to frighten the Hobyahs away. They tore down the hemp stalks, they took
the little old woman away in their bag, but the little old man they
could not get, for he hid himself under the bed.
Then the Hobyahs hung the bag which held the little old woman up in
their house, and they poked it with their fingers, and they cried:
“Look you! Look you!”
But when it came daylight, they went to sleep, for Hobyahs, you know,
sleep all day.
The little old man was very sorry when he found that the little old
woman was gone. He knew then what a good little dog Turpie had been to
guard the house at night, so he brought Turpie’s tail, and his legs,
and his head, and gave them back to him again.
Then Turpie went sniffing and snuffing along to find the little old
woman, and soon came to the Hobyahs’ house. He heard the little old
woman crying in the bag, and he saw that the Hobyahs were all fast
asleep. So he went inside.
Then he cut open the bag with his sharp teeth, and the little old woman
hopped out and ran home; but Turpie got inside the bag to hide.
When it came night, the Hobyahs woke up, and they went to the bag, and
they poked it with their long fingers, crying:
“Look you! Look you!”
But out of the bag jumped little dog Turpie, and he ate every one of
the Hobyahs. And that is why there are not any Hobyahs now.
THE KID WHO WOULD NOT GO.
Once upon a time I was walking across London Bridge, and I found a
penny. So I bought a little kid. But the kid would not go. And I saw
by the moonlight it was long past midnight. It was time kid and I were
home an hour and a half ago.
Then I met a staff, and to the staff I said:
“Staff, staff, drive kid. I see by the moonlight it is long past
midnight. It is time kid and I were home an hour and a half ago.”
But the staff would not drive kid.
Then I met a hatchet, and to the hatchet I said:
“Hatchet, chop staff, staff will not drive kid. I see by the moonlight
it is long past midnight. It is time kid and I were home an hour and a
half ago.”
But the hatchet would not chop staff.
Then I met a torch, and to the torch I said:
“Torch, burn hatchet, hatchet will not chop staff, staff will not drive
kid. I see by the moonlight it is long past midnight. It is time kid
and I were home an hour and a half ago.”
But the torch would not burn the hatchet.
Then I met the wind, and to the wind I said:
“Wind, put out torch, torch will not burn hatchet, hatchet will not
chop staff, staff will not drive kid. I see by the moonlight it is long
past midnight. It is time kid and I were home an hour and a half ago.”
But the wind would not put out the fire.
Then I met a tree, and to the tree I said:
“Tree, stop wind, wind will not put out torch, torch will not burn
staff, staff will not drive kid. I see by the moonlight it is long past
midnight. It is time kid and I were home an hour and a half ago.”
But the tree would not.
Then I met a wee mouse, and to the mouse I said:
“Mouse, gnaw tree, tree will not stop wind, wind will not put out
torch, torch will not burn staff, staff will not drive kid. I see by
the moonlight it is long past midnight. It is time kid and I were home
an hour and a half ago.”
Then the wee, wee mouse began to gnaw the tree, the tree began to stop
the wind, the wind began to put out the torch, the torch began to burn
the staff, the staff began to drive the kid, and the kid began to go.
See by the moonlight it is almost midnight. But kid and I were home an
hour and a half ago.
THE ROBIN’S CHRISTMAS SONG.
Once upon a time there was an old gray Pussy and she was down by the
waterside when the trees and ground were white with snow. And there she
saw a wee, wee Robin Redbreast hopping upon a branch, so Pussy said to
him:
“Where are you going, Robin Redbreast, this frosty Yuletide weather?”
Then the wee, wee Robin said to the Pussy, “I am going to the King to
sing him a song this good Yule morning.”
And the gray Pussy replied, “Go not yet. Come here, Robin Redbreast,
and I will let you see the bonny white necklace I wear around my neck.”
But the wee, wee Robin said, “No, no, gray Pussy. You may show the
bonny white necklace that you wear around your neck to the little mice,
but not to me.”
[Illustration: “Where are you going, Robin Redbreast?”]
Then off flew the wee, wee Robin until he came to a wall of turf and
there he saw a greedy Hawk sitting and watching to see what small
birds passed by. And the greedy Hawk called to him and said, “Where are
you going, Robin Redbreast, this frosty Yuletide weather?”
Then the wee, wee Robin said to the Hawk, “I am going to the King to
sing him a song this good Yule morning.”
And the greedy Hawk replied, “Go not yet. Come here, Robin Redbreast,
and I’ll let you see a bonny green feather that I wear in my wing.”
But the wee, wee Robin said, “No, no, greedy Hawk. You have pecked all
the tiny birds but you’ll not peck me.”
