Grandfather Frog sat on his big green lily-pad in the Smiling Pool.
Grandfather Frog felt very good that morning, very good indeed,
because--why, because his white and yellow waistcoat was full of foolish
green flies. It is doubtful, very, very doubtful if Grandfather Frog
could have swallowed another foolish green fly to save his life. So he
sat with his hands folded across his white and yellow waistcoat, and
into his eyes, his great goggly eyes, there crept a far, far, far away
look. Grandfather Frog was dreaming of the days when the world was young
and the frogs ruled the world.
Pretty soon the Merry Little Breezes of Old Mother West Wind came over
to the Smiling Pool to rock Mrs. Redwing's babies to sleep in their
cradle in the bulrushes. But when they saw Grandfather Frog they forgot
all about Mrs. Redwing and her babies.
"Good morning, Grandfather Frog!" they shouted.
Grandfather Frog awoke from his dream with a funny little jump.
"Goodness, how you startled me!" said Grandfather Frog, smoothing down
his white and yellow waistcoat.
The Merry Little Breezes giggled. "We didn't mean to, truly we didn't,"
said the merriest one of all. "We just wanted to know how you do this
fine morning, and--and--"
"Chug-a-rum," said Grandfather Frog, "you want me to tell you a story."
The Merry Little Breezes giggled again. "How did you ever guess it?"
they cried. "It must be because you are so very, very wise. Will you
tell us a story, Grandfather Frog? Will you please?"
Grandfather Frog looked up and winked one big, goggly eye at jolly,
round, red Mr. Sun, who was smiling down from the blue sky. Then he sat
still so long that the Merry Little Breezes began to fear that
Grandfather Frog was out of sorts and that there would be no story that
morning. They fidgeted about among the bulrushes and danced back and
forth across the lily-pads. They had even begun to think again of Mrs.
Redwing's babies.
"Chug-a-rum!" said Grandfather Frog suddenly. "What shall I tell you
about?"
Just then a black shadow swept across the Smiling Pool. "Caw, caw, caw,
caw!" shouted Blacky the Crow noisily, as he flew over toward Farmer
Brown's cornfield.
"Tell us why Blacky the Crow always wears a coat of black, as if he were
in mourning," shouted the Merry Little Breezes.
Grandfather Frog watched Blacky disappear behind the Lone Pine. Then,
when the Merry Little Breezes had settled down, each in the golden heart
of a white water-lily, he began:
"Once upon a time, when the world was young, old Mr. Crow, the
grandfather a thousand times removed of Blacky, whom you all know, lived
in the Green Forest on the edge of the Green Meadows, just as Blacky
does now, and with him lived his brothers and sisters, his uncles and
aunts, his cousins and all his poor relations.
"Now Mr. Crow was very smart. Indeed, he was the smartest of all the
birds. There wasn't anything that old Mr. Crow couldn't do or didn't
know. At least he thought there wasn't. All the little meadow people and
forest folks began to think so, too, and one after another they got in
the habit of coming to him for advice, until pretty soon they were
bringing all their affairs to Mr. Crow for settlement.
"Now for a while Mr. Crow showed great wisdom, and this so pleased Old
Mother Nature that she gave him a suit of pure, dazzling white, so that
all seeing him might look up to him as a shining example of wisdom and
virtue. Of course all his brothers and sisters, his uncles and aunts,
his cousins and all his poor relations at once put on white, that all
might know that they were of Mr. Crow's family. And of course every one
showed them the greatest attention out of respect to old Mr. Crow, so
that presently they began to hold their heads very high and to think
that because they were related to old Mr. Crow they were a little better
than any of the other little meadow people and forest folks. When they
met old Mr. Rabbit they would pretend not to see him, because he wore a
white patch on the seat of his trousers. When old Mr. Woodchuck said
'good morning,' they would pretend not to hear, for you know Mr.
Woodchuck wore a suit of dingy yellow and lived in a hole in the ground.
