himself comfortably so as to face Johnny Chuck and Peter and at the same
time watch Little Joe out of the corner of one big, goggly eye.
"Chug-a-rum!" said he, as once more Little Joe splashed into the Smiling
Pool. "Did you ever hear about Little Joe's family secret?" he asked in
his deep gruff voice.
"No," cried Peter Rabbit. "Do tell us about it! I just love secrets."
There was a great deal of eagerness in Peter's voice, and it made
Grandfather Frog smile.
"Is that the reason you never can keep them?" he asked.
Peter looked a wee bit foolish, but he kept still and waited patiently.
After what seemed a long, long time, Grandfather Frog cleared his throat
two or three times, and this is the story he told Johnny Chuck and Peter
Rabbit:
"Once upon a time when the world was young, the
great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather of Little Joe Otter got into a
peck of trouble. Yes, Sir, he certainly did get into a peck of trouble.
You see, it was winter, and everything was covered with snow, so that
food was hard to get. Most of the little forest and meadow people found
little to eat, and it took a great deal of hunting to find that little.
Only those who, like old Mr. Squirrel, had been wise enough to lay up a
store of food when there was plenty, and two or three others like Mr.
Mink and Mr. Otter, who could go fishing in the spring-holes which had
not frozen over, had full stomachs.
"Now an empty stomach almost always makes a short temper. It is hard,
very hard indeed to be hungry and good-natured at the same time. So as
most of the people of the Green Forest were hungry all the time, they
were also short-tempered all the time. Mr. Otter knew this. When any of
them came prowling around the spring-hole where he was fishing, he would
tease them by letting them see how fat he was. Sometimes he would bring
up a fine fish and eat it right before them without offering to share so
much as a mouthful. He had done this several times to Mr. Lynx, and
though Mr. Lynx had begged and begged for just a bite, Mr. Otter had
refused the teeniest, weeniest bit and had even made fun of Mr. Lynx for
not being smart enough to get sufficient to eat.
"Now it happened that one fine morning Mr. Otter took it into his head
to take a walk in the Green Forest. It was a beautiful morning, and Mr.
Otter went farther than he intended. He was just trying to make up his
mind whether to turn back or go just a little farther, when he heard
stealthy footsteps behind him. He looked over his shoulder, and what he
saw helped him to make up his mind in a hurry. There, creeping over the
frozen snow, was Mr. Lynx, and the sides of Mr. Lynx were very thin, and
the eyes of Mr. Lynx looked very hungry and fierce, and the claws of Mr.
Lynx were very long and strong and cruel looking. Mr. Otter made up his
mind right away that the cold, black water of that open spring-hole was
the only place for him, and he started for it without even passing the
time of day with Mr. Lynx.
"Now Mr. Otter's legs were very short, just as Little Joe's are, but it
was surprising how fast he got over the snow that beautiful morning.
When he came to the top of a little hill, he would slide down, because
he found that he could go faster that way. But in spite of all he could
do, Mr. Lynx traveled faster, coming with great jumps and snarling and
spitting with every jump. Mr. Otter was almost out of breath when he
reached the high bank just above the open spring-hole. It was very
steep, very steep indeed. Mr. Otter threw a hasty glance over his
shoulder. Mr. Lynx was so near that in one more jump he would catch
him. There wasn't time to run around to the place where the bank was
low. Mr. Otter threw himself flat, gave a frantic kick with his hind
legs, shut his eyes, and shot down, down, down the slippery bank so fast
that he lost what little breath he had left. Then he landed with a great
splash in the cold, black water and was safe, for Mr. Lynx was afraid of
the water. He stopped right on the very edge of the steep bank, where he
growled and screeched and told Mr. Otter what dreadful things he would
do to him if ever he caught him.
"Now in spite of his dreadful fright, Mr. Otter had enjoyed that
exciting slide down the steep bank. He got to thinking about it after
Mr. Lynx had slunk away into the Green Forest, and when he was rested
and could breathe comfortably again, he made up his mind to try it once
more. So he climbed out where the bank was low and ran around to the
steep place and once more slid down into the water. It was great fun,
the greatest fun Mr. Otter ever had had. He did it again and again. In
fact, he kept doing it all the rest of that day. And he found that the
more he slid, the smoother and more slippery became the slippery-slide,
for the water dripped from his brown coat and froze on the slide.
