[Illustration: Rag Bag Mammy brings out candy with red and white stripes
wrapped around it]
ROOTABAGA PIGEONS
BY
CARL SANDBURG
Author of “Rootabaga Stories,” “Slabs of the Sunburnt West,” “Smoke and
Steel,” “Chicago Poems,” “Cornhuskers”
ILLUSTRATIONS AND DECORATIONS
BY
MAUD AND MISKA PETERSHAM
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY
HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY, INC.
PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. BY
THE QUINN & BODEN COMPANY
RAHWAY, N. J.
In compliance with current copyright law, LBS Archival Products produced
this replacement volume on paper that meets the ANSI Standard
Z39.48–1984 to replace the irreparably deteriorated original.
1992
♾™
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TO THREE ILLINOIS PIGEONS
CONTENTS
1.
Two Stories Told by the Potato Face Blind Man
The Skyscraper to the Moon and How the Green Rat with the
Rheumatism Ran a Thousand Miles Twice _3_
Slipfoot and How He Nearly Always Never Gets What He Goes After _9_
2.
Two Stories About Bugs and Eggs
Many, Many Weddings in One Corner House _19_
Shush Shush, the Big Buff Banty Hen Who Laid an Egg in the
Postmaster’s Hat _27_
3.
Five Stories About Hatrack the Horse, Six Pigeons, Three Wild
Babylonian Baboons, Six Umbrellas, Bozo the Button Buster
How Ragbag Mammy Kept Her Secret While the Wind Blew Away the
Village of Hat Pins _33_
How Six Pigeons Came Back to Hatrack the Horse After Many
Accidents and Six Telegrams _41_
How the Three Wild Babylonian Baboons Went Away in the Rain
Eating Bread and Butter _49_
How Six Umbrellas Took Off Their Straw Hats to Show Respect to
the One Big Umbrella _55_
How Bozo the Button Buster Busted All His Buttons When a Mouse
Came _63_
4.
Two Stories About Four Boys Who Had Different Dreams
How Googler and Gaggler, the Two Christmas Babies, Came Home with
Monkey Wrenches _75_
How Johnny the Wham Sleeps in Money All the Time and Joe the Wimp
Shines and Sees Things _87_
5.
Two Stories Told by the Potato Face Blind Man About Two Girls with Red
Hearts
How Deep Red Roses Goes Back and Forth Between the Clock and the
Looking Glass _97_
How Pink Peony Sent Spuds, the Ballplayer, Up to Pick Four Moons _105_
6.
Three Stories About Moonlight, Pigeons, Bees, Egypt, Jesse James,
Spanish Onions, the Queen of the Cracked Heads, the King of the Paper
Sacks
How Dippy the Wisp and Slip Me Liz Came in the Moonshine Where
the Potato Face Blind Man Sat with His Accordion _115_
How Hot Balloons and His Pigeon Daughters Crossed Over into the
Rootabaga Country _127_
How Two Sweetheart Dippies Sat in the Moonlight on a Lumber Yard
Fence and Heard About the Sooners and the Boomers _139_
7.
Two Stories Out of the Tall Grass
The Haystack Cricket and How Things Are Different Up in the Moon
Towns _153_
Why the Big Ball Game Between Hot Grounders and the Grand
Standers Was a Hot Game _161_
8.
Two Stories Out of Oklahoma and Nebraska
The Huckabuck Family and How They Raised Pop Corn in Nebraska and
Quit and Came Back _169_
Yang Yang and Hoo Hoo, or the Song of the Left Foot of the Shadow
of the Goose _181_
9.
One Story About Big People Now and Little People Long Ago
How a Skyscraper and a Railroad Train Got Picked Up and Carried
Away from Pig’s Eye Valley Far in the Pickax Mountains _191_
10.
Three Stories About the Letter X and How It Got into the Alphabet
Pig Wisps _201_
Kiss Me _207_
Blue Silver _215_
FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
Rag Bag Mammy brings out candy with red and white stripes wrapped
around it
_Frontispiece_ (_in color_)
PAGE
On the last step of the stairway my foot slips 11
The Hot Cookie Pan came with a pan of hot cookies and the Coal
Bucket with coal 21
The mouse bit the knot and cut it loose 67
They went to sleep on top of the wagon 81
She was sitting on a ladder feeding baby clocks to the baby
alligators 119
One of the pigeons rang the bell 129
She carried the squash into the kitchen 171
Out into the snowstorm Flax Eyes rode that day 209
1. Two Stories Told by the Potato Face Blind Man.
_People_: Blixie Bimber
Blixie Bimber’s Mother
The Potato Face Blind Man
A Green Rat with the Rheumatism
Bricklayers
Mortar Men
Riveters
A Skyscraper
Slipfoot
A Stairway to the Moon
A Trapeze
[Illustration]
The Skyscraper to the Moon and How the Green Rat with the Rheumatism Ran
a Thousand Miles Twice
Blixie Bimber’s mother was chopping hash. And the hatchet broke. So
Blixie started downtown with fifteen cents to buy a new hash hatchet for
chopping hash.
Downtown she peeped around the corner next nearest the postoffice where
the Potato Face Blind Man sat with his accordion. And the old man had
his legs crossed, one foot on the sidewalk, the other foot up in the
air.
The foot up in the air had a green rat sitting on it, tying the old
man’s shoestrings in knots and double knots. Whenever the old man’s foot
wiggled and wriggled the green rat wiggled and wriggled.
The tail of the rat wrapped five wraps around the shoe and then fastened
and tied like a package.
On the back of the green rat was a long white swipe from the end of
the nose to the end of the tail. Two little white swipes stuck up over
the eyelashes. And five short thick swipes of white played
pussy-wants-a-corner back of the ears and along the ribs of the green
rat.