Old Mr. Toad was ugly to look upon. Besides, he worked for his living in
a garden. So when they happened to meet him on the road they always
turned their backs.
"For a long time old Mr. Crow himself continued to be a very fine
gentleman and to hold the respect of all his neighbors. He was polite to
every one, and to all who came to him he freely gave of his advice as
wisely as he knew how. Of course it wasn't long before he knew all about
his neighbors and their private affairs. Now it isn't safe to know too
much about your neighbors and what they are doing. It is dangerous
knowledge, very dangerous knowledge indeed," said Grandfather Frog
solemnly.
"To be sure it would have been safe enough," he continued, "if Mr. Crow
had kept it to himself. But after a while Mr. Crow became vain. Yes,
Sir, that is just what happened to old Mr. Crow--he became vain. He
liked to feel that all the little meadow people and forest folks looked
up to him with respect, and whenever he saw one of them coming he would
brush his white coat, swell himself up and look very important. After a
while he began to brag among his relatives of how much he knew about his
neighbors. Of course they were very much interested, very much
interested indeed, and this flattered Mr. Crow so that almost before he
knew it he was telling some of the private affairs which had been
brought to him for his advice. Oh, dear me, Mr. Crow began to gossip.
"Now, gossiping is one of the worst habits in all the world, one of the
very worst. No good ever comes of it. It just makes trouble, trouble,
trouble. It was so now. Mr. Crow's relatives repeated the stories that
they heard. But they took great care that no one should know where they
came from. My, my, my, how trouble did spread on the Green Meadows and
in the Green Forest! No one suspected old Mr. Crow, so he was more in
demand than ever to straighten matters out. His neighbors came to him so
much that they began to be ashamed to ask his advice for nothing, so
they brought him presents so that no more need Mr. Crow hunt for things
to eat. Instead, he lived on the fat of the land without working, and
grew fat and lazy.
"As I have told you, Mr. Crow was smart. Yes, indeed, he certainly was
smart. It did not take him long to see that the more trouble there was
among his neighbors the more they would need his advice, and the more
they needed his advice the more presents he would receive. He grew very
crafty. He would tell tales just to make trouble, and sometimes, when he
saw a chance, he would give advice that he knew would make more trouble.
The fact is, old Mr. Crow became a mischief-maker, the very worst kind
of a mischief-maker. And all the time he appeared to be the fine
gentleman that he used to be. He wore his fine white coat as proudly as
ever.
"Matters grew worse and worse. Never had there been so much trouble on
the Green Meadows or so many quarrels in the Green Forest. Old Mr. Mink
never met old Mr. Otter without picking a fight. Old Mrs. Skunk wouldn't
speak to old Mrs. Coon. Old Mr. Chipmunk turned his back on his cousin,
old Mr. Red Squirrel, whenever their paths crossed. Even my grandfather
a thousand times removed, old Mr. Frog, refused to see his nearest
relative, old Mr. Toad. And all the time old Mr. Crow wore his beautiful
suit of white and grew rich and fat, chuckling to himself over his
ill-gotten wealth.
"Then one day came Old Mother Nature to visit the Green Meadows. It
didn't take her long to find that something was wrong, very wrong
indeed. Old Mr. Crow and all his relatives hastened to pay their
respects and to tell her how much they appreciated their beautiful
white suits. Old Mr. Crow made a full report of all the troubles that
had been brought to him, but he took great care not to let her know that
he had had any part in making trouble. He looked very innocent, oh,
very, very innocent, but not once did he look her straight in the face.
"Now the eyes of Old Mother Nature are wonderfully sharp and they seemed
to bore right through old Mr. Crow. You can't fool Old Mother Nature.
No, Sir, you can't fool Old Mother Nature, and it's of no use to try.
She listened to all that Mr. Crow had to say. Then she sent Mr. North
Wind to blow his great trumpet and call together all the little people
of the Green Meadows and all the little folks of the Green Forest.
