didn't want to carry mud into the house. They said they would just
stand in the porch till the shower passed over. Then Mr. Wolf took
down his fiddle, tuned it up, and began to play. In his day and time
few could beat him playing the fiddle. And this time he played his
level best, for he knew that if he could start Mr. Billy-Goat to
dancing he'd have him for dinner."
"I don't see how," said Buster John.
"Well," exclaimed Mr. Rabbit, "if Mr. Billy-Goat began to dance he
would be likely to dance until he got tired, and then it would be an
easy matter for Mr. Wolf to outrun him."
"Of course," said Sweetest Susan.
"Well," Mr. Rabbit continued, "Mr. Wolf kept on playing the fiddle,
but Mr. Billy-Goat didn't dance. Not only that, he kept so near the
edge of the porch that the rain drifted in on his horns and ran down
his long beard. But he kept his eye on Mr. Wolf. After playing the
fiddle till he was tired, Mr. Wolf asked:--
"'How do you get your meat, my young friends?'
"Mr. Dog said he depended on his teeth, and Mr. Billy-Goat, thinking
to be on the safe side, said he also depended upon his teeth.
"'As for me,' cried Mr. Wolf, 'I depend on my feet!' and with that he
dropped his fiddle and jumped at Mr. Billy-Goat. But he knocked the
broom down and the handle tripped him. It was all very sudden, but
by the time Mr. Wolf had recovered himself Mr. Billy-Goat and Mr. Dog
had gone a considerable distance.
[Illustration: MR. BILLY-GOAT AND MR. WOLF]
"They ran and ran until they came to a big creek. Mr. Billy-Goat asked
Mr. Dog how he was going to get across.
"'Swim,' said Mr. Dog.
"'Then I'll have to bid you good-by,' replied Mr. Billy-Goat, 'for I
can't swim a stroke.'
"By this time they had arrived at the bank of the creek, and they
could hear Mr. Wolf coming through the woods. They had no time to
lose. Mr. Dog looked around on the ground, gathered some jan-weed,
yan-weed, and tan-weed, rubbed them together, and squeezed a drop of
the juice on Mr. Billy-Goat's horns. He had no sooner done this than
Mr. Billy-Goat was changed into a white rock.
"Then Mr. Dog leaped into the creek and swam across. Mr. Wolf ran to
the bank, but there he stopped. The water was so wide it made tears
come in his eyes; so deep that it made his legs ache; and so cold that
it made his body shiver.
"When Mr. Dog arrived safely on the other side he cried out, 'Aha!
you are afraid! You've drowned poor Mr. Billy-Goat, but you are afraid
of me. I dare you to fling a rock at me!'
"This made Mr. Wolf so mad that he seized the white rock and threw it
at Mr. Dog with all his might. It fell near Mr. Dog, and instantly
became Mr. Billy-Goat again. But in falling a piece was broken off,
and it happened to be Mr. Billy-Goat's tail. Ever since then he has
had a very short tail."
"Were you there, Mr. Rabbit?" asked Sweetest Susan bluntly.
"I was fishing at the time," replied Mr. Rabbit. "I heard the noise
they made, and I turned around and saw it just as I've told you."
Drusilla touched Buster John on the arm. "We ain't dreamin', is we,
honey?"
Buster John looked at her scornfully. "What put that in your head?" he
asked.
"Suppose the rock had hit Mr. Dog?" suggested Sweetest Susan.
THE PUMPKIN-EATER.
"Now, that's so!" exclaimed Mr. Thimblefinger. "And it reminds me of a
little accident that happened in my mother's family. But it's hardly
worth telling."
"Well, tell it, anyhow," said Mrs. Meadows.
"Yes," remarked Mr. Rabbit, "the proof of the pudding is in chewing
the bag."
"Well," said Mr. Thimblefinger, "as far back as I can remember, and
before that, too, my mother was a widow, and she had a great many
children to take care of. The reason she had so many children was
because she was poor. I have noticed all my life that when people are
very poor they happen to have more children than they know what to do
with. This was the way with my mother. She had a houseful of children,
and she found it a hard matter to get along.
"One day she went down to the creek to wash the clothes, such as she
and the children had, and when she got there she found an old man
sitting on the bank. He said, 'Howdy,' and she said, 'Good-morning,'
and then he asked her if she would be so good as to wash his coat and
his waistcoat. She said she would be glad to do so, and the old man
said he would be very much obliged. So my mother washed the coat and
waistcoat. Then he asked her if she would comb his hair for him, and
she did so.
