Brother Wolf to capture me, and Brother Wolf had failed. Then he hired
Brother Bear, and Brother Bear got into deep trouble. Finally he hired
Brother Fox, and I knew the day wasn’t far off when Mrs. Fox would have
to hang crape on her door and go in mourning. All this had happened some
time before, and I bore Brother Lion no good will.
“So, when I heard him in the woods singing out that he smelled fresh
blood, I grabbed the shovel the man had left, and threw a dozen or so
hot rocks in the hogshead, and then threw some fresh dirt on the fire.
Presently Brother Lion came trotting up, sniffing the air, purring like
a spinning wheel a-running, and dribbling at the mouth.
“I passed the time of day with him as he came up, but kept further away
from him than he could jump. He seemed very much surprised to see me,
and said it was pretty bad weather for such little chaps to be out; but
I told him I had on pretty thick underwear, and besides that I had just
taken a hot bath in the hogshead.
“‘I’m both cold and dirty,’ says he, smelling around the hogshead, ‘and
I need a bath. I’ve been asleep in the woods yonder, and I’m right stiff
with cold. But that water is bubbling around in there mightily.’
“‘I’ve just flung some rocks in,’ says I.
“‘How do you get in?’ says he.
“‘Back in,’ says I.
“Brother Lion walked around the hogshead once or twice, as if to satisfy
himself that there was no trap, and then he squatted and began to crawl
into the hogshead backwards. By the time his hind leg touched the water,
he pulled it out with a howl, and tried to jump away, but, somehow, his
foot slipped off the rim of the hogshead, and he soused into the
water—kerchug!—up to his shoulders.”
Mr. Rabbit paused, shut his eyes, and chuckled to himself.
[Illustration:
YOU NEVER HEARD SUCH HOWLING SINCE YOU WERE BORN
]
“Well, you never heard such howling since you were born. Brother Lion
scrambled out quicker than a cat can wink her left eye, and rolled on
the ground, and scratched around, and tore up the earth considerably. I
thought at first he was putting on and pretending; but the water must
have been mighty hot, for while Brother Lion was scuffling around, all
the wool on his body came off up to his shoulders, and if you were to
see him to-day you’d find him just that way.
“And more than that—before he soused himself in that hogshead of hot
water, Brother Lion used to strut around considerably. Being the king of
all the animals, he felt very proud, and he used to go with his tail
curled over his back. But since that time, he sneaks around as if he was
afraid somebody would see him.
“There’s another thing. His hide hurt him so bad for a week that every
time a fly lit on him he’d wiggle his tail. Some of the other animals,
seeing him do this, thought it was a new fashion, and so they began to
wiggle their tails. Watch your old house cat when you go home, and you
will see her wiggle her tail forty times a day without any reason or
provocation. Why? Simply because the other animals, when they saw
Brother Lion wiggling his tail, thought it was the fashion; and so they
all began it, and now it has become a habit with the most of them. It is
curious how such things go.
“But the queerest thing of all,” continued Mr. Rabbit, leaning back in
his chair, and looking at Mrs. Meadows and the children through
half-closed eyes, “was this—that the only wool left on Brother Lion’s
body, with the exception of his mane, was a little tuft right on the end
of his tail.”
“How was that?” inquired Mrs. Meadows.
Mr. Rabbit laughed heartily, but made no reply.
“I don’t see anything to laugh at,” said Mrs. Meadows with some
emphasis. “A civil question deserves a civil answer, I’ve always heard.”
“Well, you know what you said a while ago,” remarked Mr. Rabbit.
“I don’t know as I remember,” replied Mrs. Meadows.
“Why, you said pointedly that it was not necessary to tell everything in
a story.” Mr. Rabbit made this remark with great dignity. “And I judged
by the way you said it that it was bad taste to tell everything.”
“Oh, I remember now,” said Mrs. Meadows, laughing. “It was only one of
my jokes.”
“But this is no joke,” protested Mr. Rabbit, winking at the children,
but keeping the serious side of his face toward Mrs. Meadows. “I took
you at your solemn word. Now there is a tuft of wool on Brother Lion’s
tail, and you ask me how it happened to be there. I answer you as you
answered me—’You don’t have to tell everything in a story.’ Am I right,
or am I wrong?”
“I’ll not dispute with you,” remarked Mrs. Meadows, taking up her
knitting.
“I don’t mind telling you,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, turning to the children
with a confidential air. “It was as simple as falling off a log. When
Brother Lion fell into the hogshead of hot water, the end of his tail
slipped through the bunghole.”
