The country of the Menial People lay white and frozen under its blanket
of snow when Toots and the Princess next visited it. They stood before
the cage of the lion cubs on the morning of the first snowfall of the
year.
"By my claws and teeth, all the earth is white!" exclaimed the largest
of the cubs, as he looked through his barred window.
"The world must be coming to an end," said a shivering puma, curling up
in the farthest corner of his cage.
"Ho, there, Sultan!" cried out one of the young tigers; "you are old
and full of wisdom, tell us why all the land is white, and why our
teeth chatter so."
Old Sultan rose thereupon, and having walked majestically to the front
of his dwelling, lifted up his voice and said:
[Illustration]
"It is well that you children should know that we are no longer in the
Jungle of our fathers. For some reason, I know not what, we have been
brought captive into the far North, where, ever and anon, the earth
is white, and our hair stands out stiff and harsh. However, I would
counsel you to be patient and calm. The food is wholesome and plenty,
and is laid each day conveniently at our very feet."
"That is indeed so," assented the mother lioness. "It is a great burden
off my mind to know that though my claws grow dull with age, and
my limbs too stiff to leap, you children are still unpursued by the
phantom of hunger unappeased. Therefore, let us be thankful." And she
stretched herself out on the floor of her house, and was soon snoring
comfortably.
The wise counsel of the older lions calmed the cubs somewhat, but
filled them with so much curiosity about the jungle home of their
people that throughout the day they kept those who had been born in
freedom busy answering their questions. Thus it happened that neither
Pwit-Pwit, the sparrow, nor the little Limping Boy--who no longer
limped--could get the attention of Mahmoud or Duchess, mate of the aged
elephant, till toward evening.
In the deepest snow of his yard stood Wapiti, the red deer, with his
head aloft, his great branching antlers thrown back and his nostrils
quivering. Pwit-Pwit flew up and alighted on one of the prongs and
chirped merrily into the deer's ear:
"Glorious fun, this snow, isn't it, old fellow?"
But Wapiti stood sniffing the frosty air and was silent.
"I know what is the matter with you," said the sparrow, "you are trying
to remember something that happened when it was winter in the great
woods where you ran free."
Pwit-Pwit picked at the shreds of skin hanging from Wapiti's antlers,
and at length the deer lowered his head and spoke:
"Go away now," he said, "but come back again. I smell something in the
air that makes me feel like leaping and running with all my speed. The
memory of other days is struggling to return. Just now I thought it
was here. Come back after a little, Pwit-Pwit. Give me time to collect
my thoughts."
With this the sparrow hopped down from the deer's antlers at Toots'
feet, and began fluttering his wings and scolding at him.
"He is talking to you now," said the Princess. "What does he say?"
"He wants us to come with him. Lead the way," said Toots to the
sparrow, "and we will follow wherever you go."
Toots took the Princess' hand and started a few steps, whereat
Pwit-Pwit, with a chirp of satisfaction, flew straight to the den of
the bears. When Toots and the Princess arrived, they found the sparrow
exhibiting signs of disappointment and indignation. The great beasts
were curled up fast asleep and snoring.
"Well, what do you think of that?" demanded the sparrow. "A nice way
to receive visitors, that is. They know that I always come when the sun
shines full in their doorway."
"The snow and the cold have made them sleepy," said Toots.
"Perhaps that is so," answered the sparrow--Toots was translating their
talk for the Princess--"but it is stupid of them, and impolite, and I
won't have it."
With these words the sparrow flew at the eyes of the oldest bear,
pecking away with all his might, and chirping:
"Come, now, will you wake up? You have company for breakfast. Shame
upon you!"
But the old bear simply put his great paws over his eyes and was
presently snoring louder than ever. It was the same with the younger
bears. They had eaten their breakfast, and were determined to sleep.
Pwit-Pwit fluttered out of the bears' den, and fixing his sparkling
eyes on Toots' face, said:
[Illustration]
"I know what we'll do. We'll call on the racoons. They're horrible
little chatterboxes, but they are inclined to be sociable. Besides, I
have been neglecting them of late."