"When they had all come together she told them all that had happened.
She told just how Mr. Crow had started the stories in order to make
trouble so that they would seek his advice and bring him presents to pay
for it. When the neighbors of old Mr. Crow heard this they were very
angry, and they demanded of Old Mother Nature that Mr. Crow be punished.
"'Look!' said Old Mother Nature, pointing at old Mr. Crow. 'He has been
punished already.'
"Every one turned to look at Mr. Crow. At first they hardly knew him.
Instead of his suit of spotless white his clothes were black, as black
as the blackest night. So were the clothes of his uncles and aunts, his
brothers and sisters, his cousins and all his poor relations.
"And ever since that long-ago day, when the world was young, the Crows
have been mischief-makers and have worn black, that all who look may
know that they bring nothing but trouble," concluded Grandfather Frog.
"Thank you! Thank you, Grandfather Frog," shouted the Merry Little
Breezes, jumping up to go rock the Redwing babies.
"Caw, caw, caw, caw!" shouted Blacky the Crow, flying over their heads
with a mouthful of corn he had stolen from Farmer Brown's cornfield.
XIII
STRIPED CHIPMUNK FOOLS PETER RABBIT
Peter Rabbit sat at the top of the Crooked Little Path where it starts
down the hill. He was sitting there when jolly, round, red Mr. Sun threw
his nightcap off and began his daily climb up into the blue, blue sky.
He saw Old Mother West Wind hurry down from the Purple Hills and turn
her Merry Little Breezes out to play on the Green Meadows.
Peter yawned. The fact is, Peter had been out nearly all night, and now
he didn't know just what to do with himself. Presently he saw Striped
Chipmunk whisk up on top of an old log. As usual the pockets in Striped
Chipmunk's cheeks were stuffed so full that his head looked to be twice
as big as it really is, and as usual he seemed to be very busy, very
busy indeed. He stopped just long enough to wink one of his saucy black
eyes and shout: "Good morning, Peter Rabbit!"
Then he disappeared as suddenly as he had come. A few minutes later he
was back on the old log, but this time his cheeks were empty.
"Fine day, Peter Rabbit," said Striped Chipmunk, and whisked out of
sight.
Peter Rabbit yawned again. Then he closed his eyes for just a minute.
When he opened them there was Striped Chipmunk on the old log just as
before, and the pockets in both cheeks were so full that it seemed as if
they would burst.
"Nice morning to work, Peter Rabbit," said Striped Chipmunk, in spite of
his full cheeks. Then he was gone.
Once more Peter Rabbit closed his eyes, but hardly were they shut when
Striped Chipmunk shouted:
"Oh, you Peter Rabbit, been out all night?"
Peter snapped his eyes open just in time to see the funny little tail of
Striped Chipmunk vanish over the side of the old log. Peter scratched
one of his long ears and yawned again, for Peter was growing more and
more sleepy. It was a long yawn, but Peter cut it off right in the
middle, for there was Striped Chipmunk back on the old log, and both
pockets in his cheeks were stuffed full.
Now Peter Rabbit is as curious as he is lazy, and you know he is very,
very lazy. The fact is, Peter Rabbit's curiosity is his greatest fault,
and it gets him into a great deal of trouble. It is because of this and
the bad, bad habit of meddling in the affairs of other people into
which it has led him that Peter Rabbit has such long ears.
For a while Peter watched busy Striped Chipmunk. Then he began to wonder
what Striped Chipmunk could be doing. The more he wondered the more he
felt that he really must know. The next time Striped Chipmunk appeared
on the old log, Peter shouted to him.
"Hi, Striped Chipmunk, what are you so busy about? Why don't you play a
little?"
Striped Chipmunk stopped a minute. "I'm building a new house," said he.
"Where?" asked Peter Rabbit.
"That's telling," replied Striped Chipmunk, and whisked out of sight.
