that is things to eat, to old King Bear rejoiced that they need do so no
longer and went about their business. All of old King Bear's family,
including his cousin Mr. Coon, had been put to sleep just like old King
Bear himself. Yes, Sir, they were all asleep, fast asleep.
"Little Mr. Squirrel felt lonesome. He grew more lonesome every day.
None of the other little people would have anything to do with him
because they remembered how he had lived without working when he was the
favorite of King Bear. The weather was cold, and it was hard work to
find anything to eat. Mr. Squirrel was hungry all the time. He couldn't
think of anything but his stomach and how empty it was. He grew thin and
thinner.
"One cold day when the snow covered the earth, little Mr. Squirrel went
without breakfast. Then he went without dinner. You see, he couldn't
find so much as a pine-seed to eat. Late in the afternoon he crept into
a hollow tree to get away from the cold, bitter wind. He was very tired
and very cold and very, very hungry. Tears filled his eyes and ran over
and dripped from his nose. He curled up on the leaves at the bottom of
the hollow to try to go to sleep and forget. Under him was something
hard. He twisted and turned, but he couldn't get in a comfortable
position. Finally he looked to see what the trouble was caused by. What
do you think he found? Six big, fat nuts! Yes, Sir, six big, fat nuts!
Little Mr. Squirrel was so glad that he cried for very joy.
"When he had eaten two, he felt better and decided to keep the others
for the next day. Then he began to wonder how those nuts happened to be
in that hollow tree. He thought and thought, and at last he remembered
how he had hidden six nuts in this very hollow a long time before, when
he had had more than he knew what to do with. These were the very nuts,
the present of old King Bear.
"Right then as he thought about it, little Mr. Squirrel had a bright
idea. He made up his mind that thereafter he would stop his
happy-go-lucky idleness, and the first time that ever he found plenty of
food, he would fill that hollow tree just as full as he could pack it,
and then if there should come a time when food was scarce, he would
have plenty. And that is just what he did do. The next fall when nuts
were plentiful, he worked from morning till night storing them away in
the hollow tree, and all that winter he was happy and fat, for he had
plenty to eat. He never had to beg of any one. He had learned to save.
"And ever since then the Squirrels have been among the wisest of all the
little forest people and always the busiest.
"The Squirrel family long since learned
That things are best when duly earned;
That play and fun are found in work
By him who does not try to shirk.
"And that's all," finished Grandfather Frog.
"Thank you! Thank you, Grandfather Frog!" cried Peter Rabbit.
VII
HOW LIGHTFOOT THE DEER LEARNED TO JUMP
VII
HOW LIGHTFOOT THE DEER LEARNED TO JUMP
It isn't often that Peter Rabbit is filled with envy. As a rule, Peter
is very free from anything like envy. Usually he is quite content with
the gifts bestowed upon him by Old Mother Nature, and if others have
more than he has, he is glad for them and wastes no time fretting
because he has not been so fortunate. But once in a great while Peter
becomes really and truly envious. It was that way the first time he saw
Lightfoot the Deer leap over a fallen tree, and ever after, when he saw
Lightfoot, a little of that same feeling stirred in his heart. You see,
Peter always had been very proud of his own powers of jumping. To be
sure Jumper the Hare could jump higher and farther than he could, but
Jumper is his own cousin, so it was all in the family, so to speak, and
Peter didn't mind. But to see Lightfoot the Deer go sailing over the
tops of the bushes and over the fallen trees as if he had springs in his
legs was quite another matter.
"I wish I could jump like that," said Peter right out loud one day, as
he stood with his hands on his hips watching Lightfoot leap over a pile
of brush.
"Why don't you learn to?" asked Jimmy Skunk with a mischievous twinkle
in the eye which Peter couldn't see. "Lightfoot couldn't always jump
like that; he had to learn. Why don't you find out how? Probably
Grandfather Frog knows all about it. He knows about almost everything.
If I were you, I'd ask him."
"I--I--I don't just like to," replied Peter. "I've asked him so many
questions that I am afraid he'll think me a nuisance. I tell you what,
Jimmy, you ask him!" Peter's eyes brightened as he said this.
Jimmy chuckled. "No, you don't!" said he. "If there is anything you want
to know from Grandfather Frog, ask him yourself. I don't want to know
how Lightfoot learned to jump. He may jump over the moon, for all I
care. Have you seen any fat beetles this morning, Peter?"
"No," replied Peter shortly. "I'm not interested in beetles. There may
never be any fat beetles, for all I care."