"The old man thanked her kindly, and took from his pocket a string of
red beads and made her a present of them. Then he told her to go out
behind the house when she got home, and there she'd find a
pumpkin-tree growing. He said that she must bury the string of beads
at the foot of the tree.
"'That's a pity,' exclaimed my mother; 'they are so beautiful.'
"But the old man declared that she must do as he said, and after that
she was to go to the pumpkin-tree every day and ask for as many
pumpkins as she wanted.
"My mother went home and found the pumpkin-tree where never a tree had
been growing before, and at its roots she buried the string of beads.
Next morning, bright and early, she went to the pumpkin-tree and
called for one pumpkin. Down it dropped from the tree. For a long time
my mother and her children were happy and growing fat. Every day a big
pumpkin would be cooked, and as my mother had to leave us so as to
attend to her work, enough pumpkin would be left in the pot to last
us all day.
[Illustration: MY MOTHER WASHING THE OLD MAN'S COAT AND WAISTCOAT]
"I remember that time very well," Mr. Thimblefinger continued, with a
sigh, "for I was getting fat and growing to be almost as large as the
rest of the children. But one day, as my mother was going out to work
she found a hamper basket on the gate-post, and in that basket was a
baby. So she carried the baby in the house, gave it something to eat,
and then put it on the floor to play with the rest. But as soon as she
got out of the yard the baby crawled to the pot where the cooked
pumpkin was, and ate and ate until there was no pumpkin left. Of
course, the rest of the children had to go hungry. And when my mother
came home she had to go hungry, too.
"She was very much surprised. She found all the pumpkin gone and the
children crying for something to eat, and the stray baby was crying
louder than any. She said we were the greediest children she had ever
seen.
"The next day she cooked two pumpkins, but the same thing happened.
The baby went to the pot and ate both. The children told her how it
happened, but she wouldn't believe them. She said she couldn't be made
to believe that one puny little baby could eat two whole pumpkins--and
it _is_ very queer, when you come to think about it.
"The next day she cooked three pumpkins, but the same thing happened.
Then four, then five, then six. But it was always the same. No matter
how many pumpkins were cooked, the stray baby would eat them all, and
the rest of the children would have to go hungry. You see how small I
am," said Mr. Thimblefinger, suddenly pausing in the thread of his
story. "Well, the reason of it is that I was starved out by that
pumpkin-eating baby. My brothers and sisters and myself were just as
large and as healthy as any other children until that baby was found
on the gate-post, and from that day we began to dwindle and shrink
away.
"Well, we starved and starved until at last my mother could very
plainly see that something was the matter. So she set a trap for the
baby and baited it with pumpkins. She hadn't got out of hearing before
the baby put his head in the pot and got caught in the trap. It stayed
there all day, and when mother came home at night she found it there.
She was very much surprised, but she saw she must get rid of the baby.
She said that any creature that could manage to eat like that was able
to take care of itself, and so she carried it off down the road and
left it there.
"Now this Pumpkin-Eater was a witch baby, and as soon as it thought my
mother was out of sight and hearing it changed itself into a tall,
heavy man."
"'T wuz feedin' de big man all de time," exclaimed Drusilla.
"Certainly," replied Mr. Thimblefinger. "My mother was watching it,
and she followed to see where it would go. It went down to the bank of
the river. There it found the old man who had given my mother the
string of beads, and asked him for something to eat.
"'Comb my hair for me,' said the old man.
"But it refused, and then the old man told it to go to the
pumpkin-tree and ask for twenty pumpkins. The greedy thing was glad to
do this. It went to the tree and called for twenty pumpkins, and down
they fell on its head."
"What then?" asked Buster John, as Mr. Thimblefinger paused. "Was it
hurt?"
"Smashed!" exclaimed Mr. Thimblefinger. "Knocked flatter than a
pancake! Broke into jiblets!"
"It was a great waste of pumpkins," remarked Mrs. Meadows.
V.
THE TALKING-SADDLE.
Just then Mrs. Meadows smoothed out her apron and rose from her chair.
"I smell dinner," she said, "and it smells like it is on the table.
Let's go in and get rid of it."
She led the way, and the children followed. The dinner was nothing
extra,--just a plain, every-day, country dinner, with plenty of
pot-liquor and dumplings; but the children were hungry, and they made
short work of all that was placed before them. Drusilla waited on the
table, as she did at home, but she didn't go close to Mr. Rabbit. She
held out the dishes at arm's length when she offered him anything, and
once she came very near dropping a plate when he suddenly flapped his
big ear on his nose to drive off a fly.