Then off flew the wee, wee Robin until he came to a hollow in the
hillside and there he saw a sly Fox sitting. The sly Fox saw Robin
and called to him, “Where are you going, Robin Redbreast, this frosty
Yuletide weather?”
Then the wee, wee Robin said to the Fox, “I am going to the King to
sing him a song this good Yule morning.”
And the sly Fox replied, “Go not yet. Come here, Robin Redbreast, and
I will show you a bonny spot on the tip of my tail.”
But the wee, wee Robin said, “No, no, sly Fox. You may show the bonny
spot on the tip of your tail to the lambs but not to me.”
Then off flew the wee, wee Robin until he came to a little shepherd Lad
sitting beside his cot. The little shepherd Lad saw Robin and called
to him, “Where are you going, Robin Redbreast, this frosty Yuletide
weather?”
Then the wee, wee Robin said to the shepherd Lad, “I am going to the
King to sing him a song this good Yule morning.”
And the shepherd Lad replied, “Go not yet. Come here and I will give
you some crumbs from my pouch.”
But the wee, wee Robin said, “No, no, little shepherd Lad. You caught
the goldfinch but you’ll not catch me.”
Then off flew the wee, wee Robin until he came to the King, and he sat
down upon a plowshare just outside of the King’s window, and he sang
him a pretty song because it was such a good Yule morning. The King
was very much pleased indeed and he said to the Queen, “What shall we
give the wee, wee Robin Redbreast for singing us such a pretty song?”
The Queen thought and thought and at last she decided. “I think we will
give the wee, wee Robin Redbreast a wee Wren to be his wife,” the Queen
said to the King.
So the wee, wee Robin Redbreast and the wee Wren were married and the
King, and the Queen, and all the court, and the whole countryside
danced at their wedding. And after the wedding the two flew home to the
Robin’s own waterside.
THE STORY OF IBBITY.
Once upon a time there was a little brown boy named Ibbity. He lived in
a warm country where there are jungles and tigers and sandy deserts.
Now Ibbity was always wondering about things, and one day he said to
his mother:
“I wonder, oh, I do wonder what is the strongest thing in the world.”
But his mother could not tell him, so Ibbity started off by himself to
find out.
He went a long, long way, and at last he came to a tree. Up the tree
climbed Ibbity and looked abroad over the jungle and the desert for
something very big and strong. But just then the top of the tree broke.
Bump, down fell little Ibbity to the ground.
“Oh, Tree, you are the strongest thing, are you not?” cried Ibbity,
sitting up and rubbing his head. “You are able to throw Ibbity to the
ground.”
“No, I am not as strong as the wind,” sighed the tree, “it was the
wind that broke my branch.”
Then Ibbity ran far away to the place where the wind was blowing the
sand in the desert, and he said:
“Oh, Wind, the tree threw Ibbity, but you broke the tree. Are you not
the strongest one?”
“No, I am not the strongest one,” said the wind, “the hill is able to
stop my blowing.”
So Ibbity ran on and on, until he came to a high hill, and to the hill
he said:
“Oh, Hill, the tree threw Ibbity, and the wind broke the tree, but you
are able to stop the wind. Are you not the strongest one?”
“Not I,” said the hill. “At my feet lives a small mouse. She is cutting
a tunnel straight through me.”
So Ibbity went down the hill, and looked around in the bushes until he
found a small brown mouse. To the mouse he said:
“O Mouse, the tree threw Ibbity, the wind broke the tree, and the hill
can stop the wind, but you have dug a tunnel through the hill. Are you
not the strongest one?”
“No,” said the mouse. “Cannot the tiger catch me?”
So Ibbity traveled to the jungle, where the tiger lives, and he said:
“Oh, Tiger, the tree threw Ibbity, the wind broke the tree, the hill is
able to stop the wind, and the mouse has dug a tunnel through the hill,
but you can catch the mouse. Are you not the strongest one?”
But the tiger was caught fast in a net, and he said to Ibbity:
“No, this rope is stronger than I.”
And Ibbity said to the rope:
“Oh, Rope, the tree threw Ibbity, the wind broke the tree, the hill can
stop the wind, the mouse has dug a tunnel under the hill, the tiger is
able to catch the mouse, but you have caught the tiger. Are you not the
strongest one?”
“No,” said the rope, “for the fire burns me.”
So Ibbity ran and ran until he came to a fire, and to the fire he said:
“Oh, Fire, the tree threw Ibbity, the wind broke the tree, the hill
stops the wind, the mouse tunnels the hill, the tiger catches the
mouse, the rope catches the tiger, but you are able to burn the rope.
Are you not the strongest one?”