Jimmy laughed. It was a good-natured, chuckling kind of a laugh. "Don't
get huffy, Peter," said he. "Here's hoping that you learn how to jump
like Lightfoot the Deer, and that I get a stomachful of fat beetles."
With that Jimmy Skunk slowly ambled along down the Crooked Little Path.
Peter watched him out of sight, sighed, started for the dear Old
Briar-patch, stopped, sighed again, and then headed straight for the
Smiling Pool. Grandfather Frog was there on his big green lily-pad, and
Peter wasted no time.
"How did Lightfoot the Deer learn to jump so splendidly, Grandfather
Frog?" he blurted out almost before he had stopped running.
Grandfather Frog blinked his great, goggly eyes. "Chug-a-rum!" said he.
"If you'll jump across the Laughing Brook over there where it comes into
the Smiling Pool, I'll tell you."
Peter looked at the Laughing Brook in dismay. It was quite wide at that
point. "I--I can't," he stammered.
"Then I can't tell you how Lightfoot learned to jump," replied
Grandfather Frog, quite as if the matter were settled.
"I--I'll try!" Peter hastened to blurt out.
"All right. While you are trying, I'll see if I can remember the story,"
replied Grandfather Frog.
Peter went back a little so as to get a good start. Then he ran as hard
as he knew how, and when he reached the bank of the Laughing Brook, he
jumped with all his might. It was a good jump--a splendid jump--but it
wasn't quite enough of a jump, and Peter landed with a great splash in
the water! Grandfather Frog opened his great mouth as wide as he could,
which is very wide indeed, and laughed until the tears rolled down from
his great, goggly eyes. Jerry Muskrat and Billy Mink rolled over and
over on the bank, laughing until their sides ached. Even Spotty the
Turtle smiled, which is very unusual for Spotty.
Now Peter does not like the water, and though he can swim, he doesn't
feel at all at home in it. He paddled for the shore as fast as he could,
and in his heart was something very like anger. No one likes to be
laughed at. Peter intended to start for home the very minute he reached
the shore. But just before his feet touched bottom, he heard the great,
deep voice of Grandfather Frog.
"That is just the way Lightfoot the Deer learned to jump--trying to do
what he couldn't do and keeping at it until he could. It all happened a
great while ago when the world was young." Grandfather Frog was talking
quite as if nothing had happened, and he had never thought of laughing.
Peter was so put out that he wanted to keep right on, but he just
couldn't miss that story. His curiosity wouldn't let him. So he shook
himself and then lay down in the sunniest spot he could find within
hearing.
"Lightfoot's great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather was named Lightfoot
too, and was not a whit less handsome than Lightfoot is now," continued
Grandfather Frog in his best story-telling voice. "He had just such slim
legs as Lightfoot has now and just such wonderful, branching horns. When
he had the latter, he was not much afraid of anybody. Those enemies
swift enough of foot to catch him he could successfully fight with his
horns, and those too big and strong for him to fight were not swift
enough to catch him. But there was a season in every year when he had no
horns, as is the case with Lightfoot. You know, or ought to know, that
every spring Lightfoot loses his horns and through the summer a new pair
grows. It was so with Mr. Deer of that long-ago time, and when he lost
those great horns, he felt very helpless and timid.
"Now old Mr. Deer loved the open meadows and spent most of his time
there. When he had to run, he wanted nothing in the way of his slim
legs. And how he could run! My, my, my, how he could run! But there were
others who could run swiftly in those days too,--Mr. Wolf and Mr. Dog.
Mr. Deer always had a feeling that some day one or the other would catch
him. When he had his horns, this thought didn't worry him much, but when
he had lost his horns, it worried him a great deal. He felt perfectly
helpless then. 'The thing for me to do is to keep out of sight,' said he
to himself, and so instead of going out on the meadows and in the open
places, he hid among the bushes and in the brush on the edge of the
Green Forest and behind the fallen trees in the Green Forest.
"But one thing troubled old Mr. Deer, who wasn't old then, you know.
Yes, Sir, one thing troubled him a great deal. He couldn't run fast at
all among the bushes and the fallen trees and the old logs. This was a
new worry, and it troubled him almost as much as the old worry. He felt
that he was in a dreadful fix. You see, hard times had come, and the big
and strong were preying on the weak and small in order to live.
"'If I stay out on the meadows, I cannot fight if I am caught; and if I
stay here, I cannot run fast if I am found by my enemies. Oh, dear! Oh,
dear! What shall I do?' cried Mr. Deer, as he lay hidden among the
branches of a fallen hemlock-tree.