"After that, as long as the snow lasted, Mr. Otter spent all his time,
between eating and sleeping, sliding down his slippery-slide. He learned
just how to hold his legs so that they would not be hurt. When gentle
Sister South Wind came in the spring and took away all the snow, Mr.
Otter hardly knew what to do with himself, until one day a bright idea
popped into his head and made him laugh aloud. Why not make a
slippery-slide of mud and clay? Right away he tried it. It wasn't as
good as the snow slide, but by trying and trying, he found a way to make
it better than at first. After that Mr. Otter was perfectly happy, for
summer and winter he had a slippery-slide. He taught his children, and
they taught their children how to make slippery-slides, and ever since
that long-ago day when the world was young, the making of
slippery-slides has been the family secret of the Otters."
"And it's the best secret in the world," said Little Joe Otter, swimming
up behind Grandfather Frog just then.
"I wish--I wish I had a slippery-slide," said Peter Rabbit wistfully.
"Chug-a-rum!" said Grandfather Frog. "Chug-a-rum! Be content with the
blessings you have got, Peter Rabbit. Be content with the blessings you
have got. No good comes of wishing for things which it never was meant
that you should have. It is a bad habit and it makes discontent."
XIII
HOW DRUMMER THE WOODPECKER CAME BY HIS RED CAP
XIII
HOW DRUMMER THE WOODPECKER CAME BY HIS RED CAP
Drummer the Woodpecker was beating his long roll on a hollow tree in the
Green Forest. Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat! Drummer
thought it the most beautiful sound in the world. After each long roll
he would stop and listen for a reply. You see, sometimes one of his
family in another part of the Green Forest, or over in the Old Orchard,
would hear him drumming and would hasten to find a hollow tree himself
and drum too. Then they would drum back and forth to each other for the
longest time, until all the other little people would scold because of
the racket and would wish they could stop their ears. But it was music,
real music to Drummer and all the members of his family, and Drummer
never was happier than when beating his long roll as he was doing now.
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat-tat! Suddenly Drummer heard a
scratching sound inside the hollow tree. Once more he beat the long roll
and the scratching sound grew louder. Then he heard a voice just a
little way above him.
"Do Ah hear some one knocking?" asked the voice.
Drummer looked up. There was Unc' Billy Possum's sharp little face
sticking out of his doorway, and Unc' Billy looked very sleepy and very
cross and at the same time as if he were trying very hard to be polite
and pleasant.
"Hello, Unc' Billy! Is this your house? I didn't know it when I began to
drum. I wasn't knocking; I was drumming. I just love to drum," replied
Drummer.
"Ah reckons yo' do by the noise yo' have been making, but Ah don't like
being inside the drum. Ah'm feelin' powerful bad in the haid just now,
Brer Drummer, and Ah cert'nly will take it kindly if yo' will find
another drum," said Unc' Billy, holding his head in both hands as if he
had a terrible headache.
Drummer looked disappointed and a little bit hurt, but he is one of the
best-natured little people in the Green Forest and always willing to be
obliging.
"I'm sorry if I have disturbed you, Unc' Billy," he replied promptly.
"Of course I won't drum here any longer, if you don't like it. I'll look
for another hollow tree, though I don't believe I can find another as
good. It is one of the best sounding trees I have ever drummed on. It's
simply beautiful!" There was a great deal of regret in his voice, as if
it were the hardest work to give up that tree.
"Ah'll tell yo' where there's another just as good," replied Unc' Billy.
"Yo' see the top of that ol' chestnut-tree way down there in the holler?
Well, yo' try that. Ah'm sure yo' will like it."
Drummer thanked Unc' Billy politely and bobbed his red-capped head as he
spread his wings and started in the direction of the big chestnut-tree.
Unc' Billy grinned as he watched him. Then he slowly and solemnly winked
one eye at Peter Rabbit, who had just come along.
"What's the joke?" asked Peter.
"Ah done just sent Brer Drummer down to the big chestnut-tree to drum,"
Unc' Billy replied, winking again.
"Why, that's Bobby Coon's house!" cried Peter, and then he saw the joke
and began to grin too.
In a few minutes they heard Drummer's long roll. Then again and again.
The third time it broke off right in the middle, and right away a
terrible fuss started down at the big chestnut-tree. They could hear
Drummer's voice, and it sounded very angry.