This explanation was such an unexpected one that the children laughed,
and so did Mrs. Meadows. But Mr. Thimblefinger, who had put in an
appearance, shook his head and remarked that he was afraid that Mr.
Rabbit got worse as he grew older, instead of better.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
XIV.
BROTHER LION HAS A SPELL OF SICKNESS.
“The fact is,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, “I was just telling the story—if you
can call it a story—to please company. If you think the end of Brother
Lion’s tale is the end of the story, well and good; but it didn’t stop
there when I told it in my young days. And it didn’t stop there when it
happened. But maybe I’ve talked too long and said too much. You know how
we gabble when we get old.”
“I like to hear you talk,” said Sweetest Susan, edging a little closer
to Mr. Rabbit and smiling cutely.
Mr. Rabbit took off his glasses and wiped them on his big red
handkerchief.
“There’s some comfort in that,” he declared. “If you really like to hear
me talk, I’ll go right ahead and tell the rest of the story. It’s a
little rough in spots, but you’ll know how to make allowances for that.
The creatures had claws and tushes, and where these grow thick and long,
there’s bound to be more or less scratching and biting.
“Of course, when Brother Lion had the wool scalded off his hide, he was
in a pretty bad condition. He managed to get home, but it was a long
time before he could come out and go roaming around the country. As he
was the king of the animals, of course all the rest of the creatures
called on him to see how he was getting on. I didn’t go myself, because
I didn’t know how he felt towards me. I was afraid he had heard me laugh
when he backed into the hogshead of hot water, though I made believe I
was sneezing. Consequently, I didn’t go and ask him how he was getting
on.
“But I went close enough to know that Brother Fox had told Brother Lion
a great rigamarole about me. That was Brother Fox’s way. In front of
your face, he was sweeter than sauce and softer than pudding, but behind
your back—well, he didn’t have any claws, but what tushes he had he
showed them.
“I never did hear what Brother Fox said about me in any one place and at
any one time, but I heard a little here and a little there, and when it
was all patched up and put together it made a great mess. I had done
this, and I had done that; I had laughed at Brother Lion behind his
back, and I had snickered at him before his face; I had talked about him
and made fun of him; and, besides all that, I had never had the
politeness to call on him.
“All the other animals found Brother Lion so willing to listen that they
learned Brother Fox’s lies by heart, and went and recited them here and
there about the country; and in that way I got hold of the worst of
them. The trouble with Brother Fox was that he had an old grudge against
me. He had been trying to outdo me for many a long year, but somehow or
other he always got caught in his own trap. He had a willing mind and a
thick head, and when these get together there’s always trouble. The
willing mind pushes and the thick head goes with its eyes shut.
“In old times, people used to say that Brother Fox was cunning, but I
believe they’ve quit that since the facts have come to light. My
experience with him is that he is blessed with about as much sense as a
half-grown guinea pig. He’s a pretty swift runner, but he doesn’t even
know when the time comes to run.
“Of course, when Brother Fox found out that for some reason or other I
wasn’t visiting Brother Lion, he seized the chance to talk about me, and
it wasn’t such a great while before he managed to make Brother Lion
believe that I was the worst enemy he had and the cause of all his
trouble.
“I knew pretty well that something of the sort was going on, for every
time I’d meet any of the other animals, they’d ask me why I didn’t call
and see Brother Lion. Brother Fox, especially, was anxious to know why I
hadn’t gone to ask after Brother Lion’s health.
“I put them all off for some time, until finally one day I heard that
Brother Lion had given Brother Fox orders to catch me and bring me
before him. This didn’t worry me at all, because I knew that Brother Fox
was just as able to catch me as I was to catch a wild duck in the middle
of a mill-pond. But I concluded I’d go and see Brother Lion and find out
all about his health.
“So I went, taking good care to go galloping by Brother Fox’s house. He
was sitting on his front porch, and I could see he was astonished, but I
neither said howdy nor turned my head. I knew he would follow along
after.
“When I got to Brother Lion’s house everything was very quiet, but I
knew Brother Lion was awake, for I heard him groan every time he tried
to turn over. So I rapped at the door and then walked in. Brother Lion
watched me from under his tousled mane for some time before he said
anything. Then he says, says he:—
“‘What’s this I hear?’
“Says I, ‘Not having your ears, I can’t say.’
“‘My ears are as good as anybody’s ears,’ says he.
“‘But I can’t hear through them,’ says I.
“He grunted and grumbled a little over this, because he didn’t know what
reply to make.