"Just at that very minute along came Mr. Hare, the
great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather of your cousin Jumper. A big log
was in his path, and he jumped over it as lightly as a feather. Mr. Deer
watched him and sighed. If only he could jump like that in proportion to
his size, he would just jump over the bushes and the fallen logs and the
fallen trees instead of trying to run around them or squeeze between
them. Right then he had an idea. Why shouldn't he learn to jump? He
could try, anyway. So when he was sure that no one was around to see
him, he practised jumping over little low bushes. At first he couldn't
do much, but he kept trying and trying, and little by little he jumped
higher. It was hard work, and he scraped his slim legs many times when
he tried to jump over old logs and stumps.
"Now all this time some one had been watching him, though he didn't know
it. It was Old Mother Nature. One day she stopped him as he was trotting
along a path. 'What is this you are doing when you think no one is
watching?' she demanded, looking very cross. 'Haven't I given you beauty
and speed? And yet you are not satisfied!' Mr. Deer hung his head. Then
suddenly he threw it up proudly and told Old Mother Nature that he had
not complained, but that through his own efforts he was just trying to
add to the blessings which he did have, and he explained why he wanted
to learn to jump. Old Mother Nature heard him through. 'Let me see you
jump over that bush,' she snapped crossly, pointing to a bush almost as
high as Mr. Deer himself.
"'Oh, I can't jump nearly as high as that!' he cried. Then tossing his
head proudly, he added, 'But I'll try.' So just as Peter Rabbit tried to
jump the Laughing Brook when he felt sure that he couldn't, Mr. Deer
tried to jump the bush. Just imagine how surprised he was when he sailed
over it without even touching the top of it with his hoofs! Old Mother
Nature had given him the gift of jumping as a reward for his
perseverance and because she saw that he really had need of it.
"So ever since that long-ago day, the Deer have lived where the brush is
thickest and the Green Forest most tangled, because they are such great
jumpers that they can travel faster there than their enemies, and they
are no longer so swift of foot in the open meadows. Now, Peter, let's
see you jump over the Laughing Brook."
What do you think Peter did? Why, he tried again, and laughed just as
hard as the others when once more he landed in the water with a great
splash.
VIII
HOW MR. FLYING SQUIRREL ALMOST GOT WINGS
VIII
HOW MR. FLYING SQUIRREL ALMOST GOT WINGS
Jimmy Skunk and Peter Rabbit were having a dispute. It was a
good-natured dispute, but both Jimmy and Peter are very decided in their
opinions, and neither would give in to the other. Finally they decided
that as neither could convince the other, they should leave it for
Grandfather Frog to decide which was right. So they straightway started
for the Smiling Pool, where on his big green lily-pad Grandfather Frog
was enjoying the twilight and leading the great Frog chorus. Both agreed
that they would accept Grandfather Frog's decision. You see, each was
sure that he was right.
When they reached the Smiling Pool, they found Grandfather Frog looking
very comfortable and old and wise. "Good evening, Grandfather Frog. I
hope you are feeling just as fine as you look," said Jimmy Skunk, who
never forgets to be polite.
"Chug-a-rum! I'm feeling very well, thank you," replied Grandfather
Frog. "What brings you to the Smiling Pool this fine evening?" He looked
very hard at Peter Rabbit, for he suspected that Peter had come for a
story.
"To get the wisest person of whom we know to decide a matter on which
Peter and I cannot agree; and who is there so wise as Grandfather Frog?"
replied Jimmy.
Grandfather Frog looked immensely pleased. It always pleases him to be
considered wise. "Chug-a-rum!" said he gruffly. "You have a very smooth
tongue, Jimmy Skunk. But what is this matter on which you cannot agree?"
"How many animals can fly?" returned Jimmy, by way of answer.
"One," replied Grandfather Frog. "I thought everybody knew that. Flitter
the Bat is the only animal who can fly."
"You forget Timmy, the Flying Squirrel!" cried Peter excitedly. "That
makes two."
Grandfather Frog shook his head. "Peter, Peter, whatever is the matter
with those eyes of yours?" he exclaimed. "They certainly are big enough.
I wonder if you ever will learn to use them. Half-seeing is sometimes
worse than not seeing at all. Timmy cannot fly any more than I can."
"What did I tell you?" cried Jimmy Skunk triumphantly.
"But I've seen him fly lots of times!" persisted Peter. "I guess that
any one who has envied him as often as I have ought to know."