"Ah reckon Brer Coon was waked up and lost his temper," chuckled Unc'
Billy. "It's a bad habit to lose one's temper. Yes, Sah, it cert'nly is
a bad habit. Ah reckons Ah better be turning in fo' another nap, Brer
Rabbit." With that Unc' Billy disappeared, still chuckling.
Hardly was he out of sight when Peter saw Drummer heading that way, and
Drummer looked very much put out about something. He just nodded to
Peter and flew straight to Unc' Billy's tree. Then he began to drum. How
he did drum! His red-capped head flew back and forth as Peter never had
seen it fly before. Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat-tat!
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat! Drummer hardly paused for breath. There was too
much noise for Peter, and he kicked up his heels and started for the
Smiling Pool, and all the way there he laughed.
"I hope Unc' Billy is enjoying a good nap," he chuckled. "Drummer
certainly has turned the joke back on Unc' Billy this time, and I guess
it serves him right."
He was still laughing when he reached the Smiling Pool. Grandfather Frog
watched him until he began to smile too. You know laughter is catching.
"Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho!" laughed Peter and held his sides.
"What is the joke?" demanded Grandfather Frog in his deepest voice.
When Peter could get his breath, he told Grandfather Frog all about the
joke on Unc' Billy Possum. "Listen!" said Peter at the end of the story.
They both listened. Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat! The long roll of Drummer the
Woodpecker could be heard clear down to the Smiling Pool, and Peter and
Grandfather Frog knew by the sound that it still came from Unc' Billy's
house.
"Chug-a-rum! That reminds me," said Grandfather Frog. "Did you ever hear
how Drummer came by his red cap?"
"No," replied Peter. "How did he?" There was great eagerness in Peter's
voice.
"Well," said Grandfather Frog, settling himself in a way that Peter knew
meant a story, "of course Drummer over there came by his red cap because
it was handed down in the family, but of course there's a reason."
"Of course," said Peter, quite as if he knew all about it.
Grandfather Frog rolled his great, goggly eyes and looked at Peter
suspiciously, but Peter looked so innocent and eager that he went on
with his story.
"Of course, it all happened way back in the days when the world was
young."
"Of course!" said Peter.
This time Grandfather Frog took no notice. "Drummer's grandfather a
thousand times removed was just a plain little black and white bird
without the least bit of bright color on him. He didn't have any
sweeter voice than Drummer has to-day. Altogether he seemed to his
neighbors a no-account little fellow, and they didn't have much to do
with him. So Mr. Woodpecker lived pretty much alone. In fact, he lived
alone so much that when he found a hollow tree he used to pound on it
just to make a noise and keep from being lonesome, and that is how he
learned to drum. You see, he hadn't any voice for singing, and so he got
in the habit of drumming to keep his spirits up.
"Now all the time, right down in his heart, Mr. Woodpecker envied the
birds who had handsome coats. He used to wish and wish that he had
something bright, if it were no more than a pretty necktie. But he never
said anything about it, and no one suspected it but Old Mother Nature,
and Mr. Woodpecker didn't know that she knew it. Whenever he got to
wishing too much, he would try to forget it by hunting for worms that
bored into the trees of the Green Forest and which other birds could not
get because they did not have the stout bill and the long tongue Mr.
Woodpecker possessed.
"Now it happened that while Old Mother Nature was busy elsewhere, a
great number of worms settled in the Green Forest and began to bore into
the trees, so that after a while many trees grew sickly and then died.
None of the other little people seemed to notice it, or if they did,
they said it was none of their business and that Old Mother Nature ought
to look out for such things. They shrugged their shoulders and went on
playing and having a good time. But Mr. Woodpecker was worried. He loved
the Green Forest dearly, and he began to fear that if something wasn't
done, there wouldn't be any Green Forest. He said as much to some of his
neighbors, but they only laughed at him. The more he thought about it,
the more Mr. Woodpecker worried.
"'Something must be done,' said he to himself. 'Yes, Sir, something must
be done. If Old Mother Nature doesn't come to attend to things pretty
soon, it will be too late.' Then he made up his mind that he would do
what he could. From early morning until night he hunted worms and dug
them out of the trees. He would start at the bottom of a tree and work
up, going all over it until he was sure that there wasn't another worm
left. Then he would fly to the next tree. He pounded with his bill until
his neck ached. He didn't even take time to drum. His neighbors laughed
at him at first, but he kept right on working, working, working every
hour of the day.