They were talking, the old man and the green rat, talking about
alligators and why the alligators keep their baby shoes locked up in
trunks over the winter time—and why the rats in the moon lock their
mittens in ice boxes.
“I had the rheumatism last summer a year ago,” said the rat. “I had the
rheumatism so bad I ran a thousand miles south and west till I came to
the Egg Towns and stopped in the Village of Eggs Up.”
“So?” quizzed the Potato Face.
“There in the Village of Eggs Up, they asked me, ‘Do you know how to
stop the moon moving?’ I answered them, ‘Yes, I know how—a baby
alligator told me—but I told the baby alligator I wouldn’t tell.’
“Many years ago there in that Village of Eggs Up they started making a
skyscraper to go up till it reached the moon. They said, ‘We will step
in the elevator and go up to the roof and sit on the roof and eat supper
on the moon.’
“The bricklayers and the mortar men and the iron riveters and the
wheelbarrowers and the plasterers went higher and higher making that
skyscraper, till at last they were half way up to the moon, saying to
each other while they worked, ‘We will step in the elevator and go up to
the roof and sit on the roof and eat supper on the moon.’
“Yes, they were halfway up to the moon. And that night looking at the
moon they saw it move and they said to each other, ‘We must stop the
moon moving,’ and they said later, ‘We don’t know how to stop the moon
moving.’
“And the bricklayers and the mortar men and the iron riveters and the
wheelbarrowers and the plasterers said to each other, ‘If we go on now
and make this skyscraper it will miss the moon and we will never go up
in the elevator and sit on the roof and eat supper on the moon.’
“So they took the skyscraper down and started making it over again,
aiming it straight at the moon again. And one night standing looking at
the moon they saw it move and they said to each other, ‘We must stop the
moon moving,’ saying later to each other, ‘We don’t know how to stop the
moon moving.’
“And now they stand in the streets at night there in the Village of Eggs
Up, stretching their necks looking at the moon, and asking each other,
‘Why does the moon move and how can we stop the moon moving?’
“Whenever I saw them standing there stretching their necks looking at
the moon, I had a zig-zag ache in my left hind foot and I wanted to tell
them what the baby alligator told me, the secret of how to stop the moon
moving. One night that ache zig-zagged me so—way inside my left hind
foot—it zig-zagged so I ran home here a thousand miles.”
The Potato Face Blind Man wriggled his shoe—and the green rat
wriggled—and the long white swipe from the end of the nose to the end of
the tail of the green rat wriggled.
“Is your rheumatism better?” the old man asked.
The rat answered, “Any rheumatism is better if you run a thousand miles
twice.”
And Blixie Bimber going home with the fifteen cent hash hatchet for her
mother to chop hash, Blixie said to herself, “It is a large morning to
be thoughtful about.”
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Slipfoot and How He Nearly Always Never Gets What He Goes After
Blixie Bimber flipped out of the kitchen one morning, first saying
good-by to the dish-pan, good-by to the dish-rag, good-by to the
dish-towel for wiping dishes.
Under one arm she put a basket of peonies she picked, under the other
arm she put a basket of jonquils she picked.
Then she flipped away up the street and downtown where she put the
baskets of peonies and jonquils one on each side of the Potato Face
Blind Man.
“I picked the pink and lavender peonies and I picked the yellow jonquils
for you to be smelling one on each side of you this fine early summer
morning,” she said to the Potato Face. “Have you seen anybody good to
see lately?”
“Slipfoot was here this morning,” said the old man.
“And who is Slipfoot?” asked Blixie.
“I don’t know. He says to me, ‘I got a foot always slips. I used to wash
windows—and my foot slips. I used to be king of the collar buttons, king
of a million dollars—and my foot slips. I used to be king of the
peanuts, king of a million dollars again. I used to be king of the
oyster cans, selling a million cans a day. I used to be king of the
peanut sacks, selling ten million sacks a day. And every time I was a
king my foot slips. Every time I had a million dollars my foot slips.
Every time I went high and put my foot higher my foot slips. Somebody
gave me a slipfoot. I always slip.’”
[Illustration: On the last step of the stairway my foot slips]
“So you call him Slipfoot?” asked Blixie.
“Yes,” said the old man.
“Has he been here before?”
“Yes, he was here a year ago, saying, ‘I marry a woman and she runs
away. I run after her—and my foot slips. I always get what I want—and
then my foot slips.’
“I ran up a stairway to the moon one night. I shoveled a big sack full
of little gold beans, little gold bricks, little gold bugs, on the moon
and I ran down the stairway from the moon. On the last step of the
stairway, my foot slips—and all the little gold beans, all the little
gold bricks, all the little gold bugs, spill out and spill away. When I
get down the stairway I am holding the sack and the sack holds nothing.
I am all right always till my foot slips.
“I jump on a trapeze and I go swinging, swinging, swinging out where I
am going to take hold of the rainbow and bring it down where we can look
at it close. And I hang by my feet on the trapeze and I am swinging out
where I am just ready to take hold of the rainbow and bring it down.
Then my foot slips.”
“What is the matter with Slipfoot?” asks Blixie.
“He asks me that same question,” answered the Potato Face Blind Man. “He
asks me that every time he comes here. I tell him all he needs is to get
his slipfoot fixed so it won’t slip. Then he’ll be all right.”
“I understand you,” said Blixie. “You make it easy. You always make it
easy. And before I run away will you promise me to smell of the pink and
lavender peonies and the yellow jonquils all day to-day?”
“I promise,” said the Potato Face. “Promises are easy. I like promises.”