"Hump!" grunted Grandfather Frog. "I guess that's the trouble. There was
so much envy that it got into your eyes, and you couldn't see straight.
Envy is a bad thing."
Jimmy Skunk chuckled.
"Did you ever see him away from trees?" continued Grandfather Frog.
"No," confessed Peter.
"Did you ever see him cut circles in the air like Flitter the Bat?"
"No-o," replied Peter slowly.
"Of course not," retorted Grandfather Frog. "The reason is because he
doesn't fly. He hasn't any wings. What he does do is to coast on the
air. He's the greatest jumper and coaster in the Green Forest."
"Coast on the air!" exclaimed Peter. "I never heard of such a thing."
"There are many things you never have heard of," replied Grandfather
Frog. "Sit down, Peter, and stop fidgeting, and I'll tell you a story."
The very word story was enough to make Peter forget everything else, and
he promptly sat down with his big eyes fixed on Grandfather Frog.
"It happened," began Grandfather Frog, "that way back in the beginning
of things, there lived a very timid member of the Squirrel family, own
cousin to Mr. Red Squirrel and Mr. Gray Squirrel, but not at all like
them, for he was very gentle and very shy. Perhaps this was partly
because he was very small and was not big enough or strong enough to
fight his way as the others did. In fact, this little Mr. Squirrel was
so timid that he preferred to stay out of sight during the day, when so
many were abroad. He felt safer in the dusk of evening, and so he used
to wait until jolly, round, red Mr. Sun had gone to bed behind the
Purple Hills before he ventured out to hunt for his food. Then his
quarrelsome cousins had gone to bed, and there was no one to drive him
away when he found a feast of good things.
"But even at night there was plenty of danger. There was Mr. Owl to be
watched out for, and other night prowlers. In fact, little Mr. Squirrel
didn't feel safe on the ground a minute, and so he kept to the trees as
much as possible. Of course, when the branches of one tree reached to
the branches of another tree, it was an easy matter to travel through
the tree-tops, but every once in a while there would be open places to
cross, and many a fright did timid little Mr. Squirrel have as he
scampered across these open places. He used to sit and watch old Mr. Bat
flying about and wish that he had wings. Then he thought how foolish it
was to wish for something he hadn't got and couldn't have.
"'The thing to do,' said little Mr. Squirrel to himself, 'is to make the
most of what I have got. Now I am a pretty good jumper, but if I keep
jumping, perhaps I can learn to jump better than I do now.'
"So every night Mr. Squirrel used to go off by himself, where he was
sure no one would see him, and practise jumping. He would climb an old
stump and then jump as far as he could. Then he would do it all over
again ever so many times, and after a little he found that he went
farther, quite a little farther, than when he began. Then one night he
made a discovery. He found that by spreading his arms and legs out just
as far as possible and making himself as flat as he could, he could go
almost twice as far as he had been able to go before, and he landed a
great deal easier. It was like sliding down on the air. It was great
fun, and pretty soon he was spending all his spare time doing it.
"One moonlight night, Old Mother Nature happened along and sat down on a
log to watch him. Little Mr. Squirrel didn't see her, and when at last
she asked him what he was doing, he was so surprised and confused that
he could hardly find his tongue. At last he told her that he was trying
to learn to jump better that he might better take care of himself. The
idea pleased Old Mother Nature. You know she is always pleased when she
finds people trying to help themselves.
"'That's a splendid idea,' said she. 'I'll help you. I'll make you the
greatest jumper in the Green Forest.'
"Then she gave to little Mr. Squirrel something almost but not quite
like wings. Between his fore legs and hind legs on each side she
stretched a piece of skin that folded right down against his body when
he was walking or running so as to hardly show and wasn't in the way at
all.
"'Now,' said she, 'climb that tall tree over yonder clear to the top and
then jump with all your might for that tree over there across that open
place.'
"It was ten times as far as little Mr. Squirrel ever had jumped before,
and the tree was so tall that he felt sure that he would break his neck
when he struck the ground. He was afraid, very much afraid. But Old
Mother Nature had told him to do it. He knew that he ought to trust her.
So he climbed the tall tree. It was a frightful distance down to the
ground, and that other tree was so far away that it was foolish to even
think of reaching it.
"'Jump!' commanded Old Mother Nature.
