that day on little Mr. Frog lived in the trees, as did his children and
his children's children, even as Sticky-toes does to-day. And though he
was really a Frog, he was called the Tree Toad, and the Toads have
always been proud to have him so called. And this is the end of the
story," concluded Old Mr. Toad.
XV
HOW OLD MR. HERON LEARNED PATIENCE
XV
HOW OLD MR. HERON LEARNED PATIENCE
Whenever in the spring or summer Peter Rabbit visited the Smiling Pool
or the Laughing Brook, he was pretty sure to run across Longlegs the
Heron. The first tune Peter saw him, he thought that never in all his
life had he seen such a homely fellow. Longlegs was standing with his
feet in the water and his head drawn back on his shoulders so that he
didn't seem to have any neck at all. Peter sat and stared at him most
impolitely. He knew that he was impolite, but for the life of him he
couldn't help staring.
"He's all legs," thought Peter. "Old Mother Nature must have been in a
hurry when she made his great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather way back
when the world was young and forgot to give him a neck. I wonder why he
doesn't move."
But Longlegs didn't move. Peter stared as long as his patience held out.
Then he gave up and went on to see what else he could find. But in a
little while Peter was back again at the place where he had seen
Longlegs. He didn't really expect to find him there, but he did. So far
as Peter could see, Longlegs hadn't moved. "Must be asleep," thought
Peter, and after watching for a few minutes, went away again. Half an
hour later Peter was once more back. There stood Longlegs just as
before. "Now I _know_ he is asleep," muttered Peter.
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than something happened,
something so sudden and surprising that Peter lost his balance and
nearly fell over backward. The long bill which Peter had seen sticking
forth from between those humped-up shoulders darted out and down into
the water like a flash. Behind that bill was the longest neck Peter ever
had seen! It was so long that Peter blinked to be perfectly sure that
his eyes had not been playing him a trick. But they hadn't, for Longlegs
was gulping down a little fish he had just caught, and when at last it
was down, he stretched his neck up very straight while he looked this
way and that way, and Peter just gasped.
"I thought he was all legs, but instead of that he's all neck," muttered
Peter.
Then Longlegs slowly drew his head down, and it seemed to Peter as if he
must somehow wind that long neck up inside his body to get it so
completely out of the way. In a minute Longlegs was standing just as
before, with seemingly no neck at all. Peter watched until he grew
tired, but Longlegs didn't move again. After that Peter went every
chance he had to watch Longlegs, but he never had patience to watch long
enough to see Longlegs catch another fish. He spoke of it one day to
Grandfather Frog. At the mere mention of Longlegs, Grandfather Frog sat
up and took notice.
"Where did you see him?" asked Grandfather Frog, and Peter thought his
voice sounded anxious.
"Down the Laughing Brook," replied Peter. "Why?"
"Oh, nothing," said Grandfather Frog, trying to make his voice sound as
if he weren't interested. "I just wondered where the long-legged
nuisance might be."
"He's the laziest fellow I ever saw," declared Peter. "He just stands
doing nothing all day."
"Huh!" exclaimed Grandfather Frog. "If your family had suffered from him
as much as mine has, you would say that he was altogether too busy. Ask
the Trout what they think, or the Minnow family."
"Oh," said Peter, "you mean that when he stands still that way he is
fishing."
Grandfather Frog nodded.
"Well," said Peter, "all I can say is that he is the most patient fellow
I ever saw. I didn't suppose there was such patience."
"He comes rightly by it," returned Grandfather Frog. "He gets it from
his great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather, who lived when the world was
young. He learned it then."
"How?" demanded Peter, eager for a story.
Grandfather Frog's eyes took on a far-away look, as if he were seeing
into that long-ago past. "Chug-a-rum!" he began. "It always seemed to
old Mr. Heron as if Old Mother Nature must have made him last of all the
birds and was in such a hurry that she didn't care how he looked. His
legs were so long and his neck was so long that all his neighbors
laughed at him and made fun of him. He was just as awkward as he looked.
His long legs were in his way. He didn't know what to do with his long
neck. When he tried to run, everybody shouted with laughter. When he
tried to fly, he stretched his long neck out, and then he couldn't keep
his balance and just flopped about, while all his neighbors laughed
harder than ever. Poor Mr. Heron was ashamed of himself, actually
ashamed of himself. He quite overlooked the fact that Old Mother Nature
had given him a really beautiful coat of feathers. Some of those who
laughed at him would have given anything to have possessed such a
beautiful coat. But Mr. Heron didn't know this. He couldn't bear to be
laughed at, wherein he was very like most people.
"So he tried his best to keep out of sight as much as possible. Now in
those days, as at present, the rushes grew tall beside the Smiling Pool,
and among them Mr. Heron found a hiding-place. Because his legs were
long, he could wade out in the water and keep quite out of sight of
those who lived on the land. So he found a use for his long legs and
was glad that they were long. At first he used to go ashore to hunt for
food. One day as he was wading ashore, he surprised a school of little
fish and managed to catch one. It tasted so good that he wanted more,
and every day he went fishing. Whenever he saw little fish swimming
where the water was shallow, he would rush in among them and do his best
to catch one. Sometimes he did, but more often he didn't. You see, he
was so clumsy and awkward that he made a great splashing, and the fish
would hear him coming and get away.