“No,” said the fire, “my heat is less than that of the great sun.”
Then Ibbity looked up at the sky, and he called loudly to the sun:
“Oh, great Sun, the tree threw Ibbity, the wind broke the tree, the
hill stops the wind, the mouse tunnels the hill, the tiger catches the
mouse, the rope catches the tiger, the fire burns the rope, but your
heat is greater than that of the fire. Are you not the strongest one?”
Then the sun winked its large yellow eye at Ibbity, and never a word
did it say, for it was too far off to hear Ibbity’s little voice.
So Ibbity clapped his hands and cried, “I have found the strongest one.
It is the sun.”
And little Ibbity went home again to tell his mother.
THE CHIPMUNK WHO CHATTERED TOO MUCH.
Once upon a time, when Indians and animals lived together in the same
forest and animals could speak, the Chipmunk was the greatest talker of
them all.
He lived in a lodge in the middle of the woods with his grandfather who
was very old and wise as well. But the Chipmunk was young, and very
daring. He was able to run so fast and climb trees, and jump from one
branch to another that he thought nothing in the world could harm him.
He had a louder voice then than he has now. He chattered all day long,
boasting about himself. At last he became very tiresome to the other
animals.
They came at last and spoke to the Chipmunk’s grandfather about him.
“Your grandson chatters so loudly,” scolded the Blue Jay, “that the
birds are not able to hear me when I warn them of danger in the
forest.”
And the Frog came to the Chipmunk’s grandfather with tears in his eyes.
“Your grandson chatters so loudly,” croaked the Frog, “that no one can
hear me when I sing on the edge of the stream in the evening.”
It was quite true. The Chipmunk talked and boasted all the time. He
chattered as he started out from his lodge in the morning and all the
way down the path to let every one know that he was on his way. He
chattered when he came to a nut tree and when he picked up some nuts.
He had pockets in his cheeks, so he could chatter even when he came
home with a mouthful of nuts. There seemed to be no way of keeping this
young Chipmunk quiet, and at last his grandfather decided to speak to
him about it.
“You are not using your voice as it was meant that you should, my son,”
said the Chipmunk’s grandfather. “All the creatures in feathers and fur
in the forest speak for a reason. The Ground Hog whistles to call his
young, and the Frog croaks when wild beasts creep toward the lodges,
and the Robin sings of rain. But you, my son, chatter for no reason
except your foolish pride. Beware! the Great Chief will hear you and
catch you some day if you do not stop!”
The Chipmunk thought that night of what his grandfather had said.
But when morning came, he forgot all about it and took his noisy way
through the woods again. He made just as much noise as he could, even
after he had reached a hickory-nut tree, and climbed up among the
branches.
Suddenly, though, he was still. He heard the leaves on the ground
rustle and the twigs crackle with heavy footsteps. Peering down between
the branches, the Chipmunk saw the Great Chief of whom his grandfather
had warned him. He looked as tall as a young tree and as dark as a
thunder cloud. He carried a long bow and a quiver of arrows. He had
come for the Chipmunk, and he waited under the tree, looking up among
the branches to see when he should come down.
But the leaves on the branches hid the Chipmunk. He gathered a handful
of nuts and tossed them down. The Great Chief was thrown off his guard
by the trick. He jumped, thinking it was the Chipmunk, but the little
fellow scampered down the other side of the tree. He got home to his
lodge in safety.
The next day the Chipmunk was even more noisy than ever as he started
out. He reached a tree, climbed up in it, and again the Great Chief
came with his bow and arrows to kill the chattering little pest. But
the Chipmunk gathered a handful of twigs which he threw down at the
feet of the Great Chief.
“Here I come,” the Chipmunk chattered. As the Great Chief watched to
see him follow the twigs he dropped down on the other side of the tree
and once more reached home safe.
When the Chipmunk started out the third morning he had a great piece of
news to tell the whole world. He told it just as loudly as he could.
“The Great Chief can’t catch me. He can’t catch me,” boasted the
Chipmunk.
He kept on chattering this after he had scampered up a tree, and a very
bold plan entered his head.
The Great Chief came at last. He strode angrily until he came to the
tree where the Chipmunk sat looking down at him.
“Come down! Come down from this tree!” called the Great Chief in a loud
voice.
That was just what the Chipmunk planned to do. He was going to come
down and dare the Great Chief to catch him. He felt that he would be
safe in doing this. So the Chipmunk came down and stood a second,
chattering to the Great Chief, who was so surprised that he did not
move at first.