"At last Old Mother Nature appeared very unexpectedly. She went all
through the Green Forest, and her sharp eyes saw all that Mr. Woodpecker
had done. She didn't say a word to him, but she called all the little
people of the Green Forest before her, and when they were all gathered
around, she sent for Mr. Woodpecker. She made him sit up on a dead limb
of a tall chestnut-tree where all could see him. Then she told just what
he had done, and how he had saved the Green Forest, and how great a debt
the other little people owed to him.
"'And now that you may never forget it,' she concluded, 'I herewith make
Mr. Woodpecker the policeman of the trees, and this is his reward to be
worn by him and his children forever and ever.' With that she called
Mr. Woodpecker down before her and put on his head a beautiful red cap,
for she knew how in his heart he had longed to wear something bright.
Mr. Woodpecker thanked Old Mother Nature as best he could and then
slipped away where he could be alone with his happiness. All the rest of
the day the other little people heard him drumming off by himself in the
Green Forest and smiled, for they knew that that was the way he was
expressing his joy, having no voice to sing.
"And that," concluded Grandfather Frog, "is how Drummer whom you know
came by his red cap."
"Isn't it splendid!" cried Peter Rabbit, and then he and Grandfather
Frog both smiled as they heard a long rat-a-tat-tat-tat roll out from
the Green Forest.
XIV
HOW OLD MR. TREE TOAD FOUND OUT HOW TO CLIMB
XIV
HOW OLD MR. TREE TOAD FOUND OUT HOW TO CLIMB
Of all the puzzling things over which Peter Rabbit had sat and thought
and wondered until the brains in that funny little head of his were
topsy-turvy, none was more puzzling than the fact that Sticky-toes the
Tree Toad could climb. Often Peter had watched him climb up the trunk of
a tree or jump from one branch to another and then thought of Old Mr.
Toad, own cousin to Sticky-toes, and of Grandfather Frog, another own
cousin, who couldn't climb at all, and wondered how it had all come
about that one cousin could climb and be just as much at home in the
trees as the birds, while the others couldn't climb at all.
He had it on his mind one morning when he met Old Mr. Toad solemnly
hopping down the Lone Little Path. Right then and there Peter resolved
to ask Old Mr. Toad. "Good morning, Mr. Toad," said Peter politely.
"Have you a few minutes to spare?"
Old Mr. Toad hopped into the shade of a big mullein leaf. "I guess so,
if it is anything important," said he. "Phew! Hot, isn't it? I simply
can't stand the sun. Now what is that you've got on your mind, Peter?"
Peter hesitated a minute, for he wasn't at all sure that Old Mr. Toad
would think the matter sufficiently important for him to spend his time
in story telling. Then he blurted out the whole matter and how he had
puzzled and puzzled why Sticky-toes was able to climb when none of the
rest of the Toad family could. Old Mr. Toad chuckled.
"Looking for a story as usual, I see," said he. "You ought to go to
Grandfather Frog for this one, because Sticky-toes is really a Frog and
not a Toad. But we are all cousins, and I don't mind telling you about
Sticky-toes, or rather about his great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather,
who was the first of the family ever to climb a tree. You see, it is all
in the family, and I am very proud of my family, which is one of the
very oldest."
Peter settled himself comfortably and prepared to listen. Old Mr. Toad
snapped up a foolish spider who came too near and then cleared his
throat.
"Once on a time," he began, "when Old Mother Nature made the first land
and the first trees and plants, the Toads and the Frogs were the first
to leave the water to see what dry land was like. The Toads, being
bolder than the Frogs, went all over the new land while the Frogs kept
within jumping distance of the water, just as Grandfather Frog does to
this day. There was one Frog, however, who, seeing how bravely and
boldly the Toads went forth to see all that was to be seen in the new
land, made up his mind that he too would see the Great World. He was the
smallest of the Frogs, and his friends and relatives warned him not to
go, saying that he would come to no good end.
"But he wouldn't listen to their dismal croakings and hurried after the
Toads. Being able to make longer jumps than they could, he soon caught
up with them, and they all journeyed on together. The Toads were so
pleased that one of their cousins was brave enough to join them that
they made him very welcome and treated him as one of themselves, so that
they soon got to thinking of him as a Toad and not as a Frog at all.