Mrs. Meadows was very kind to the children, but when once the edge was
taken off their appetite they began to get uneasy again. There were a
thousand questions they might have asked, but they had been told
never to ask questions in company. Mr. Thimblefinger, who had a keen
eye for such things, noticed that they were beginning to get glum and
dissatisfied, and so he said with a laugh:--
"I've often heard in my travels of children who talked too much, but
these don't talk at all."
"Oh, they'll soon get over that," Mrs. Meadows remarked. "Everything
is so strange here, they don't know what to make of it. When I was a
little bit of a thing my ma used to take me to quiltings, and I know
it took me the longest kind of a time to get used to the strangers and
all."
"This isn't a quilting," said Sweetest Susan, with a sigh; "I wish it
was."
"I don't!" exclaimed Buster John plumply.
"Once when I was listening through a keyhole," said Mr. Thimblefinger,
placing his tiny knife and fork crosswise on his plate, "I heard a
story about a Talking-Saddle."
"Tell it! tell it!" cried Buster John and Sweetest Susan.
"I suppose you have no pie to-day?" said Mr. Rabbit.
[Illustration: DRUSILLA WAITING ON MR. RABBIT]
"Oh, yes," said Mrs. Meadows, "we'll have the pie and the story,
too."
Mr. Thimblefinger smacked his lips and winked his eye in such comical
fashion that the children laughed heartily, but they didn't forget the
story.
"I don't know that I can remember the best of it," said Mr.
Thimblefinger. "The wind was blowing and the keyhole was trying to
learn how to whistle, and I may have missed some of the story. But it
was such a queer one, and I was listening so closely, that I came very
near falling off the door-knob when some one started to come out. I
think we'd better eat our pie first. I might get one of those
huckleberries in my throat while talking, and there's no doctor close
at hand to keep me from choking to death."
So they ate their huckleberry-pie, and then Mr. Thimblefinger told the
story.
"Once upon a time a farmer had five sons. He was not rich and he was
not poor. He had some land, and he had a little money. He divided his
land equally among his four oldest sons, giving each just as much as
he could till. To each, he also gave a piece of money. Then he called
his youngest son, and said:--
"'You have sharp eyes and a keen wit. You want no land. All you need
is a saddle. That I will give you.'
"'A saddle! What will I do with a saddle?' asked the youngest son,
whose name was Tip-Top.
"'Make your fortune with it.'
"'If I had a horse--'
"'A head is better than a horse,' the father replied.
"Not long after, the old man died. The land was divided up among the
four older sons, and Tip-Top was left with the saddle. He slung it on
his back and set out to make his fortune. It was not long before he
came to a large town. He rested for a while and then he went into the
town. He remembered that his father had said a head was better than a
horse, so, instead of carrying the saddle on his back, he put it on
his head. At first the people thought he was carrying the saddle
because he had sold his horse for a good price, or because the animal
had died. But he went through street after street still carrying the
saddle on his head, never pausing to look around or to speak to
anybody, and at last the people began to wonder. Some said he was a
simpleton, some said he was a saddle-maker advertising his wares, and
some said he was a tramp who ought to be arrested and put in the
workhouse.
"This talk finally reached the ears of the Mayor of the town, and he
sent for Tip-Top to appear before him."
"What is a Mayor?" asked Sweetest Susan suddenly.
"He de head patter-roller," said Drusilla, before anybody else could
reply.
"That's about right," Mr. Thimblefinger declared. "Well, the Mayor
sent for Tip-Top. But instead of going to the place where the Mayor
held his court, Tip-Top inquired where his house was and went there.
Now, when Tip-Top knocked at the Mayor's door the servant, seeing the
man with a saddle on his head, began to scold him.
"'Do you think the Mayor keeps his harness in the parlor? Go in the
side gate and carry the saddle in the cellar where it belongs. Hang it
on the first peg you see.'
"Tip-Top tried to say something, but the servant shut the door with a
bang. Then Tip-Top did as he was bid. He went through the side gate,
and found the cellar without any trouble, but instead of hanging the
saddle on a peg, he placed it on the floor and sat on it.
"After waiting patiently a while, wondering when the Mayor would call
him, Tip-Top heard voices on the other side of the wall. He listened
closely, and soon found that the housemaid who had driven him away
from the Mayor's door was talking to her brother, who had just
returned from a long journey.
"'The Mayor has gold,' said the brother. 'You must tell me where he
keeps it. I have a companion in my travels, and to-night we shall come
and take the treasure.'
"For a long time the housemaid refused to tell where the Mayor kept
his gold, but the brother threatened and coaxed, and finally she told
him where the treasure lay.
"'It is in a closet by the chimney in the first room to the right at
the head of the stairs. The gold is in an iron box and it is very
heavy.'