Now Peter Rabbit knew where Reddy Fox and Jimmy Skunk and Bobby Coon and
Happy Jack Squirrel and Johnny Chuck and Danny Meadow Mouse lived. He
knew all the little paths leading to their homes. But he did not know
where Striped Chipmunk lived. He never had known. He thought of this as
he watched Striped Chipmunk hurrying back and forth. The more he thought
of it the more curious he grew. He really _must_ know. Pretty soon along
came Jimmy Skunk, looking for some beetles.
"Hello, Jimmy Skunk," said Peter Rabbit.
"Hello, Peter Rabbit," said Jimmy Skunk.
"Do you know where Striped Chipmunk lives?" asked Peter Rabbit.
"No, I don't know where Striped Chipmunk lives, and I don't care; it's
none of my business," replied Jimmy Skunk. "Have you seen any beetles
this morning?"
Peter Rabbit hadn't seen any beetles, so Jimmy Skunk went on down the
Crooked Little Path, still looking for his breakfast.
By and by along came Johnny Chuck.
"Hello, Johnny Chuck!" said Peter Rabbit.
"Hello, yourself!" said Johnny Chuck.
"Do you know where Striped Chipmunk lives?" asked Peter Rabbit.
"No, I don't, for it's none of my business," said Johnny Chuck, and
started on down the Crooked Little Path to the Green Meadows.
Then along came Bobby Coon.
"Hello, Bobby Coon!" said Peter Rabbit.
"Hello!" replied Bobby Coon shortly, for he too had been out all night
and was very sleepy.
"Do you know where Striped Chipmunk lives?" asked Peter Rabbit.
"Don't know and don't want to; it's none of my business," said Bobby
Coon even more shortly than before, and started on for his hollow
chestnut tree to sleep the long, bright day away.
Peter Rabbit could stand it no longer. Curiosity had driven away all
desire to sleep. He simply had to know where Striped Chipmunk lived.
"I'll just follow Striped Chipmunk and see for myself where he lives,"
said Peter to himself.
So Peter Rabbit hid behind a tuft of grass close by the old log and sat
very, very still. It was a very good place to hide, a very good place.
Probably if Peter Rabbit had not been so brimming over with curiosity he
would have succeeded in escaping the sharp eyes of Striped Chipmunk. But
people full of curiosity are forever pricking up their ears to hear
things which do not in the least concern them. It was so with Peter
Rabbit. He was so afraid that he would miss something that both his
long ears were standing up straight, and they came above the grass
behind which Peter Rabbit was hiding.
Of course Striped Chipmunk saw them the very instant he jumped up on the
old log with both pockets in his cheeks stuffed full. He didn't say a
word, but his sharp little eyes twinkled as he jumped off the end of the
old log and scurried along under the bushes, for he guessed what Peter
Rabbit was hiding for, and though he did not once turn his head he knew
that Peter was following him. You see Peter runs with big jumps,
lipperty-lipperty-lip, and people who jump must make a noise.
So, though he tried very hard not to make a sound, Peter was in such a
hurry to keep Striped Chipmunk in sight that he really made a great deal
of noise. The more noise Peter made, the more Striped Chipmunk chuckled
to himself.
Presently Striped Chipmunk stopped. Then he sat up very straight and
looked this way and looked that way, just as if trying to make sure that
no one was watching him. Then he emptied two pocketfuls of shining
yellow gravel on to a nice new mound which he was building. Once more he
sat up and looked this way and looked that way. Then he scuttled back
towards the old log. As he ran Striped Chipmunk chuckled and chuckled to
himself, for all the time he had seen Peter Rabbit lying flat down
behind a little bush and knew that Peter Rabbit was thinking to himself
how smart he had been to find Striped Chipmunk's home when no one else
knew where it was.
No sooner was Striped Chipmunk out of sight than up jumped Peter Rabbit.