Then the Chipmunk ran and the Great Chief ran after him. It was a race
for life, the Chipmunk soon found out, for the Great Chief gained at
every step. The Chipmunk leaped and jumped, and panted for breath. On,
and on they went, in and out among the trees. The Chipmunk lost his
loud voice in fear and no other member of the family has had such a
loud one since that day. He could see his lodge with his grandfather
waiting for him in the door, but it did not seem possible that he could
reach it.
Oh, there he was at the door; but just as he went inside the Great
Chief took hold of the Chipmunk with his strong fingers. Although the
Chipmunk pulled himself loose, he had a row of long white stripes on
his back where the Great Chief had clutched him.
And every other Chipmunk, since then, has had white stripes on his
back, because of the first Chipmunk who chattered too much.
HOW THE SQUIRREL GOT WINGS.
Once upon a time the Indians tell us that the Manito was the good
spirit of the woods. He taught every wild creature, bird, beast, or
fish its own special work. It was then that the Beaver learned how to
be a mason, and the Oriole to be a weaver. The Mole learned how to dig
long, secret tunnels although he was blind. The Spider was taught to
spin and the Bee to make honey.
Then, too, the Manito made the Squirrel the little harvester of the
woods, gathering nuts in the fall and digging holes in the earth in
which to bury them for the winter. It was planned that the Squirrel
should be an example to man of the wisdom of working while others
feasted. He gathered food for the days when the wind would howl and the
snow drift about his lodge. So the Squirrel spent his days looking for
nuts and laying them away for cold weather. With him went his friend,
the Woodchuck.
In those days, the Woodchuck ate nuts, and as his legs were short
and his feet flat he could not climb trees. His feet were shaped like
shovels. He used them for digging himself a little house in the side of
a hill where he planned to sleep through the winter until spring should
come. But he was very fond of nuts. His friend, the Squirrel, was good
enough to take him about the woods and show him the places where nuts
were scattered on the ground. The Squirrel gave him half of all the
nuts there were. The Woodchuck cracked these with his sharp teeth and
ate them all.
The Manito was apt to walk through the forest at night to see if
everything was safe. He wished, too, to see if his little wild children
had done their work during the day. One evening in the late fall the
Manito went through the forest in the form of a night wind. He looked
in the door of the Woodchuck’s house in the side of the hill. It was
empty!
Taking his way through the trees the Manito saw a little creature in a
gray fur blanket creeping softly along from one spot to another. He
had short legs, and feet shaped like shovels. It was the Woodchuck. As
he came to a place for which he had been looking, the Woodchuck would
dig deep down in the earth with his paws. He would bring up a store of
nuts and carry them back to his hole in the side of the hill.
“This is not as it should be,” the Manito thought. “I did not plan that
my son, the Woodchuck, should harvest at night. Nor did I decree that
he should gather nuts.”
Then it came to the mind of the Manito what the Woodchuck was up to!
The next night the Manito had a council fire in the woods and bade all
the wild creatures to come to it. He, himself, dressed in fine blankets
and feathers like an Indian Chief, sat on a rock before the fire. All
his sons, the Squirrel, the Beaver, the Wolf, the Deer, the Otter,
the Fox, and the rest, sat in a circle around the fire. There was one
vacant place, though. The Woodchuck had not yet come.
At the time for the council to open, the Manito stood up and spoke.
“We are gathered here as a court of law,” he said. “I have learned
that my thrifty son, the Squirrel, has been the victim of a thief. He
has been busy and saving, as I have taught him to be. He has done his
harvesting for the winter. But while he slept a friend robbed him of
his nuts. What shall we do to such a false friend?”
“Drown him!” said the Beaver.
“Starve him!” said the Otter.
“Eat him!” barked the Fox and the Wolf.
“Who is he?” asked the gentle Deer.
Just then the Woodchuck tried to slip into his place in the circle
without being seen. He had a nut in his mouth so that every one knew
at once that he was the thief. He was the false friend of the thrifty
Squirrel! The animals rose in a body and would have torn the Woodchuck
to pieces at once, or thrown him into the fire. But the Manito raised
his hand to quiet them. Then he called the Woodchuck and the Squirrel
to come to his side.
“I gave you a place to harvest, in the corn field,” the Manito said to
the Woodchuck. “And I gave you a friend who was good enough to share
his nuts with you because you are so fond of them. You have disobeyed
me, and stolen from your friend. As a punishment I will take out your
sharp teeth so that you can never crack a nutshell again. You shall
have grinding teeth, for eating only corn.”
Then the Manito asked the Squirrel to come closer to him, and he
fitted a pair of wings to his back. “These wings are a reward for your
industry,” he said, “and to help you gather another harvest in place of
that which the Woodchuck stole from you.”