"'My companion has long hair and a strong arm,' said the brother. 'He
is cross-eyed and knock-kneed. It wouldn't do for you to meet him in
the hallway. Go to bed early and lock your door, and if you hear any
outcry during the night cover your head with a pillow and go to sleep
again.'
"Then the housemaid and her brother went away.
"'Well,' said Tip-Top, 'this is no place for me.'
"He waited a while, and then went out of the cellar into the yard with
his saddle on his head. The cook, seeing him there, told him to carry
the saddle to the stable where the horses were kept. Tip-Top went to
the stable, placed his saddle in an empty stall, and sat on it.
"After a while he heard two persons come in from the street. They went
into a stall near by and began to talk. One was the coachman and the
other was his nephew, who had just returned from a long journey.
"'The Mayor has fine horses,' said the nephew. 'I must have two of
them to-night, otherwise I am ruined forever.'
"The coachman refused to listen at first, but after a while he
consented. He told his nephew that the stable-boy slept in the manger.
"'I have a companion in my travels,' said his nephew, 'and to-night
we shall come and take the horses away. My companion has short hair
and a heavy hand. Close your eyes and cover your head with straw if
you hear any outcry.'
"After a while the coachman and his nephew went out into the street
again, and then Tip-Top came forth from the stable with the saddle on
his head. The Mayor had just come in, and was standing at his window.
He saw the man in the yard with the saddle on his head, and sent a
servant to call him.
"'What is your name?' asked the Mayor.
"'Tip-Top, your honor.'
"'I didn't ask after your health; I asked for your name,' said the
Mayor.
"'It is Tip-Top, your honor.'
"'Your name or your health?'
"'Both, your honor.'
"'What are you doing here?'
"'His honor, the Mayor, sent for me, your honor.'
"'What were you doing just now?'
"'Waiting to be sent for, your honor.'
"'Where is your horse?' asked the Mayor.
[Illustration: TIP-TOP AND THE MAYOR]
"'I have no horse, your honor.'
"'Why do you carry your saddle?'
"'Because no one will carry it for me, your honor.'
"'Why do you not sell it and be rid of it, ninny?'
"'Few are rich enough to buy it, your honor.'
"'How much money is it worth?'
"'Two thousand pieces of gold, your honor.'
"'Are you crazy?' cried the Mayor. 'Why is it so valuable?'
"'It is a Talking-Saddle, your honor.'
"'What does it say?'
"'Everything, your honor. It warns, it predicts, and it gives advice.'
"'Let it talk for me,' said the Mayor, full of curiosity.
"'Your honor would fail to understand its language,' replied Tip-Top.
"'Let it talk and do you tell me what it says.'
"Tip-Top placed his saddle on the carpet and pressed his foot against
it until the leather made a creaking noise.
"'I am waiting,' said the Mayor. 'What does the saddle say?'
"'It says, your honor, that you must call the housemaid.'
"The Mayor, to humor the joke, did so. The housemaid came, grumbling.
She looked at the saddle, at Tip-Top, and then at the Mayor.
"'Now what does the saddle say?' asked the Mayor.
"'It says, your honor, that this woman has a brother, who has just
returned from a journey in strange lands. The saddle says, your honor,
that this woman's brother has a companion who has long hair and a
strong arm.'
"'Is that all?' asked the Mayor.
"'No, your honor, it is not half.'
"'It is very strange,' said the housemaid.
"'The saddle says, your honor, that if you will sit in the closet by
the chimney, in the first room to the right, where there is an iron
box that is very heavy, you will receive a visit to-night from this
woman's brother and his companion.'
"The Mayor was very much astonished, but before he could open his lips
the woman fell on her knees and confessed all. The Mayor called an
officer and sent her away. Then he turned to Tip-Top, and asked:--
"'Is that all?'
"'By no means, your honor. The saddle says send for the coachman.'
"The Mayor did so, and the coachman came, bowing and smiling.
"'How much is the saddle worth?' the Mayor asked him.
"'Master, it is worthless,' replied the coachman, with a sneer.
"'Let us see,' said the Mayor. Then, turning to Tip-Top: 'What does
the saddle say?'
"'It says, your honor, that this coachman here has a nephew, who has
just returned from a long journey. It says that the nephew has a
companion who has short hair and a heavy hand.'
"'What more?'
"'The saddle says, your honor, that if you will sleep in the manger
where your two finest horses feed, you will receive a visit from the
coachman's nephew and his traveling companion.'
"The coachman implored his master's mercy, and told all. Of course,
the Mayor was very much astonished. He turned his unfaithful servants
over to an officer, and that night had a watch set around his house
and stable, and caught the thieves and their companions."