So they went a little farther up the hill to the Racoon House, with its
door looking toward the sun, which is always closed at night. No sound
came from within.
"It is a little late to catch them at breakfast," said the sparrow;
"but they are such greedy people that some of them are sure to be
quarreling over the last morsel."
But, to the intense surprise of Pwit-Pwit, all was silent within the
Racoon House. He hopped in at the door, and presently returned, looking
deeply disgusted.
"Would you believe it?" he said testily. "Every one of those silly
people is snoring louder than the bears. Isn't it disgraceful?"
"They are like the bears," said Toots; "the cold makes them drowsy."
"Well, I shan't go without my breakfast any longer, simply because it
is my duty to carry the early news to people who are too stupid to
listen to it," chirped Pwit-Pwit. "I'm half-starved. Come, we will
call on the old gray rabbit. There is no one so wise as he in all the
Menial World--and he always saves a choice morsel for me, though I must
confess that I prefer the fare of Mahmoud."
It was only a few steps to the snowy hillside where the old gray
rabbit watched over his large family, the youngest of which was
a snow-white great-granddaughter. Without waiting for a special
invitation, Pwit-Pwit took possession of a bread crust, and was pecking
at it greedily, when a wonderful thing happened. The old gray rabbit,
ignoring the sparrow, hopped slowly over to where Toots and the
Princess stood leaning upon the top rail of his yard fence.
"Good morning," said the boy.
[Illustration]
The rabbit stuck one of its ears straight up and allowed the other to
hang down over his cheek, meanwhile moving his flexible lips in the
most extraordinary fashion. Toots laughed aloud and clapped his hands,
saying: "Thank you, Grandpa Rabbit, my crooked leg is cured. This is
the Princess. Her father, who is a great surgeon, made it as straight
as its mate. You can see for yourself."
With perfect confidence in Toots' ability to understand the rabbit
language, the Princess bowed, and then stroked Grandfather Rabbit's
ear. Then he hopped still closer to the fence and made a long speech
with his ears and flexible lips. And this is what he said:
[Illustration: The rabbit stuck one of its ears straight up.]
"Little boy, I rejoice at your good fortune. While your poor leg was
still crooked, and the iron clanked upon it, and you were as thin and
pale as you are now brown and stout, you never neglected me. I always
felt that you understood me and mine better than those great careless
men who come with the bread and the cabbage-leaves, but with never a
word of greeting. Even now, when the ground is white and cold, you
do not forget us. We feel that you are one of us. It is not given to
all of the Menial People to speak as plainly as I do, but you have my
earnest assurance that all have the same feeling of affection toward
you."
While the rabbit was speaking, Pwit-Pwit, having satisfied his hunger,
hopped up beside him, and told him of the disgraceful conduct of the
bears and the racoons.
"I could have told you," answered the rabbit, "that the first snow
would deprive you of all companionship on the part of those people. It
was their custom before being taken into captivity to sleep steadily
through all the freezing weather. My people understood it well, for
then we had only the wildcats, the wolves and the foxes to fear."
"But how could they live so long without eating?" demanded Pwit-Pwit.
"When the weather is cold, my appetite is sharper than ever."
"They lived upon their fat," answered the old gray rabbit. "All the
time the leaves were falling the bears ate grapes and berries in the
forest, until they were so fat they could hardly walk. I remember we
were never afraid of them then, they were so slow and clumsy. It was
the same with the racoons. All night they would steal along the margin
of the river, gorging themselves with clams, fish and young ducks, and
sometimes would go into the fields for the juicy, green corn. So, when
the first snow came, they, too, were almost too fat to walk.
"Then," continued the old gray rabbit, "the bears would crawl into
the farthest corner of their caves, while the racoons would curl up
into furry rings at the ends of their burrows, and there they would
sleep soundly until the warm sun should again melt the snow. All these
things I know well, for it is during the first warm days of spring that
the rabbits are ever on the alert because of the gaunt figures of the
half-starved bears, awakened by their hunger, which then prowl over the
land."