“So do I,” said the little girl, “It’s promises pushing me back home to
the dish-pan, the dish-rag, and the dish-towel for wiping dishes.”
“Look out you don’t get a slipfoot,” warned the old man as the girl
flipped up the street going home.
[Illustration]
2. Two Stories About Bugs and Eggs.
_People_: Little Bugs
Big Bugs
The Rag Doll
The Broom Handle
Hammer and Nails
The Hot Cookie Pan
The Ice Tongs
The Coal Bucket
The Bushel Basket
Jack Knife
Kindling Wood
Splinters
Shush Shush
The Postmaster
The Hardware Man
The Policeman
The Postmaster’s Hat
A Buff Banty Egg
[Illustration]
Many, Many Weddings in One Corner House
There was a corner house with corners every way it looked. And up in the
corners were bugs with little bug houses, bug doors to open, bug windows
to look out of.
In the summer time if the evening was cool or in the winter time if the
evening was warm, they played games—bugs-up, bugs-down, run-bugs-run,
beans-bugs-beans.
This corner house was the place the Rag Doll and the Broom Handle came
to after their wedding. This was the same time those old people, Hammer
and Nails, moved into the corner house with all the little Hammers and
all the little Nails.
So there they were, the young couple, the Rag Doll and the Broom Handle,
and that old family, Hammer and Nails, and up in the corners among the
eave troughs and the roof shingles, the bugs with little bug houses, bug
doors to open, bug windows to look out of, and bug games—bugs-up,
bugs-down, run-bugs-run, or beans-bugs-beans.
Around the corner of the house every Saturday morning came the Hot
Cookie Pan with a pan of hot cookies for Sunday, Monday, Tuesday,
Wednesday and the rest of the week.
The Ice Tongs came with ice, the Coal Bucket came with coal, the Potato
Sack came with potatoes. And the Bushel Basket was always going or
coming and saying under his breath, “_Bushels, bushels, bushels_.”
[Illustration: The Hot Cookie Pan came with a pan of hot cookies and the
Coal Bucket with coal]
One day the bugs in the little bug houses opened the bug doors and
looked out of the bug windows and said to each other, “They are washing
their shirts and sewing on buttons—there is going to be a wedding.”
And the next day the bugs said, “They are going to have a wedding and a
wedding breakfast for Jack Knife and Kindling Wood. They are asking
everybody in the kitchen, the cellar, and the back yard, to come.”
The wedding day came. The people came. From all over the kitchen, the
cellar, the back yard, they came. The Rag Doll and the Broom Handle were
there. Hammer and Nails and all the little Hammers and all the little
Nails were there. The Ice Tongs, the Coal Bucket, the Potato Sack, were
all there—and the Bushel Basket going and coming and saying under his
breath, “_Bushels, bushels, bushels_.” And, of course, the Hot Cookie
Pan was there hopping up and down with hot cookies.
So Jack Knife and Kindling Wood began living in the corner house. A
child came. They named her Splinters. And the Hot Cookie Pan and
Splinters met and kissed each other and sat together in cozy corners
close to each other.
And the bugs high up in the corners in the little bug houses, they
opened the bug doors, looked out of the bug windows and said, “They are
washing their shirts and sewing on buttons, there is a wedding again—the
Hot Cookie Pan and Splinters.”
And now they have many, many children, the Hot Cookie Pan and Splinters.
Their children have gone all over the world and everybody knows them.
“Whenever you find a splinter or a sliver or a shiny little shaving of
wood in a hot cookie,” the bugs in the little bug houses say, “whenever
you find a splinter or a sliver or a shiny little shaving of wood in a
hot cookie, it is the child of the Hot Cookie Pan and the girl named
Splinters, the daughter of Jack Knife and Kindling Wood, who grew up and
married the Hot Cookie Pan.”
And sometimes if a little bug asks a big bug a queer, quivvical,
quizzical question hard to answer, the big bug opens a bug door, looks
out of a bug window and says to the little bug, “If you don’t believe
what we tell you, go and ask Hammer and Nails or any of the little
Hammers and Nails. Then run and listen to the Bushel Basket going and
coming and saying under his breath, ‘_Bushels, bushels, bushels_.’”
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Shush Shush, the Big Buff Banty Hen Who Laid an Egg in the Postmaster’s
Hat
Shush Shush was a big buff banty hen. She lived in a coop. Sometimes she
marched out of the coop and went away and laid eggs. But always she came
back to the coop.
And whenever she went to the front door and laid an egg in the
door-bell, she rang the bell once for one egg, twice for two eggs, and a
dozen rings for a dozen eggs.
Once Shush Shush went into the house of the Sniggers family and laid an
egg in the piano. Another time she climbed up in the clock and laid an
egg in the clock. But always she came back to the coop.
One summer morning Shush Shush marched out through the front gate, up to
the next corner and the next, till she came to the postoffice. There she
walked into the office of the postmaster and laid an egg in the
postmaster’s hat.
The postmaster put on his hat, went to the hardware store and bought a
keg of nails. He took off his hat and the egg dropped into the keg of
nails.
The hardware man picked up the egg, put it in _his_ hat, and went out to
speak to a policeman. He took off his hat, speaking to the policeman,
and the egg dropped on the sidewalk.
The policeman picked up the egg and put it in his police hat. The
postmaster came past; the policeman took off his police hat and the egg
dropped down on the sidewalk.
The postmaster said, “I lost that egg, it is my egg,” picked it up, put
it in his postmaster’s hat, and forgot all about having an egg in his
hat.
Then the postmaster, a long tall man, came to the door of the
postoffice, a short small door. And the postmaster didn’t stoop low,
didn’t bend under, so he bumped his hat and his head on the top of the
doorway. And the egg _broke_ and ran down over his face and neck.