"Now the Toads soon found that Old Mother Nature was having a hard time
to make plants grow, because as fast as they came up, they were eaten by
insects. You see, she had so many things to attend to in those days when
the world was young that she had to leave a great many things to take
care of themselves and get along the best they could, and it was this
way with the plants. It was then that the great idea came to my
great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather, and he called all the Toads
together and proposed that they help Old Mother Nature by catching the
bugs and worms that were destroying the plants.
"Little Mr. Frog, who had been adopted by the Toads, was one of the most
eager to help, and he was busy every minute. After a while the Toads had
caught most of the bugs and worms on the ground and within reach, and
the plants began to grow. But when the plants got above the reach of the
Toads, the bugs and the worms were safe once more and began to multiply
so that the plants suffered and stopped growing. You see, there were no
birds in those days to help. One day little Mr. Frog sat under a bush on
which most of the leaves had been eaten. He saw a worm eating a leaf on
one of the lower branches. It was quite a way above his head. It worried
him. He kept his eyes on that worm and thought and thought until his
head ached. At last he got an idea. 'I wonder,' thought he, 'if I jump
as hard as I can, if I can catch that fellow. I'll try it. It will do
no harm to try.'
"So he drew his long legs close under him, and then he jumped up with
all his might. He didn't quite reach the bug, but he got his hands on
the branch and by pulling and struggling, he managed to get up on it. It
was a very uncertain seat, but he hung on and crept along until he could
dart his tongue out and catch that worm. Then he saw another, and in
trying to catch that one he lost his balance and fell to the ground with
a thump. It quite knocked the wind from his body.
"That night little Mr. Frog studied and studied, trying to think of some
way by which he could get up in the bushes and trees and clear them of
bugs and worms. 'If only I could hold on once I get up there, I would be
all right,' thought he. 'Then I could leave the bugs and worms on the
ground for my cousins the Toads to look after, while I look after those
beyond their reach.'
"The next day and the next, and for many days thereafter, little Mr.
Frog kept jumping for bugs on the bushes. He got many thumps and bumps,
but he didn't mind these, for little by little he was learning how to
hang on to the branches once he got up in them. Then one day, just by
accident, he put one hand against the trunk of a young pine-tree, and
when he started to take it away, he found it stuck fast. He had to pull
to get it free. Like a flash an idea popped into his head. He rubbed a
little of the pitch, for that was what had made his hand stick, on both
hands, and then he started to climb a tree. As long as the pitch lasted,
he could climb.
"Little Mr. Frog was tickled to death, with his discovery, but he didn't
say a word to any one about it. Every day he rubbed pitch on his hands
and then climbed about in the bushes and low trees, ridding them of bugs
and worms. Of course, it wasn't very pleasant to have that pitch on his
hands, because dirt and all sorts of things which he happened to touch
stuck to them, but he made the best of a bad matter and washed them
carefully when he was through with his day's work.
"Quite unexpectedly Old Mother Nature returned to see how the trees and
the plants were getting on. You see, she was worried about them. When
she found what the Toads had been doing, she was mightily pleased. Then
she noticed that some of the bushes and low trees had very few leaves
left, while others looked thrifty and strong.
"'That's queer,' said Old Mother Nature to herself and went over to
examine a bush. Hanging on to a branch for dear life she saw a queer
little fellow who was so busy that he didn't see her at all. It was
little Mr. Frog. He was catching bugs as fast as he could. Old Mother
Nature wrinkled up her brows. 'Now however did he learn to climb?'
thought she. Then she hid where she could watch. By and by she saw
little Mr. Frog tumble out of the bush, because, you know, the pitch on
his hands had worn off. He hurried over to a pine-tree and rubbed more
pitch on and then jumped up into the bush and went to work again.
"You can guess how astonished Old Mother Nature was when she saw this
performance. And she was pleased. Oh, yes, indeed, Old Mother Nature
was wonderfully pleased. She was pleased because little Mr. Frog was
trying so hard to help her, and she was pleased because he had been so
smart in finding a way to climb. When she had laughed until she could
laugh no more at the way little Mr. Frog had managed to stick to his
work, she took him down very gently and wiped the pitch from his hands.
Then she gently pinched the end of each finger and each toe so that they
ended in little round discs instead of being pointed as before, and in
each little disc was a clean, sticky substance. Then she tossed him up
in a tree, and when he touched a branch, he found that he could hold on
without the least danger of falling.