"One day after he had tried and tried without catching even one, he
stopped just at the edge of the rushes to rest. His long neck ached, and
to rest it he laid it back on his shoulders. For a long time he stood
there, resting. The water around his feet was cool and comforting. He
was very comfortable but for one thing,--he was hungry. He was just
making up his mind to go on and hunt for something to eat when he saw a
school of little fish swimming straight towards him. 'Perhaps,' thought
he, 'if I keep perfectly still, they will come near enough for me to
catch one.' So he kept perfectly still. He didn't dare even stretch his
long neck up. Sure enough, the little fish swam almost to his very feet.
They didn't see him at all. When they were near enough, he darted his
long neck forward and caught one without any trouble at all. Mr. Heron
was almost as surprised as the fish he had caught. You see, he
discovered that with his neck laid back on his shoulders that way, he
could dart his head forward ever so much quicker than when he was
holding it up straight. It really was a great discovery for Mr. Heron.
"Of course all the other fish darted away in great fright, but Mr. Heron
didn't mind. He settled himself in great contentment, for now he was
less hungry. By and by some foolish tadpoles came wriggling along. 'I'll
just try catching one of them for practice. Maybe they are good to eat,'
thought Mr. Heron, and just as before darted his head and great bill
downward and caught a tadpole.
"'Um-m, they are good!' exclaimed Mr. Heron, and once more settled
himself to watch and wait.
"That was a sad day for the Frog family, but a great day for Mr. Heron
when he discovered that tadpoles were good to eat." Grandfather Frog
sighed mournfully. "Yes," he continued, "that was a great day for Mr.
Heron. He had discovered that he could gain more by patient waiting
than by frantic hunting, and he had found that his long neck really was
a blessing. After that, whenever he was hungry, he would stand perfectly
still beside some little pool where foolish young fish or careless
tadpoles were at play and wait patiently until they came within reach.
"One day he was startled into an attempt to fly by hearing the stealthy
footsteps of Mr. Fox behind him. His head was drawn back on his
shoulders at the time, and he was so excited that he forgot to
straighten it out. Just imagine how surprised he was, and how surprised
Mr. Fox was, when he sailed away in beautiful flight, his long legs
trailing behind him. With his neck carried that way, he could fly as
well as any one. From that day on, no one laughed at Mr. Heron because
of his long legs and long neck. Mr. Heron himself became proud of them.
You see, he had learned how to use what he had been given. Also he had
learned the value of patience. So he was happy and envied no one. But he
still liked best to keep by himself and became known as the lone
fisherman, just as Longlegs is to-day. Chug-a-rum! Isn't that Longlegs
coming this way this very minute? This is no place for me!"
With a great splash Grandfather Frog dived into the Smiling Pool.
[Illustration: "His legs were so long, and his neck was so long that all
his neighbors laughed at him." _Page_ 210.]
XVI
HOW TUFTY THE LYNX HAPPENS TO HAVE A STUMP OF A TAIL
XVI
HOW TUFTY THE LYNX HAPPENS TO HAVE A STUMP OF A TAIL
In all his life Peter Rabbit had seen Tufty the Lynx but once, but that
once was enough. Tufty, you know, lives in the Great Woods. But once,
when the winter was very cold, he had ventured down into the Green
Forest, hoping that it would be easier to get a living there. It was
then that Peter had seen him. In fact, Peter had had the narrowest of
escapes, and the very memory of it made him shiver. He never would
forget that great, gray, skulking form that slipped like a shadow
through the trees, that fierce, bearded face, those cruel, pale
yellow-green eyes, or that switching stump of a tail.
That tail fascinated Peter. It was just an apology for a tail. For
Tufty's size it was hardly as much of a tail as Peter himself has. It
made Peter feel a lot better. Also it made him very curious. The first
chance he got, he asked his cousin, Jumper the Hare, about it. You know
Jumper used to live in the Great Woods where Tufty lives, and Peter felt
sure that he must know the reason why Tufty has such a ridiculous stub
of a tail. Jumper did know, and this is the story he told Peter:
"Way back in the beginning of things lived old Mr. Lynx."
"I know," interrupted Peter. "He was the
great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather of Tufty, and he wasn't old then."
"Who's telling this story?" demanded Jumper crossly. "If you know it
why did you ask me?"
"I beg your pardon. Indeed I do. I won't say another word," replied
Peter hastily.
"All right, see that you don't. Interruptions always spoil a story,"
said Jumper. "You are quite right about old Mr. Lynx. He wasn't old
then. No one was old, because it was in the beginning of things. At that
time Mr. Lynx boasted a long tail, quite as fine a tail as his cousin,
Mr. Panther. He was very proud of it. You know there is a saying that
pride goes before a fall. It was so with Mr. Lynx. He boasted about his
tail. He said that it was the finest tail in the world. He said so much
that his neighbors got tired of hearing about it. He made a perfect
nuisance of himself. He switched and waved his long tail about
continually. It seemed as if that tail were never still. He made fun of
those whose tails were shorter or of different shape or less handsome.