And long before that happened, Shush Shush was home in her coop,
standing in the door saying, “It is a big day for me because I laid one
of my big buff banty eggs in the postmaster’s hat.”
There Shush Shush stays, living in a coop. Sometimes she marches out of
the coop and goes away and lays eggs in pianos, clocks, hats. But she
always comes back to the coop.
And whenever she goes to the front door and lays an egg in the
door-bell, she rings the bell once for one egg, twice for two eggs, and
a dozen rings for a dozen eggs.
[Illustration]
3. Five Stories About Hatrack the Horse, Six Pigeons, Three Wild
Babylonian Baboons, Six Umbrellas, Bozo the Button Buster.
_People_: Hatrack the Horse
Peter Potato Blossom Wishes
Rag Bag Mammy
Gimmes
Wiffle the Chick
Chickamauga
Chattanooga
Chattahoochee
Blue Mist
Bubbles
Wednesday Evening in the Twilight and the Gloaming
Telegrams
The Three Wild Babylonian Baboons
Three Umbrellas
The Night Policeman
Six Umbrellas
The Big Umbrella
Straw Hats
Dippy the Wisp
Bozo the Button Buster
A Mouse
Deep Red Roses
The Beans Are Burning
Sweeter Than the Bees Humming
[Illustration]
How Rag Bag Mammy Kept Her Secret While the Wind Blew Away the Village
of Hat Pins
There was a horse-face man in the Village of Cream Puffs. People called
him Hatrack the Horse.
The skin stretched tight over his bones. Once a little girl said, “His
eyes look like lightning bugs lighting up the summer night coming out of
two little doors.”
When Hatrack the Horse took _off_ his hat he reached his hand around
behind and hung the hat _on_ a shoulder bone sticking out.
When he wanted to put _on_ his hat he reached his hand around and took
it _off_ from where it was hanging on the shoulder bone sticking out
behind.
One summer Hatrack said to Peter Potato Blossom Wishes, “I am going away
up north and west in the Rootabaga Country to see the towns different
from each other. Then I will come back east as far as I went west, and
south as far as I went north, till I am back again where my little pal,
Peter Potato Blossom Wishes, lives in the Village of Cream Puffs.”
So he went away, going north and west and coming back east and south
till he was back again in his home town, sitting on the front steps of
his little red shanty, fixing a kite to fly.
“Are you glad to come back?” asked Peter.
“Yes, this is home, this is the only place where I know how the winds
act up so I can talk to them when I fly a kite.”
“Tell me what you saw and how you listened and if they handed you any
nice packages.”
“They handed me packages, all right, all right,” said Hatrack the Horse.
“Away far to the west I came to the Village of Hat Pins,” he went on.
“It is the place where they make all the hat pins for the hats to be
pinned on in the Rootabaga Country. They asked me about the Village of
Cream Puffs and how the winds are here because the winds here blow so
many hats off that the Village of Hat Pins sells more hat pins to the
people here than anywhere else.
“There is an old woman in the Village of Hat Pins. She walks across the
town and around the town every morning and every afternoon. On her back
is a big rag bag. She never takes anything out of the rag bag. She never
puts anything in. That is, nobody ever sees her put anything in or take
anything out. She has never opened the rag bag telling people to take a
look and see what is in it. She sleeps with the rag bag for a pillow. So
it is always with her and nobody looks into it unless she lets them. And
she never lets them.
“Her name? Everybody calls her Rag Bag Mammy. She wears aprons with big
pockets. And though she never speaks to big grown-up people she is
always glad to meet little growing people, boys and girls. And
especially, most of all, she likes to meet boys and girls who say,
‘Gimme’ (once, like that) or ‘Gimme, gimme’ (twice, like that) or
‘Gimme, gimme, gimme’ (three times) or ‘Gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme,
gimme, gimme’ (more times than we can count). She likes to meet the
gimmes because she digs into her pockets and brings out square chocolate
drops and round chocolate drops and chocolate drops shaped like a half
moon, barber pole candy with red and white stripes wrapped around it,
all day suckers so long they last not only all day but all this week and
all next week, and different kinds of jackstones, some that say
chink-chink on the sidewalks and some that say teentsy-weentsy
chink-chink when they all bunch together on the sidewalk. And sometimes
if one of the gimmes is crying and feeling bad she gives the gimme a
doll only as big as a child’s hand but the doll can say the alphabet and
sing little Chinese Assyrian songs.
“Of course,” said Hatrack the Horse, reaching his hand around to see if
his hat was hanging on behind, “of course, you have to have sharp ears
and listen close-up and be nice when you are listening, if you are going
to hear a doll say the alphabet and sing little Chinese Assyrian songs.”
“I could hear them,” said Peter Potato Blossom Wishes. “I am a nice
listener. I could hear those dolls sing the little Chinese Assyrian
songs.”
“I believe you, little pal of mine,” said Hatrack. “I know you have the
ears and you know how to put your ears so you hear.”
“Of course, every morning and every afternoon when Rag Bag Mammy walks
across the town and around the town in the Village of Hat Pins, people
ask her what is in the rag bag on her back. And she answers, ‘It is a
nice day we are having,’ or ‘I think the rain will stop when it stops
raining, don’t you?’ Then if they ask again and beg and plead, ‘_What_
is in the rag bag? What _is_ in the rag bag?’ she tells them, ‘When the
wind blows away the Village of Hat Pins and blows it so far away it
never comes back, then—then, then, then—I will tell you what is in the
rag bag.’”
“One day the wind came along and blew the Village of Hat Pins loose, and
after blowing it loose, carried it high off in the sky. And the people
were saying to each other, ‘Well, now we are going to hear Rag Bag Mammy
tell us what is in the rag bag.’