He smiled to himself as he hurried over to the shining mound of yellow
gravel. You see Peter's curiosity was so great that not once did he
think how mean he was to spy on Striped Chipmunk.
"Now," thought Peter, "I know where Striped Chipmunk lives. Jimmy Skunk
doesn't know. Johnny Chuck doesn't know. Bobby Coon doesn't know. But
_I_ know. Striped Chipmunk may fool all the others, but he can't fool
me."
By this time Peter Rabbit had reached the shining mound of yellow
gravel. At once he began to hunt for the doorway to Striped Chipmunk's
home. But there wasn't any doorway. No, Sir, there wasn't any doorway!
Look as he would, Peter Rabbit could not find the least sign of a
doorway. He walked 'round and 'round the mound and looked here and
looked there, but not the least sign of a door was to be seen. There
was nothing but the shining mound of yellow gravel, the green grass, the
green bushes and the blue, blue sky, with jolly, round, red Mr. Sun
looking down and laughing at him.
Peter Rabbit sat down on Striped Chipmunk's shining mound of yellow
gravel and scratched his left ear with his left hindfoot. Then he
scratched his right ear with his right hindfoot. It was very perplexing.
Indeed, it was so perplexing that Peter quite forgot that Striped
Chipmunk would soon be coming back. Suddenly right behind Peter's back
Striped Chipmunk spoke.
"How do you like my sand pile, Peter Rabbit? Don't you think it is a
pretty nice sand pile?" asked Striped Chipmunk politely. And all the
time he was chuckling away to himself.
Peter was so surprised that he very nearly fell backward off the
shining mound of yellow gravel. For a minute he didn't know what to
say. Then he found his tongue.
[Illustration: Peter was so surprised that he nearly fell backward.]
"Oh," said Peter Rabbit, apparently in the greatest surprise, "is this
your sand pile, Striped Chipmunk? It's a very nice sand pile indeed. Is
this where you live?"
Striped Chipmunk shook his head. "No, oh, my, no!" said he. "I wouldn't
think of living in such an exposed place! My goodness, no indeed!
Everybody knows where this is. I'm building a new home, you know, and of
course I don't want the gravel to clutter up my dooryard. So I've
brought it all here. Makes a nice sand pile, doesn't it? You are very
welcome to sit on my sand pile whenever you feel like it, Peter Rabbit.
It's a good place to take a sun bath; I hope you'll come often."
All the time Striped Chipmunk was saying this his sharp little eyes
twinkled with mischief and he chuckled softly to himself.
Peter Rabbit was more curious than ever. "Where is your new home,
Striped Chipmunk?" he asked.
"Not far from here; come call on me," said Striped Chipmunk.
Then with a jerk of his funny little tail he was gone. It seemed as if
the earth must have swallowed him up. Striped Chipmunk can move very
quickly, and he had whisked out of sight in the bushes before Peter
Rabbit could turn his head to watch him.
Peter looked behind every bush and under every stone, but nowhere could
he find Striped Chipmunk or a sign of Striped Chipmunk's home, excepting
the shining mound of yellow gravel. At last Peter pushed his inquisitive
nose right into the doorway of Bumble the Bee. Now Bumble the Bee
happened to be at home, and being very short of temper, he thrust a
sharp little needle into the inquisitive nose of Peter Rabbit.
"Oh! oh! oh!" shrieked Peter, clapping both hands to his nose, and
started off home as fast as he could go.
And though he didn't know it and doesn't know it to this day, he went
right across the doorstep of Striped Chipmunk's home. So Peter still
wonders and wonders where Striped Chipmunk lives, and no one can tell
him, not even the Merry Little Breezes. You see there is not even a sign
of a path leading to his doorway, for Striped Chipmunk never goes or
comes twice the same way. His doorway is very small, just large enough
for him to squeeze through, and it is so hidden in the grass that often
the Merry Little Breezes skip right over it without seeing it.