He quite forgot that that tail had been given him by Old Mother Nature,
but talked and acted as if he had grown that tail himself.
"When at last his neighbors could stand it no longer, they decided to
teach him a lesson. One day while he was off hunting, they held a
meeting, and it was decided that the very next time that Mr. Lynx
boasted of his tail old King Bear should slip up behind him and step on
it as close to his body as he could, and then each of the others should
pull a little tuft of hair from it, so that it would be a long time
before Mr. Lynx would be able to boast of its beauty again.
"The chance came that very evening. Mr. Lynx had had a very successful
day, and he was feeling very fine. He began to boast of what a great
hunter he was, and of how very clever and very smart he was, and then,
as usual, he got to boasting about his tail. He was so intent on his
boasting that he didn't notice old King Bear slipping around behind him.
Old King Bear waited until that long tail was still for just an instant,
and then he stepped on it as close to the roots of it as he could. Then
all the other little people shouted with glee and began to pull little
tufts of hair from it, until it was the most disreputable-looking tail
ever seen.
"Old Mr. Lynx let out a yowl and a screech that was enough to make your
blood run cold. But he couldn't do a thing, though he tore the ground up
with his great claws and pulled with all his might. You see, old King
Bear was very big and very heavy, and Mr. Lynx couldn't budge his tail
a bit. And he couldn't turn to fight old King Bear, though it seemed as
if he would turn himself inside out trying to.
"At last, when old King Bear thought he had been punished enough, he
gave the word to the others, and they all scattered to safe
hiding-places, for they were of no mind to be within reach of those
great claws of Mr. Lynx. Then old King Bear let him go.
"'By the looks of it, I hardly think that you will boast of that tail
for a long time to come, Mr. Lynx,' said he in his deep, rumbly-grumbly
voice.
"Mr. Lynx turned and screamed in old King Bear's face, but that was all
he dared do, for you know old King Bear was very big and strong. Then he
turned and slunk away in the shadows by himself. Now Mr. Lynx had a
terrible temper, and when he saw how ragged and disreputable his once
beautiful tail looked, he flew into a terrible rage, and he swore that
no one should laugh at his tail. What do you think he did?"
"What?" asked Peter eagerly.
"He bit it off," replied Jumper slowly. "Yes, Sir, he bit it off right
at the place where old King Bear had stepped on it. Of course he was
sorry the minute he had done it, but it was done, and that was all there
was to it. After that he kept out of sight of all his neighbors. He
prowled around mostly at night and was very stealthy and soft-footed,
always keeping in the shadows. His temper grew worse and worse from
brooding over his lost tail. When any one chanced to surprise him, he
would switch his stub of a tail just as he used to switch his long tail.
You see he would forget. Then when he was laughed at by those bigger
than he, he would scream angrily and slink away like a great, gray
shadow.
"Once he besought Old Mother Nature to give him a new tail, but in vain.
She gave him a lecture which he never forgot. She told him that it was
no one's fault but his own that he had lost the beautiful tail that he
did have and had nothing but a stub left. Mr. Lynx crawled on his
stomach to the feet of Old Mother Nature and begged with tears in his
eyes. Old Mother Nature looked him straight in the eyes, but he couldn't
look straight back. He tried, but he couldn't do it. He would shift his
eyes from side to side.
"'Look me straight in the face, Mr. Lynx, and tell me that if I give you
a handsome new tail, you will never boast about it or take undue pride
in it,' said she.
"Mr. Lynx looked her straight in the face and said 'I--' Then his eyes
shifted. He brought them back to Old Mother Nature's face with a jerk
and began again. 'I promise--' Once more his eyes shifted. Then he gave
up and sneaked away into the darkest shadows he could find. You see, he
couldn't look Old Mother Nature in the face and tell a lie, and that was
just what he had been trying to do. The only reason he wanted a new tail
was so that he could be proud of it and boast of it as he had of the old
one. He hadn't a single real use for it, as he had found out since he
had had only that stub.
"Old Mother Nature knew this perfectly well, for you can't fool her, and
it's of no use to try. So Mr. Lynx never did get a new tail. He
continued to live very much by himself in the darkest parts of the Green
Forest, never showing himself to others if he could help it. To the
little people, he was like a fearsome shadow to be watched out for at
all times. His children were just like him, and his children's children.
Tufty is the same way. No one likes him. All who are smaller than he
fear him. And if he knows why he has only a stub of a tail, he never
mentions it. But you will notice that he switches it just as if it were
a real tail. I think he likes to imagine that it is a real one."
"I've noticed," replied Peter. He was silent for a few minutes. Then he
added: "Isn't it curious how often we want things we don't need at all,
and how those are the things that make us the most trouble in this
world?"
THE END