“‘You haven’t been to see me until now,’ says he.
“‘No,’ says I; ‘I knew you were pretty bad off, and so I had no need to
come and ask you how you were. I knew I was partly to blame in the
matter, and so I went off to see if I couldn’t find a cure for you.’
“Says he, ‘Don’t talk about cures. Everybody that has come to see me has
a cure. I’ve tried ’em all, and now I’m worse off than I was at first.’
“Says I, ‘I could have come as often as Brother Fox did, and my coming
would have done you just as much good.’
“‘I don’t know about that,’ says he. ‘Brother Fox has been mighty
neighborly. He has lost sleep on my account, and he has told me a great
many things that I didn’t know before.’
“‘Likely enough,’ says I. ‘I’ve known him to tell people a great many
things that he didn’t know himself. But Brother Fox,’ says I, ‘was the
least of all things in my mind when I found out that you had been
scalded by water that was not more than milk-warm. I didn’t need to be
told that when milk-warm water scalds the hair off of anybody, something
else is the matter beside the scalding.’
“At this Brother Lion seemed to quiet down a little. He didn’t talk so
loud, and he began to show the whites of his eyes.
“‘Yes,’ says I, ‘Brother Fox is famous for talking behind the door, but
I’ve noticed that he never says anything nice about anybody. You know
what he’s said about me, but do you know what he’s said about you? Of
course you don’t, and I’m not going to tell you, because I don’t want
you to be worried.’
“‘But I’d like to know,’ says Brother Lion, says he.
“‘It wouldn’t do you any good,’ says I. ‘I could have come here and
jowered and made a good deal of trouble, but instead of that I knew of
an old friend of mine who knows how to cure hot burns and cold burns,
and so I’ve been off on a long trip to see the witch doctor, old
Mammy-Bammy Big Money.’
“‘And did you see her?’ says Brother Lion, says he.
“‘I most certainly did,’ says I, ‘and furthermore I laid the whole case
before her. I had to travel far and wide to find her, but when I did
find her I asked her to tell me what was good for a person who had been
scalded by milk-warm water. She asked me three times the name of the
person, and three times I told her. Then she lit a pine splinter, blew
it out, and watched the smoke scatter. There was something wrong, for
she shook her head three times.’
“‘What did Mammy-Bammy Big Money say?’ says Brother Lion, says he. His
voice sounded very weak.
“‘She said nothing,’ says I. ‘She watched the smoke scatter, and then
she put her hands before her face and rocked from side to side. After
that she walked back and forth, and when she sat down again she took off
her left slipper, shook out the gravel, and counted it as it fell. Once
more she asked me the name of the person who had been scalded in
milk-warm water, and once more I told her.’
“‘Wait!’ says Brother Lion, says he. ‘Do you mean to tell me the water I
fell in was only milk-warm?’
“Says I, ‘It seemed so to me. I had just washed my face and hands in
it.’
“‘Well, well, well!’ says Brother Lion. ‘What else did she say?’ says
he.
“‘I don’t like to tell you,’ says I; and just about that time Brother
Fox walked in.
“‘But you must tell me,’ says Brother Lion, says he.
“‘Well,’ says I, ‘if I must I will, but I don’t like to. When
Mammy-Bammy Big Money had counted the white pebbles that fell from her
slipper, and asked me the name of the person who was scalded in
milk-warm water, she told me that he could be cured by poulticing the
burns with the fresh hide of his best friend. I asked her the name of
this friend, but she shook her head and said she would call no names.
Then she said that your best friend had short ears, a sharp nose, keen
eyes, slim legs, and a bushy tail.’
“Brother Lion shut his eyes and pretended to be thinking. I looked at
Brother Fox as solemnly as I knew how, and shook my head slowly. Brother
Fox got mighty restless. He got up and walked around.
“‘Well, well, well!’ says Brother Lion, says he. ‘That might mean
Brother Wolf, or it might mean Brother Fox.’
“‘I expect it means Brother Wolf,’ says Brother Fox.
“‘Why, you don’t mean to stand up here and say right before Brother
Lion’s face and eyes that Brother Wolf is a better friend to him than
you are!’ says I.
“Brother Fox’s mouth fell open and his tongue hung out, and just about
that time I made my best bow, and put out for home.”
“But did Brother Lion try the remedy?” Buster John inquired, as Mr.
Rabbit paused and began to light his pipe.