From the night of that council fire to the present time the Woodchuck
has eaten only grains and vegetables. And there have been flying
squirrels because of the first Woodchuck who stole from his friend.
HOW THEY BROUGHT HAIRLOCK HOME.
Once upon a time, at the foot of a hill, there lived little Boots and
his mother and their nanny goat, who was named Hairlock. Now Hairlock
loved to run away over the hill to the mountain, and she could never be
found when milking time came at night.
One day Boots was ready with his pail and his milking stool, and he
called, “Hairlock, Hairlock, come home to Boots,” but Hairlock did not
come.
Then Boots’s mother climbed to the top of the hill, and she looked, and
she looked, and there she spied Hairlock on the top of a crag, a long
way off.
“Naughty Hairlock,” she cried, “come home to Boots. Boots, run to
Reynard, the fox, and tell him to bite Hairlock.”
So Boots ran to Reynard, the fox, and he said:
“Good Reynard, bite my nanny goat, Hairlock, who stands on the top of
yonder crag, and will not come home to be milked.”
But Reynard said, “Not I, Boots; I’ll not dull my teeth on old
Hairlock’s skin, for I hunt to-night. Another time, Boots, another
time.”
And Boots went back and told his mother what Reynard had said.
“Then go to Greylegs, the wolf, Boots,” said his mother, “and tell him
to bark at naughty Hairlock.”
So Boots ran to Greylegs the wolf, and he said:
“Good Greylegs, bark at my nanny goat, Hairlock, who stands on the top
of yonder crag, and will not come home to be milked.”
But Greylegs said, “Some other time, Boots, some other time. The night
is cold. I must stay at home and sleep and cover my cubs.”
And Boots went back and told his mother what Greylegs had said.
“Then go to Bruin, the bear,” said his mother, “and bid him chase
naughty Hairlock.”
So Boots ran to Bruin, the bear, and he said:
“Good Bruin, chase my nanny goat, Hairlock, who stands on the top of
yonder crag, and will not come home to be milked.”
But Bruin said, “Ah, Boots, I am much too fat to chase Hairlock. Go to
the fir tree and ask him to trap Hairlock.”
So Boots ran to the fir tree, and he said:
“Good Fir Tree, trap my nanny goat, Hairlock, who stands on the top of
yonder crag, and will not come home to be milked.”
But the fir tree only bent and swayed in the wind, and said, “Ask the
woodcutter to fell me, Boots.”
So Boots ran to the woodcutter, and he said:
“Good Woodcutter, fell the fir tree, that he may trap my nanny goat,
Hairlock, who stands at the top of yonder crag, and will not come home
to be milked.”
But the woodcutter said, “Ask the joiner if he will buy my wood, Boots.”
So Boots went to the joiner, and he said:
“Good Joiner, will you buy wood from the woodcutter, that he may fell
the fir tree? Then the fir tree will trap my nanny goat, Hairlock, who
stands at the top of yonder crag and will not come home to be milked.”
“That I will, Boots,” said the joiner.
Then the woodcutter felled the fir tree and gave the wood to the
joiner. The joiner took the wood and made a strong yoke, which he gave
to Boots.
Then Boots and his mother ran to the top of the crag and put the yoke
on Hairlock.
And that is how they brought Hairlock home.
THE BEAR WHO LOST HIS SUPPER.
Once upon a time old Mother Red Cap was out walking in the forest and
she came to a wild cherry tree, the branches of which hung low with
cherries. She climbed up the tree to pick her apron full of cherries
when along came Bruin, the Bear, walking under the tree. He looked up
among the branches and there he saw old Mother Red Cap.
“Come down, Mother,” he growled, “that I may eat you.” Old Mother Red
Cap did not want to be eaten by Bruin, the Bear, so she thought, and
thought, and then she said:
“You do not want to eat an old woman like me. I will throw you down my
shoe and you may gnaw upon that until I can come down to the ground and
lead you to my house. I have two little kids there who will make you a
savory meal. Have patience, Bruin, until I can climb down.”
This was what old Mother Red Cap said, and she threw down her shoe.
Bruin gnawed and gnawed upon the shoe, but he found it very dry
eating, so he grew angry. He called up the tree to old Mother Red Cap:
“Come down, Mother, that I may eat you.”
“Just wait a little longer, Bruin, until I have gathered a few more
cherries,” said she, and she threw down her other shoe. “Gnaw on this,”
she said, “and I will climb down in a few minutes and show you the way
to my house.”
Bruin gnawed upon the second shoe but he found it no better than the
first. But he contented himself with the thought of the two little kids
that he would soon be eating, and he waited beneath the tree until old
Mother Red Cap climbed down.