“And the wind kept blowing, carrying the Village of Hat Pins higher and
farther and farther and higher. And when at last it went away so high it
came to a white cloud, the hat pins in the village all stuck out and
fastened the village to the cloud so the wind couldn’t blow it any
farther.
“And—after a while they pulled the hatpins out of the cloud—and the
village dropped back right down where it was before.
“And Rag Bag Mammy goes every morning and every afternoon with the rag
bag on her back across and around the town. And sometimes people say to
her, ‘The next time the wind blows us away—the next time the wind will
blow us so far there won’t be any cloud to fasten hat pins in—and you
will have to tell us what is in the rag bag.’ And Rag Bag Mammy just
answers, ‘Yes, yes—yes—yes,’ and goes on her way looking for the next
boy or girl to say, ‘Gimme’ (once, like that) or ‘Gimme, gimme’ (twice,
like that) or ‘Gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme’ (more times than we
can count).
“And if a child is crying she digs into her pockets and pulls out the
doll that says the alphabet and sings little Chinese Assyrian songs.”
“And,” said Peter Potato Blossom Wishes, “you have to listen close up
with your ears and be nice when you are listening.”
“In the Village of Hat Pins that the wind nearly blew away forever,”
said Hatrack the Horse.
And Peter Potato Blossom Wishes skipped away down from the little red
shanty, skipped down the street, and then began walking slow saying to
herself, “I love Hatrack the Horse like a grand uncle—his eyes look like
lightning bugs lighting up the summer night coming out of two little
doors.”
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
How Six Pigeons Came Back to Hatrack the Horse After Many Accidents and
Six Telegrams
Six crooked ladders stood against the front of the shanty where Hatrack
the Horse lived.
Yellow roses all on fire were climbing up and down the ladders, up and
down and crossways.
And leaning out on both sides from the crooked ladders were vines of
yellow roses, leaning, curving, nearly falling.
Hatrack the Horse was waiting. This was the morning Wiffle the Chick was
coming.
“Sit here on the cracker box and listen,” he said to her when she
came; “listen and you will hear the roses saying, ‘This is climbing
time for all yellow roses and climbing time is the time to climb; how
did we ever learn to climb only by climbing? Listen and you will
hear—st..th..st..th..st..th..it is the feet of the yellow roses
climbing up and down and leaning out and curving and nearly falling
..st..th..st..th..’”
So Wiffle the Chick sat there, early in the summer, enjoying herself,
sitting on a cracker box, listening to the yellow roses climb around the
six crooked ladders.
Hatrack the Horse came out. On his shoulders were two pigeons, on his
hands two pigeons. And he reached his hand around behind his back where
his hat was hanging and he opened the hat and showed Wiffle the Chick
two pigeons in the hat.
“They are lovely pigeons to look at and their eyes are full of lessons
to learn,” said Wiffle the Chick. “Maybe you will tell me why you have
their feet wrapped in bandages, hospital liniment bandages full of
hospital liniment smells? Why do you put soft mittens on the feet of
these pigeons so lovely to look at?”
“They came back yesterday, they came back home,” was the answer. “They
came back limping on their feet with the toes turned in so far they
nearly turned backward. When they put their bleeding feet in my hands
one by one each one, it was like each one was writing his name in my
hand with red ink.”
“Did you know they were coming?” asked Wiffle.
“Every day the last six days I get a telegram, six telegrams from six
pigeons—and at last they come home. And ever since they come home they
are telling me they come because they love Hatrack the Horse and the
yellow climbing roses climbing over the six crooked ladders.”
“Did you name your pigeons with names?” asked Wiffle.
“These three, the sandy and golden brown, all named themselves by where
they came from. This is Chickamauga, here is Chattanooga, and this is
Chattahoochee. And the other three all got their names from me when I
was feeling high and easy. This is Blue Mist, here is Bubbles, and last
of all take a look at Wednesday Evening in the Twilight and the
Gloaming.”
“Do you always call her Wednesday Evening in the Twilight and the
Gloaming?”
“Not when I am making coffee for breakfast. If I am making coffee for
breakfast then I just call her Wednesday Evening.”
“Didn’t you tie the mittens on her feet extra special nice?”
“Yes—she is an extra special nice pigeon. She cries for pity when she
wants pity. And she shuts her eyes when she doesn’t want to look at you.
And if you look deep in her eyes when her eyes are open you will see
lights there exactly like the lights on the pastures and the meadows
when the mist is drifting on a Wednesday evening just between the
twilight and the gloaming.
“A week ago yesterday they all went away. And they won’t tell why they
went away. Somebody clipped their wings, cut off their flying feathers
so they couldn’t fly—and they won’t tell why. They were six hundred
miles from home—but they won’t tell how they counted the six hundred
miles. A hundred miles a day they walked, six hundred miles in a week,
and they sent a telegram to me every day, one writing a telegram one day
and another writing a telegram the next day—all the time walking a
hundred miles a day with their toes turned in like pigeon toes turn in.
Do you wonder they needed bandages, hospital liniment bandages on their
feet—and soft mittens?”
“Show me the telegrams they sent you, one every day, for six days while
they were walking six hundred miles on their pigeon toes.”
So Hatrack the Horse got the six telegrams. The reading on the telegrams
was like this:
1. “Feet are as good as wings if you have to. CHICKAMAUGA.”
2. “If you love to go somewhere it is easy to walk. CHATTANOOGA.”
3. “In the night sleeping you forget whether you have wings or feet or
neither. CHATTAHOOCHEE.”
4. “What are toes for if they don’t point to what you want? BLUE MIST.”