Every grain of sand and gravel from the fine long halls and snug
chambers Striped Chipmunk has built underground he has carefully carried
in the pockets in his cheeks to the shining mound of yellow gravel found
by Peter Rabbit. Not so much as a grain is dropped on his doorstep to
let his secret out.
So in and out among the little meadow people skips Striped Chipmunk all
the long day, and not one has found out where he lives. But no one
really cares excepting Peter Rabbit, who is still curious.
XIV
JERRY MUSKRAT'S NEW HOUSE
Jerry Muskrat wouldn't play. Billy Mink had tried to get him to. Little
Joe Otter had tried to get him to. The Merry Little Breezes had tried to
get him to. It was of no use, no use at all. Jerry Muskrat wouldn't
play.
"Come on, Jerry, come on play with us," they begged all together.
But Jerry shook his head. "Can't," said he.
"Why not? Won't your mother let you?" demanded Billy Mink, making a long
dive into the Smiling Pool. He was up again in time to hear Jerry
reply:
"Yes, my mother will let me. It isn't that. It's because we are going to
have a long winter and a cold winter and I must prepare for it."
Every one laughed, every one except Grandfather Frog, who sat on his big
green lily-pad watching for foolish green flies.
"Pooh!" exclaimed Little Joe Otter. "A lot you know about it, Jerry
Muskrat! Ho, ho, ho! A lot you know about it! Are you clerk of the
weather? It is only fall now--what can you know about what the winter
will be? Oh come, Jerry Muskrat, don't pretend to be so wise. I can swim
twice across the Smiling Pool while you are swimming across once--come
on!"
Jerry Muskrat shook his head. "Haven't time," said he. "I tell you we
are going to have a long winter and a hard winter, and I've got to
prepare for it. When it comes you'll remember what I have told you."
Little Joe Otter made a wry face and slid down his slippery slide,
splash into the Smiling Pool, throwing water all over Jerry Muskrat, who
was sitting on the end of a log close by. Jerry shook the water from his
coat, which is water-proof, you know. Everybody laughed, that is,
everybody but Grandfather Frog. He did not even smile.
"Chug-a-rum!" said Grandfather Frog, who is very wise. "Jerry Muskrat
knows. If Jerry says that we are going to have a long cold winter you
may be sure that he knows what he is talking about."
Billy Mink turned a back somersault into the Smiling Pool so close to
the big green lily-pad on which Grandfather Frog sat that the waves
almost threw Grandfather Frog into the water.
"Pooh," said Billy Mink, "how can Jerry Muskrat know anything more about
it than we do?"
Grandfather Frog looked at Billy Mink severely. He does not like Billy
Mink, who has been known to gobble up some of Grandfather Frog's
children when he thought that no one was looking.
"Old Mother Nature was here and told him," said Grandfather Frog
gruffly.
"Oh!" exclaimed Billy Mink and Little Joe Otter together. "That's
different," and they looked at Jerry Muskrat with greater respect.
"How are you going to prepare for the long cold winter, Jerry Muskrat?"
asked one of the Merry Little Breezes.
"I'm going to build a house, a big, warm house," replied Jerry Muskrat,
"and I'm going to begin right now."
[Illustration: "I'm going, to build a house," replied Jerry Muskrat.]
Splash! Jerry had disappeared into the Smiling Pool. Presently, over on
the far side where the water was shallow, it began to bubble and boil
as if a great fuss was going on underneath the surface. Jerry Muskrat
had begun work. The water grew muddy, very muddy indeed, so muddy that
Little Joe Otter and Billy Mink climbed out on the Big Rock in disgust.
When finally Jerry Muskrat swam out to rest on the end of a log they
shouted to him angrily.
"Hi, Jerry Muskrat, you're spoiling our swimming water! What are you
doing anyway?"
"I'm digging for the foundations for my new house, and it isn't your
water any more than it's mine," replied Jerry Muskrat, drawing a long
breath before he disappeared under water again.