"Little Mr. Squirrel gulped very hard, trying to swallow his fear. Then
he jumped with all his might, and just as he had taught himself to do,
spread himself out as flat as he could. Just imagine how surprised he
was and how tickled when he just coasted down on the air clear across
the open place and landed as lightly as a feather on the foot of that
distant tree! You see, the skin between his legs when he spread them out
had kept him from falling straight down. Of course if he hadn't jumped
with all his might, as Old Mother Nature had told him to, even though he
thought it wouldn't be of any use, he wouldn't have reached that other
tree.
"He was so delighted that he wanted to do it right over again, but he
didn't forget his manners. He first thanked Old Mother Nature.
"She smiled. 'See that you keep out of danger, for that is why I have
made you the greatest jumper in the Green Forest,' said she.
"Little Mr. Squirrel did. People who, like Peter, did not use their
eyes, thought that he could fly, and he was called the Flying Squirrel.
He was the great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather of Timmy whom you both
know."
"And Timmy doesn't really fly at all, does he?" asked Jimmy Skunk.
"Certainly not. He jumps and slides on the air," replied Grandfather
Frog.
"What did I tell you?" cried Jimmy triumphantly to Peter.
"Well, anyway, it's next thing to flying. I wish I could do it," replied
Peter.
IX
HOW MR. WEASEL WAS MADE AN OUTCAST
IX
HOW MR. WEASEL WAS MADE AN OUTCAST
Chatterer the Red Squirrel peered down from the edge of an old nest
built long ago in a big hemlock-tree in the Green Forest, and if you
could have looked into Chatterer's eyes, you would have seen there a
great fear. He looked this way; he looked that way. Little by little,
the fear left him, and when at last he saw Peter Rabbit coming his way,
he gave a little sigh of relief and ran down the tree. Peter saw him and
headed straight toward him to pass the time of day.
"Peter," whispered Chatterer, as soon as Peter was near enough to hear,
"have you seen Shadow the Weasel?"
It was Peter's turn to look frightened, and he hastily glanced this way
and that way. "No," he replied. "Is he anywhere about here?"
"I saw him pass about five minutes ago, but he seemed to be in a hurry,
and I guess he has gone now," returned Chatterer, still whispering.
"I hope so! My goodness, I hope so!" exclaimed Peter, still looking this
way and that way uneasily.
"I hate him!" declared Chatterer fiercely.
"So do I," replied Peter. "I guess everybody does. It must be dreadful
to be hated by everybody. I don't believe he has got a single friend in
the wide, wide world, not even among his own relatives. I wonder why it
is he never tries to make any friends."
"Here comes Jimmy Skunk. Let's ask him. He ought to know, for he is
Shadow's cousin," said Chatterer.
Jimmy came ambling up in his usual lazy way, for you know he never
hurries. It seemed to Chatterer and Peter that he was slower than usual.
But he got there at last.
"Why is it, Jimmy Skunk, that your cousin, Shadow the Weasel, never
tries to make any friends?" cried Chatterer, as soon as Jimmy was near
enough.
"I've never asked him, but I suppose it's because he doesn't want them,"
replied Jimmy.
"But why?" asked Peter.
"I guess it's because he is an outcast," replied Jimmy.
"What is an outcast," demanded Peter.
"Why, somebody with whom nobody else will have anything to do, stupid,"
replied Jimmy. "I thought everybody knew that."
"But how did it happen that he became an outcast in the first place?"
persisted Peter.
"He's always been an outcast, ever since he was born, and I suppose he
is used to it," declared Jimmy. "His father was an outcast, and his
grandfather, and his great-grandfathers way back to the days when the
world was young."
"Tell us about it. Do tell us about it!" begged Peter.
Jimmy smiled good-naturedly. "Well, seeing that I haven't anything else
to do just now, I will. Perhaps you fellows may learn something from the
story," said he. Then he settled himself comfortably with his back to an
old stump and began.
[Illustration: "One day Mr. Rabbit surprised Mr. Weasel making a meal of
young mice." _Page_ 124.]
"When old King Bear ruled in the forest long, long ago, and the
great-great-ever-so-great-grandfathers of all of us and of everybody
else lived in peace and happiness with each other, slim, trim, spry Mr.
Weasel lived with the rest. He was small, just as Shadow is now, and he
looked just the same as Shadow does now. He was on the best of terms
with all his neighbors, and no one had a word to say against him. In
fact, he was rather liked and had quite as many friends as anybody. But
all the time he had a mean disposition. He hid it from his neighbors,
but he had it just the same. Now mean dispositions are easily hidden
when everything is pleasant and there are no worries, and that is the
way it was then. No one suspected any one else of meanness, for with
plenty to eat and nothing to worry about, there was no cause for
meanness.