5. “Anybody can walk hundreds of miles putting one foot ahead of the
other. BUBBLES.”
6. “Pity me. Far is far. Near is near. And there is no place like home
when the yellow roses climb up the ladders and sing in the early summer.
Pity me. WEDNESDAY EVENING IN THE TWILIGHT AND THE GLOAMING.”
“Did they have any accidents going six hundred miles walking with their
little pigeon toes turned in?” asked Wiffle.
“Once they had an accident,” said Hatrack, with Chattahoochee standing
in his hat, Chickamauga on his right shoulder, Chattanooga on his left,
and holding Blue Mist and Bubbles on his wrists. “They came to an old
wooden bridge. Chattahoochee and Wednesday Evening both cried out, ‘The
bridge will fall if we all walk on it the same time!’ But they were all
six already on the bridge and the bridge began sagging and tumbled them
all into the river. But it was good for them all to have a footbath for
their feet, Wednesday Evening explained.”
“I got a suspicion you like Wednesday Evening in the Twilight and the
Gloaming best of all,” spoke up Wiffle.
“Well, Wednesday Evening was the only one I noticed making any mention
of the yellow roses in her telegram,” Hatrack the Horse explained, as he
picked up Wednesday Evening and reached her around and put her to perch
on the shoulder bone on his back.
Then the old man and the girl sat on the cracker box saying nothing,
only listening to the yellow roses all on fire with early summer
climbing up the crooked ladders, up and down and crossways, some of them
leaning out and curving and nearly falling.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
How the Three Wild Babylonian Baboons Went Away in the Rain Eating Bread
and Butter
One morning when Hatrack the Horse went away from his shanty, he put
three umbrellas in the corner next to the front door.
His pointing finger pointed at the three umbrellas as he said, “If the
three wild Babylonian Baboons come sneaking up to this shanty and
sneaking through the door and sneaking through the house, then all you
three umbrellas open up like it was raining, jump straight at the
baboons and fasten your handles in their hands. Then, all three of you
stay open as if it was raining—and hold those handles in the hands of
the baboons and never let go till I come.”
Hatrack the Horse went away. The three umbrellas stood in the corner
next to the front door. And when the umbrellas listened they could hear
the three wild Babylonian Baboons sneaking up to the shanty. Soon the
baboons, all hairy all over, bangs down their foreheads, came sneaking
through the door. Just as they were sneaking through the door they took
off their hats to show they were getting ready to sneak through the
house.
Then the three umbrellas in the corner opened up as if it was raining;
they jumped straight at the three wild Babylonian Baboons; and they
fastened their handles tight in the hands of the baboons and wouldn’t
let go.
So there were the three wild Babylonian Baboons, each with a hat in his
left hand, and an open umbrella in his right hand.
When Hatrack the Horse came home he came, quiet. He opened the front
door, quiet. Then he looked around inside the house, quiet.
In the corner where he had stood the three umbrellas, he saw the three
wild Babylonian Baboons on the floor, sleeping, with umbrellas over
their faces.
“The umbrellas were so big they couldn’t get through the door,” said
Hatrack the Horse. For a long time he stood looking at the bangs hanging
down the foreheads of the baboons while they were sleeping. He took a
comb and combed the bangs down the foreheads of the baboons. He went to
the cupboard and spread bread and butter. He took the hats out of the
left hands of the baboons and put the hats on their heads. He put a
piece of bread and butter in the hand of each baboon.
After that he snipped each one across the nose with his finger
(_snippety-snip!_ just like that). They opened their eyes and stood up.
Then he loosened the umbrella handles from their right hands and led
them to the door.
They all looked out. It was raining. “Now you can go,” he told the
baboons. And they all walked out of the front door, and they seemed to
be snickering and hiding the snickers.
The last he saw of them they were walking away in the rain eating bread
and butter. And they took off their hats so the rain ran down and slid
off on the bangs of their foreheads.
Hatrack the Horse turned to the umbrellas and said, “We know how to make
a surprise party when we get a visit from the Babylonian Baboons with
their bangs falling down their foreheads—don’t we?”
That is what happened, as Hatrack the Horse told it to the night
policeman in the Village of Cream Puffs.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
How Six Umbrellas Took Off Their Straw Hats to Show Respect to the One
Big Umbrella
Wherever Dippy the Wisp went she was always changing hats. She carried
two hat boxes with big picture hats on her _right_ arm. And she carried
two hat boxes with big picture hats on her _left_ arm. And she changed
from green and gold hats to purple and gray hats and then back to green
and gold whenever she felt like it.
Now the hill that runs down from the shanty of Hatrack the Horse toward
the Village of Cream Puffs is a long, long hill. And one morning the old
man sat watching and away down at the bottom of the long, long hill he
saw four hat boxes. Somebody was coming to call on him. And he knew it
was Dippy the Wisp.
The hat boxes came up the hill. He saw them stop once, stop twice, stop
more times. So he knew Dippy the Wisp was changing hats, changing from
green and gold to purple and gray and then back to green and gold.
When at last she got to the top of the hill and came to the shanty of
Hatrack the Horse, she said to him, “Make up a story and tell me. Make
up the story about umbrellas. You have traveled all over the Rootabaga
Country, you have seen so many umbrellas, and such wonderful umbrellas.
Make me up a big elegant story about umbrellas.”
So Hatrack the Horse took his hat _off_ his head, reached around and
hung it _on_ one of the shoulder bones sticking out behind on his back.
And the old man looked with a faraway look down the long, long hill
running from his shanty toward the Village of Cream Puffs. Then he told
her this story:
One summer afternoon I came home and found all the umbrellas sitting in
the kitchen, with straw hats on, telling each other who they are.