"Ah, now I understand," chirped Pwit-Pwit. "Well, now that the bears
and the racoons care no longer for the news, I shall have more time
than ever to devote to dear old Mahmoud, and to Fatimah and the
hippopotamus baby."
Just then there came a wild bellow from the direction of Wapiti's yard.
[Illustration]
"It's Wapiti," said Pwit-Pwit, much excited. "Come at once. He
remembers."
"If it is the deer you are about to visit," said the rabbit, "I would
warn you that his people are apt to be dangerous when the snow is on
the ground. It is then that they suffer from hunger, and are none too
gentle with their sharp prongs."
But Pwit-Pwit said that he had a perfect understanding with Wapiti,
and flew away, followed by Toots and the Princess, both eager to know
what it was that the red deer had remembered. They found him shaking
his antlers and pawing the snow.
[Illustration]
"Now, I remember," he said. "It was on just such a day as this in the
great forest that my gentle, tender-eyed mate was taken from me. There
were two fierce dogs that sprang at her throat. But this was not until
the iron in the man's hand had spoken, and my mate had fallen to her
knees, with the blood gushing from her mouth. Look, Pwit-Pwit, little
one, do you see that prong, broken short off?"
"Yes," answered the sparrow, eagerly.
The red deer tossed his head savagely, then bellowed fiercely:
"It was with that same prong that I pinned one of the dogs to a tree,
so that he never barked again. I left the prong sticking to his heart."
"Served him right," said Pwit-Pwit. "I can't bear dogs; they're as bad
as cats."
"But my poor mate was dead," continued Wapiti, "and while I was
mourning over her body, the men came and bound me fast with cords. That
is why you find me here."
With that, they took leave of the red deer, and with the sparrow in the
lead, proceeded to the Elephant House.
"By this time," said Toots, "the lion cubs will have ceased their
chatter over the white carpet the heavens laid on the earth in the
night, and we shall be able to get in a word."
Mahmoud and the Duchess stood as near the front of their house as the
chains on their legs would let them, and seemed eager for visitors.
They greeted Pwit-Pwit cordially, stretching out their trunks to him.
The sparrow hopped upon that of Mahmoud, and said:
"Where are your eyes, old friend? Here is the little Limping Boy back
again, and you give him not so much as a flap of your ear in greeting."
"Alas, my eyes give me small service these days," said the elephant;
"yet I would have sworn that the lad who follows you hither with the
little butterfly maiden is stout and brown and well-clad, and with two
good, straight legs under him. Can it be that my ears are growing
dull, also, that I failed to hear the clank of the iron on his leg?"
Thus speaking, Mahmoud put forth his trunk, and with the two fingers
at its end felt carefully of Toots' legs, first of one and then of the
other. Then he drew back and blew a puff of wind through his trunk that
ruffled Pwit-Pwit's feathers, saying playfully:
"And so, Pwit-Pwit, little one, thou wouldst jest with thy most
faithful of friends? Nay, the lad is well-favored and good to look
upon, but he is not the little Limping Boy."
And Mahmoud, turning his head resolutely, began carrying to his mouth
the stack of hay the Keeper had placed before him. Toots felt his heart
torn as by a great sorrow.
"Mahmoud! Mahmoud!" he sobbed, holding out his arms.
But the elephant gave no heed to the boy, and the sparrow had flown
away.
Toots burst into tears.
"It is sad," said the Princess, putting her handkerchief to her eyes,
"but it is better to be strong like other boys."
And she led him away, and when next Toots and the Princess visited
their friends of the Menial World, he was tall, with hair on his lip,
and she was slender and very fair; and they looked only in each other's
eyes.
[Illustration: The End]
Transcriber's Note:
Italics are indicated by _underscores_.
Small capitals have been rendered in full capitals.
A number of minor spelling errors have been corrected without note.
End of Project Gutenberg's Two in a Zoo, by Curtis Dunham and Oliver Herford