“I think Brother Lion caught him and skinned him. It’s a great pity if
he didn’t. But I’ll not be certain. So many things have happened since
then that I disremember about the hide business. But you may be sure
Brother Lion was very superstitious. My best opinion is that he tried
the cure.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
XV.
A MOUNTAIN OF GOLD.
“That is a funny name for a witch,” said Buster John, as Rabbit paused
and began to nod.
“Which name was that?” inquired Mr. Thimblefinger.
“Why, Mammy-Bammy Big Money,” replied Buster John, elevating his voice a
little.
“Well, it’s very simple,” remarked Mr. Thimblefinger. “‘Mammy-Bammy’ was
to catch the ear of the animals, and ‘Big Money’ was to attract the
attention of the people.”
“Dat’s so,” said Drusilla. “Kaze time you say ‘money’ folks’ll stop der
work an’ lissen at you; an’ ef you say ‘Big Money’ dey’ll ax you ter say
it agin’.”
“It’s very curious about money,” continued Mr. Thimblefinger. “I don’t
know whether you ever thought about it much—and I hope you haven’t—but
it has pestered me a good deal, this thing you call money.”
“It’s mighty bothersome,” assented Mrs. Meadows, “when you are where
people use it, and when you have none except what you can beg or borrow.
Thank goodness! I’m free from all bother now.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, “I don’t see that people have much the
advantage of the animals when it comes to using money. I’ve seen grown
people work night and day for a few pieces of metal.”
“Why, of course!” cried Buster John. “They can take the pieces of metal
and buy bread and meat to eat and clothes to wear.”
“So much the more wonderful!” remarked Mr. Thimblefinger. “What do the
people who have more bread and meat and clothes than they can use want
with the pieces of metal?”
“So they may buy something else that they haven’t got,” said Buster
John.
But Mr. Thimblefinger shook his head. He was not satisfied.
“It puts me in mind of a tale I heard once about a poor man who was the
richest person in the world.”
“But that couldn’t be, you know,” protested Buster John.
“Anyhow, that’s the way it seemed to me in the story,” replied Mr.
Thimblefinger. “But the story is so old-fashioned it would hardly pass
muster now. Besides, they tell me that, as there’s not enough metal to
go round, people have begun to make up their minds that pieces of paper
with pictures on them are just as good as the metal, and perhaps better.
It’s mighty funny to me.”
“What was the story?” asked Sweetest Susan. “Please tell us about it.”
“Why, yes,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, “tell us about it. If calamus root
passes current with some of my acquaintances and catnip with others, I
see no reason why people shouldn’t play make-believe among themselves,
and say that pieces of metal and pieces of paper are worth something. In
this business people have a great advantage over us. They can put
figures on their pieces of metal and paper and make them worth anything,
but with us a joint of calamus root is worth just so much. It has been
worth that since the year one, and it will be worth that right on to the
end of things. Just so with a twist of catnip. But tell us the
story—tell us the story. I may drop off to sleep, but if I do, that will
be no sign that the tale isn’t interesting.”
“Well,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, “once upon a time there was a country in
which money became very scarce. The people had a great deal, but they
hid it in their stockings and in the chinks of the chimneys and in their
teapots. The reason of this was that other countries close at hand made
their money out of the same kind of metal, and they’d bring their goods
in and sell them and carry the money off home with them.
“Of course this helped to make money scarce, and the scarcer it was the
more the people clung to it, and this made it still scarcer. Naturally
everybody kept an eye out in the hope of finding a supply of this
metal.”
“What sort of metal was it?” asked Buster John.
“Gold,” replied Mr. Thimblefinger.
“Oh!” exclaimed Buster John, in a disappointed tone.
“Yes,” continued Mr. Thimblefinger, “nothing in the world but gold.
Those who had money held on to it as long as they could, because they
didn’t know how much scarcer it would be, and those who didn’t have any
were willing to sell whatever they had for any price in order to get
some.
“It was lots worse than playing dolls—lots worse. When children play
make-believe with dolls, they soon forget about it; but when grown
people begin to play make-believe with money, they never get over it.
The wisest men get their heads turned when they begin to think and talk
about money. They have forgotten that it was all a make-believe in the
beginning.”
Here Mr. Rabbit yawned and said: “You’ll have to excuse me if I nod a
little here.”
“Yes,” remarked Mrs. Meadows, “I feel a little sleepy myself, but I’ll
try to keep awake for the sake of appearances.”
“Don’t mind me,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, with mock politeness. “Go to
sleep if you want to, you two. I won’t have to talk so loud.