The umbrella that feeds the fishes fresh buns every morning stood up and
said, “I am the umbrella that feeds the fishes fresh buns every
morning.”
The umbrella that fixes the clocks free of charge stood up and said, “I
am the umbrella that fixes the clocks free of charge.”
The umbrella that peels the potatoes with a pencil and makes a pink ink
with the peelings, stood up and said, “I am the umbrella that peels the
potatoes with a pencil and makes a pink ink with the peelings.”
The umbrella that eats the rats with pepper and salt and a clean napkin
every morning, stood up and said, “I am the umbrella that eats the rats
with pepper and salt and a clean napkin every morning.”
The umbrella that washes the dishes with a wiper and wipes the dishes
with a washer every morning stood up and said, “I am the umbrella that
washes the dishes with a wiper and wipes the dishes with a washer every
morning.”
The umbrella that covers the chimney with a dish-pan before it rains
stood up and said, “I am the umbrella that covers the chimney with a
dish-pan before it rains.”
The umbrella that runs to the corner to get corners for the
handkerchiefs stood up and said, “I am the umbrella that runs to the
corner to get corners for the handkerchiefs.”
Now while the umbrellas are all sitting in the kitchen with their straw
hats on telling each other who they are, there comes a big black
stranger of an umbrella, walking into the kitchen without opening the
door, walking in without knocking, without asking anybody, without
telling anybody beforehand.
“Since we are telling each other who we are,” said the stranger, “since
we are telling each other who we are, I am going to tell you who I am.
“I am the umbrella that holds up the sky. I am the umbrella the rain
comes through. I am the umbrella that tells the sky when to begin
raining and when to stop raining.
“I am the umbrella that goes to pieces when the wind blows and then puts
itself together again when the wind goes down. I am the first umbrella,
the last umbrella, the one and only umbrella all other umbrellas are
named after, first, last and always.”
When the stranger finished this speech telling who he was and where he
came from, all the other umbrellas sat still for a little while, to be
respectful.
Then they all got up, took off their straw hats, walked up to the
stranger and laid those straw hats at his feet. They wanted to show him
they had respect for him. Then they all walked out, first the umbrella
that feeds the fishes fresh buns every morning, then the umbrella that
fixes the clocks free of charge, then the umbrella that peels the
potatoes with a pencil and makes pink ink with the peelings, then the
umbrella that eats the rats with pepper and salt and a clean napkin,
then the umbrella that washes the dishes with a wiper and wipes the
dishes with a washer, then the umbrella that covers the chimney with a
dish-pan before it rains, then the umbrella that runs to the corner to
get corners for the handkerchiefs. They all laid their straw hats at the
feet of the stranger because he came without knocking or telling anybody
beforehand and because he said he is the umbrella that holds up the sky,
that big umbrella the rain goes through first of all, the first and the
last umbrella.
That was the way Hatrack the Horse finished his story for Dippy the
Wisp. She was changing hats, getting ready to go.
The old man put his loose bony arms around her and kissed her for a
good-by. And she put her little dimpled arms around his neck and kissed
him for a good-by.
And the last he saw of her that day she was walking far away down at the
bottom of the long, long hill that stretches from Hatrack’s shanty
toward the Village of Cream Puffs.
And twice going down the long hill she stopped and changed hats, opening
and shutting the hat boxes, and changing hats from green and gold to
purple and gray and back to green and gold.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
How Bozo the Button Buster Busted All His Buttons When a Mouse Came
One summer evening the stars in the summer sky seemed to be moving with
fishes, cats and rabbits.
It was that summer evening three girls came to the shanty of Hatrack the
Horse. He asked each one, “What is your name?” And they answered, first,
“Me? My name is Deep Red Roses”; second, “Me? My name is The Beans are
Burning”; and last of all, “Me? My name is Sweeter Than the Bees
Humming.”
And the old man fastened a yellow rose for luck in the hair of each one
and said, “You ought to be home now.”
“After you tell us a story,” they reminded him.
“I can only tell you a sad story all mixed up to-night,” he reminded
them, “because all day to-day I have been thinking about Bozo the Button
Buster.”
“Tell us about Bozo the Button Buster,” said the girls, feeling in their
hair and fixing the yellow roses.
The old man sat down on the front steps. His eyes swept away off toward
a corner of the sky heavy with mist where it seemed to be moving with
firetails, fishes, cats, and rabbits of slow changing stars.
“Bozo had buttons all over him,” said the old man, “the buttons on Bozo
fitted so tight, and there were so many buttons, that sometimes when he
took his lungs full of new wind to go on talking a button would bust
loose and fly into the face of whoever he was speaking to. Sometimes
when he took new wind into his lungs two buttons would bust loose and
fly into the faces of two people he was speaking to.
“So people said, ‘Isn’t it queer how buttons fly loose when Bozo fills
his lungs with wind to go on speaking?’ After a while everybody called
him Bozo the Button Buster.
“Now, you must understand, Bozo was different from other people. He had
a string tied to him. It was a long string hanging down with a knot in
the end. He used to say, ‘Sometimes I forget where I am; then I feel for
the string tied to me, and I follow the string to where it is tied to
me; then I know where I am again.’
“Sometimes when Bozo was speaking and a button busted loose, he would
ask, ‘Was that a mouse? Was that a mouse?’ And sometimes he said to
people, ‘I’ll talk with you—_if you haven’t got a mouse in your
pocket_.’
“The last day Bozo ever came to the Village of Cream Puffs, he stood on
the public square and he was all covered with buttons, more buttons than
ever before, and all the buttons fitting tight, and five, six buttons
busting loose and flying into the air whenever he took his lungs full of
wind to go on speaking.