"But the saddle didn't talk," said Sweetest Susan. "So the man didn't
tell what was true." She made this remark with so much dignity that
Mrs. Meadows laughed.
But Buster John was quite impatient.
"This isn't a girl's story," he exclaimed.
"Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Meadows. "It is for girls as well as boys.
Sometimes people tell stories just to pass the time away, and if the
stories have little fibs in 'em, that don't do anybody any harm, they
just keep them in there. If they didn't, the story wouldn't be true."
"Is that the end of the story of the Talking-Saddle?" asked Buster
John.
"No! Oh, no!" Mr. Thimblefinger answered. "I was just going to tell
you the rest."
But before he could go on with it, the noise of laughter was heard at
the door, and then there came running in a queer-looking girl and a
very queer-looking boy.
VI.
THE TALKING-SADDLE AND THE THIEF.
The queer-looking girl was running from the very queer-looking boy,
and both were laughing loudly. When they saw the children sitting at
the table they both stopped suddenly. The queer-looking girl turned
and made a wry face at the very queer-looking boy. At this both burst
out laughing, and suddenly stopped again.
"Be ashamed of yourselves!" exclaimed old Mr. Rabbit, rapping on the
floor with his cane. "Be ashamed! Where are your manners? Go and speak
to our friends and make your best bow, too,--don't forget that!" Mr.
Rabbit appeared to be very indignant.
Mrs. Meadows was in a better humor. "This," she said, as the
queer-looking girl came forward, "is Chickamy Crany Crow, and this,"
as the very queer-looking boy came timidly up, "is Tickle-My-Toes."
They bowed, and then went off a little way, looking very solemn and
comical. They didn't dare glance at each other for fear they would
begin laughing again. The reason they looked so queer was because,
although they acted like children, they were old in appearance,--as
old as a person past middle age.
"They are country-raised, poor things! You'll have to excuse them.
They don't know any better." Mr. Thimblefinger sighed as he said this,
and looked thoughtful.
"What about the Talking-Saddle?" Buster John inquired. "You said the
story wasn't finished."
"To be sure! To be sure!" Mr. Thimblefinger cried. "My mind is like a
wagon without a tongue. It goes every way but the right way. Where was
I? Oh, yes, I remember now."
"Well, the Mayor was very thankful to Tip-Top for saving his treasure
and his horses, but he wasn't satisfied about the saddle. He was
worried. Now, you know when a child is worried it cries, but when a
grown man is worried he sits down and looks away off, and puts his
elbow in his hand and his finger to his nose--so."
"Oh, I've seen papa do that," laughed Sweetest Susan.
"Yes, that's the way the Mayor did," Mr. Thimblefinger continued.
"There was a great thief in that country who had never been caught. He
didn't care for judges and juries and courthouses. He always sent the
Mayor word when he was coming to the city and when he was going away.
"Now, the Mayor had received a letter from this man just the day
before Tip-Top came. The thief said he was coming after a fine
race-horse that was owned by the Mayor's brother. So the Mayor sat and
thought, and finally he asked Tip-Top if his Talking-Saddle could
catch a famous thief.
"'It has just caught four common rogues, your honor,' replied Tip-Top,
'and I think it can catch one uncommon thief.'
"Then the Mayor told Tip-Top that the most famous thief in all that
country intended to steal his brother's race-horse. Tip-Top said he
must see the horse, and together they went to the stable where it was
kept. The horse was already guarded. Two servants sat in the stall,
two sat outside, and two remained near the door. The Mayor's brother
was also there.
"'What is this?' the brother asked.
"'This fellow wants to sell his saddle,' replied the Mayor.
"'Then arrest him,' cried the brother, 'for he is the thief.'
"'Nonsense,' replied the Mayor. 'He is a very honest man and I will
vouch for him.'
"Then the Mayor called his brother aside and told him why the man with
the saddle had come to see the horse.
"Tip-Top talked with the men who had been set to guard the horse, and
he soon found that one of them was an accomplice of the thief. This
man made a swift sign to Tip-Top, and placed his finger on his mouth.
Tip-Top replied by closing his eyes with his fingers, as if to show
that he saw nothing. When he had an opportunity he said to this man:--
"'Tell your master I will be willing to sell the saddle to-night. I
will sleep with it under my head on the next corner. It is worth one
thousand pieces of gold.'
"Then he returned to the Mayor, and they went away. Tip-Top laughed as
they walked along. 'This thief,' he remarked, 'is a fool. It is so
easy to steal a horse that he will not buy a saddle. He will try to
steal mine. Then we shall catch him. He will get the horse--'
"'What!' cried the Mayor; 'get the horse?'