'
"No sooner thought of than it was done, and little Mr. Squirrel frisked
away in his usual happy-go-lucky fashion and forgot all about the nuts
in the hollow tree. It wasn't very long after this that Old Mother
Nature began to hear complaints of old King Bear and his rule in the
Green Forest. He had grown fat and lazy, and all his relatives had grown
fat and lazy because, you see, none of them had to work for the things
they ate. The little forest and meadow people were growing tired of
feeding the Bear family. It was just at the beginning of winter when Old
Mother Nature came to see for herself what the trouble was. It didn't
take her long to find out. No, Sir, it didn't take her long. You can't
fool Old Mother Nature, and it's of no use to try. She took one good
look at old King Bear nodding in the cave where he used to sleep. He was
so fat he looked as if he would burst his skin.
"Old Mother Nature frowned. 'You are such a lazy fellow that you shall
be king no longer. Instead, you shall sleep all winter and grow thin and
thinner till you awake in the spring, and then you will have to hunt
for your own food, for never again shall you live on the gifts of
others,' said she.