“‘When the sky began to fall who was it ran out and held up the sky?’ he
sang out. ‘It was me, it was me ran out and held up the sky when the sky
began to fall.’
“‘When the blue came off the sky, where did they get the blue to put on
the sky to make it blue again? It was me, it was me picked the bluebirds
and the blue pigeons to get the blue to fix the sky.’
“‘When it rains now it rains umbrellas first so everybody has an
umbrella for the rain afterward. Who fixed that? I did—Bozo the Button
Buster.’
“‘Who took the rainbow off the sky and put it back again in a hurry?
That was me.’
[Illustration: The mouse bit the knot and cut it loose]
“‘Who turned all the barns upside down and then put them right side up
again? I did that.’
“‘Who took the salt out of the sea and put it back again? Who took the
fishes out of the sea and put them back again? That was me.’
“‘Who started the catfish fighting the cats? Who made the slippery elms
slippery? Who made the King of the Broken Bottles a wanderer wandering
over the world mumbling, “Easy, easy”? Who opened the windows of the
stars and threw fishes, cats and rabbits all over the frames of the sky?
I did, I did, I did.’
“All the time Bozo kept on speaking the buttons kept on busting because
he had to stop so often to fill his lungs with new wind to go on
speaking. The public square was filled with piles of buttons that kept
busting off from Bozo the Button Buster that day.
“And at last a mouse came, a sneaking, slippery, quick little mouse. He
ran with a flash to the string tied to Bozo, the long string hanging
down with a knot in the end. He bit the knot and cut it loose. He slit
the string with his teeth as Bozo cried, ‘Ai! Ai! Ai!’
“The last of all the buttons busted loose off Bozo. The clothes fell
off. The people came up to see what was happening to Bozo. There was
nothing in the clothes. The man inside the clothes was gone. All that
was left was buttons and a few clothes.
“Since then whenever it rains umbrellas first so everybody has an
umbrella for the rain afterward, or if the sky looks like it is falling,
or if a barn turns upside down, or if the King of the Broken Bottles
comes along mumbling ‘Easy, easy,’ or if firetails, fishes, cats and
rabbits come on the sky in the night, or if a button busts loose and
flies into somebody’s face, people remember Bozo the Button Buster.”
When the three girls started home, each one said to Hatrack the Horse,
“It looks dark and lonesome on the prairie, but you put a yellow rose in
my hair for luck—and I won’t be scared after I get home.”
[Illustration]
4. Two Stories About Four Boys Who Had Different Dreams.
_People_: Googler
Gaggler
Twins
The Family Doctor
The Father of the Twins
The Mother of the Twins
Pen Wipers and Pencil Sharpeners
Smokestacks and Monkey Wrenches
Monkey Faces on the Monkey Wrenches
Left-Handed Monkey Wrenches
Potato Face Blind Man
Ax Me No Questions
Johnny the Wham
Joe the Wimp
Grasshoppers
Thousand Dollar Bills
Brass Doors
Lizzie Lazarus
[Illustration]
How Googler and Gaggler, the Two Christmas Babies, Came Home with Monkey
Wrenches
1
Two babies came one night in snowstorm weather, came to a tar paper
shack on a cinder patch next the railroad yards on the edge of the
Village of Liver-and-Onions.
The family doctor came that night, came with a bird of a spizz car
throwing a big spotlight of a headlight through the snow of the
snowstorm on the prairie.
“Twins,” said the doctor. “Twins,” said the father and mother. And the
wind as it shook the tar paper shack and shook the doors and the
padlocks on the doors of the tar paper shack, the wind seemed to be
howling softly, “Twins, twins.”
Six days and Christmas Eve came. The mother of the twins lit two
candles, two little two-for-a-nickel candles in each little window. And
the mother handed the father the twins and said, “Here are your
Christmas presents.” The father took the two baby boys and laughed,
“Twice times twice is twice.”
The two little two-for-a-nickel candles sputtered in each little window
that Christmas Eve, and at last sputtered and went out, leaving the
prairies dark and lonesome. The father and the mother of the twins sat
by the window, each one holding a baby.
Every once in a while they changed babies so as to hold a different
twin. And every time they changed they laughed at each other, “Twice
times twice is twice.”
One baby was called Googler, the other Gaggler. The two boys grew up,
and hair came on their bald red heads. Their ears, wet behind, got dry.
They learned how to pull on their stockings and shoes and tie their
shoestrings. They learned at last how to take a handkerchief and hold it
open and blow their noses.
Their father looked at them growing up and said, “I think you’ll make a
couple of peanut-wagon men pouring hot butter into popcorn sacks.”
The family doctor saw the rashes and the itches and the measles and the
whooping cough come along one year and another. He saw the husky Googler
and the husky Gaggler throw off the rashes and the itches and the
measles and the whooping cough. And the family doctor said, “They will
go far and see much, and they will never be any good for sitting with
the sitters and knitting with the knitters.”
Googler and Gaggler grew up and turned handsprings going to school in
short pants, whistling with school books under their arms. They went
barefooted and got stickers in their hair and teased cats and killed
snakes and climbed apple trees and threw clubs up walnut trees and
chewed slippery ellum. They stubbed their toes and cut their feet on
broken bottles and went swimming in brickyard ponds and came home with
their backs sunburnt so the skin peeled off. And before they went to bed
every night they stood on their heads and turned flip-flops.
One morning early in spring the young frogs were shooting silver spears
of little new songs up into the sky. Strips of fresh young grass were
beginning to flick the hills and spot the prairie with flicks and spots
of new green. On that morning, Googler and Gaggler went to school with
fun and danger and dreams in their eyes.