“Well, in this country I was telling you about, there was a young man
who had saved some money by working hard, but he didn’t save it fast
enough to suit himself. He thought so much about it that he would stop
in the middle of his work, and sit and study about it an hour at a time.
“He thought about it so much that he began to dream about it, and one
night he dreamed that he got in a boat and went to an island on which
there was a mountain of gold that shone and glistened in the sun. He was
very unhappy when he woke in the morning and found it was nothing but a
dream.
“He didn’t go to work that day, but wandered about doing nothing. That
night he had the same dream. He had the same dream the next night; and
the morning after, the first person he saw was an old man who had
stopped to rest on the doorsteps. This old man would have been like
other old men but for one thing. His beard was so long that he had to
part it in the middle of his chin, pass it under each arm, cross the
wisps on his back, and bring them around in front again, where the two
ends were tied together with a bow of red ribbon.
“‘How are you, my young friend, and how goes it?’ said the old man,
smiling pleasantly. ‘You look as if you had been having wonderful
dreams.’
“‘So I have, gran’sir,’ replied the young man.
“‘Well, a dream isn’t worth a snap of your finger unless it comes true,
and a dream never comes true until you have dreamed it three times.’
“‘I have dreamed mine three times, gran’sir, and yet it is impossible
that it should come true.’
“‘Nonsense! Nothing is impossible. Tell me your dream.’
“So the young man told the old man his dream.
“‘The Island of the Mountain of Gold!’ exclaimed the old man. ‘Why, that
is right in my line of travel. I can land you there without any trouble.
It is a little out of my way, but not much.’
“‘How shall we get there?’ the young man asked.
“‘On the other side of the town, I have a boat,’ replied the old man.
‘You are welcome to go with me. It is so seldom that dreams come true
that I shall be glad to help this one along as well as I can. Besides, I
have long wanted an excuse to visit the Island of the Mountain of Gold.
I have passed within sight of it hundreds of times, but have always been
too busy to land there.’
“The young man looked at the old man with astonishment. If he had spoken
his thoughts he would have declared the old man to be crazy, but he said
nothing. He simply followed after him. The old man led the way across
the town to a wharf, where his boat was tied. It was a light little
skiff that could be sailed by one man. In this the two embarked.
“The old man managed the sail with one hand and the rudder with the
other, and he had hardly made things ready and taken his seat before a
light breeze sprang up and filled the sail. The skiff glided along the
water so easily that the shore seemed to be receding while the boat
stood still. But the breeze grew stronger and stronger, and the sail
bore so heavily on the nose of the boat that the foam and spray flew
high in the air.
“The sun was bright and the sky was blue, and the dark green water
seemed to boil beneath them, so swiftly the light boat sped along. The
young man clapped his hands as joyously as a boy, and the old man
smiled. Presently he leaned over the side of the boat and pointed to
something shining and sparkling in the distance. The young man saw it,
too, and turned an inquiring eye upon his companion.
“‘That is your mountain of gold,’ said the old man.
“‘It seems to be very small,’ said the other. He ceased to smile, and a
frown clouded his face.
“The old man noticed the frown, and shook his head and frowned a little
himself, coughing in the muffler that was tied around his neck. But he
said:—
“‘The mountain of gold is more than twenty miles away.’
“‘How far have we come?’
“‘Some hundred and odd miles.’
“The young man seemed to be very much surprised, but he said nothing. He
leaned so far over the side of the boat to watch the mountain of gold
that he was in danger of falling out. The old man kept an eye on him,
but did not lift a finger to warn him.
“In due time they came to the island, if it could be called an island.
It seemed to be a barren rock that had lifted itself out of the sea to
show the mountain of gold. The mountain was only a hill, but it was a
pretty high one, considering it was of solid gold.”
“Sure enough gold?” asked Sweetest Susan.
“Pure gold,” answered Mr. Thimblefinger. “The old man landed his skiff
at a convenient place, and the two got out and went to the mountain, or
hill, of gold that rose shining in the middle of the small island. The
actions of the young man showed that he considered himself the
proprietor of both island and mountain. He broke off a chunk of gold as
big as your fist, weighed it in his hand, and would have given it to the
old man, but the latter shook his head.
“‘You refuse it?’ cried the other. ‘If it is not enough I’ll give you as
much more.’
“‘No,’ replied the old man. ‘Keep it for yourself. You owe me nothing. I
could have carried away tons of the stuff long before I saw you, but I
had no use for it. You are welcome to as much as you can take away with
you.’
“‘As much as I can take away!’ exclaimed the other. ‘I shall take it
all.’