Bruin tramped along behind her. When they reached her house, old Mother
Red Cap took Bruin, the Bear, out to the barn and showed him the two
little kids. He was in a great hurry to get his paws around them, but,
“Wait,” said Old Mother Red Cap. “First I must give the two little
kids a fine supper that they may be fatter. Go back to the forest for
the night and return in the morning. Then the two little kids will be
fat enough for you to eat.”
So Bruin, the Bear, went back to the forest for the night. Old Mother
Red Cap gave the two little kids a fine, large supper and then she
locked the door of the barn and went to bed. Very early in the morning
she went out to the barn and unlocked the door and let out the two fat
little kids. They scampered off to pasture and were soon so far away
that neither hide nor hoof of them could be seen. Then old Mother Red
Cap locked the door of the barn again.
Almost as soon as the sun was up, Bruin, the Bear, tramped back from
the forest, growling:
“Open the barn door, Mother, that I may eat the two little kids.”
Mother Red Cap stooped down to peep through the key hole of the barn
door. Then she shook her head sadly.
“What a pity it is,” sighed old Mother Red Cap, “that the two little
kids are gone. Can it be that my two mischievous little grandchildren,
Janko and Mirko, unlocked the door and let the kids out?”
At that Bruin, the Bear, was very angry. “Then I must eat your two
little grandchildren, Janko and Mirko,” he growled.
This frightened old Mother Red Cap greatly. She thought and thought,
and then she said: “My two little grandchildren, Janko and Mirko, are
very thin indeed. I must give them three fine meals or they will not be
fat enough for you to eat. In the meantime, do you run about through
the forest to get yourself a better appetite.”
So Bruin, the Bear, went away and ran about in the woods all the rest
of the day. When it was evening he came back with a fine appetite and
rapped at the door of old Mother Red Cap’s house.
“Send out Janko and Mirko,” he growled, “and see what short work I will
make of them.”
“Oho, I’ll not do that,” laughed old Mother Red Cap from inside the
house. “You are too late, Bruin. Janko has just bolted the door so fast
that you will not be able to open it and I have put Mirko to bed, where
he is fast asleep. You must go back to the forest and come some other
day.”
So Bruin, the Bear, saw that old Mother Red Cap had got the best of him
and he went back to the forest, hungry, to look for his supper there.
THE RABBIT WHO WAS AFRAID.
Once upon a time, a very long way from here, a little wild Rabbit sat
under a tall palm tree. All about him were other tall palm trees and
larger animals than he, and the wild rabbit thought and thought. And
after the Rabbit had thought a while he said to himself, “What if the
earth should crack and swallow me up.”
Just then the wind blew a cocoanut down from a tree and it fell upon
the ground right beside the little wild Rabbit. Up he jumped in great
fear for now he was sure that what he had dreaded was happening.
“The earth is cracking,” said the Rabbit, and off he hopped as fast as
he could, never stopping to try and find out what it was that had made
the noise.
As he ran he met his Mother and she said to him, “Why do you run so
fast?”
“The earth is cracking,” said the Rabbit, “and I run that I may not be
swallowed up by it.”
On ran the Rabbit, and his Mother ran with him.
As they ran, they met his Father and he said to the Rabbit, “Why do you
run so fast?”
“The earth is cracking,” said the Rabbit, “and we run that we may not
be swallowed up by it.”
On ran the Rabbit and his Mother, and his Father ran with them.
As they ran they met an Elephant, and he said to the Rabbit, “Why do
you run so fast?”
“The earth is cracking,” said the Rabbit, “and we run that we may not
be swallowed up by it.”
On ran the Rabbit and his Mother and his Father, and the Elephant ran
with them.
As they ran they passed a Deer. “Why do you run so fast?” he asked of
the Rabbit.
“The earth is cracking,” said the Rabbit, “and we run that we may not
be swallowed up by it.”
On ran the Rabbit and his Mother and his Father and the Elephant, and
the Deer ran with them.
As they ran they met a Fox. “Why do you run so fast?” the Fox asked of
the Rabbit.
“The earth is cracking,” said the Rabbit, “and we run that we may not
be swallowed up by it.”
On ran the Rabbit and his Mother and his Father and the Elephant and
the Deer, and the Fox ran with them.
As they ran they met all his Relations, and they said to the Rabbit,
“Why do you run so fast?”
“The earth is cracking,” said the Rabbit, “and we run that we may not
be swallowed up by it.”
On ran the Rabbit and his Mother and his Father and the Elephant and
the Deer and the Fox, and a hundred of his Relations ran with him.
As they ran they came upon the Lion, who is the king of the beasts, and
the Lion said to the Rabbit, “Why do you run so fast?”
“The earth is cracking,” said the Rabbit, “and we run that we may not
be swallowed up by it.”
But the Lion, who is the king of the beasts, did not run. He spoke
again. “Which one of you is it who saw the earth cracking?” he asked,
because he felt sure that there must be some mistake about it.
“It was not I, O King,” replied the Elephant.
“Nor was it I, O King,” said the Deer and the Fox and each of the
Rabbit’s hundred Relations and his Father and his Mother, until all had
spoken except the Rabbit himself.
“Is it true that the earth is cracking?” asked the Lion of the Rabbit.
“It is true, O King,” replied the Rabbit. “I sat under a palm tree
thinking of what would happen to me if the earth were to break up.
Suddenly I heard a loud noise as it cracked.”
[Illustration: “What a foolish Rabbit you are!” said the Lion.]
“Then we must go back and see how wide the crack is,” said the Lion.
“Rabbit, jump upon my back and show me the way.”
So the Rabbit jumped upon the Lion’s back and away they went as fast
as the wind, while the other animals all waited for them. The Rabbit
guided the Lion to the place where he had sat beneath the palm tree,
and the Lion saw the cocoanut lying on the ground.
“What a foolish Rabbit you are!” said the Lion, who is king of all the
beasts. Then he went back to the other beasts and told them that the
earth had not yet cracked.
If it had not been for the Lion they might all have been running until
to-day.
HOW MAPLE SUGAR CAME.
Once upon a time there was a little Indian boy named Son-of-a-Brave. He
was very fond indeed of going to the lodge of the village medicine man.
Here he listened to all the wise stories that the medicine man told
about the forest.
This medicine man was very much thought of by the Indians and they had
made him the best lodge in the village. It stood in that part of the
forest where the trees were stately, and old, and straight. The lodge,
itself, was covered with the most valuable skins. It was filled with
gifts of beads, and drums, and arrow heads, and blankets with pictures
woven in them.
Son-of-a-Brave used to gather some of the herbs that the medicine man
brewed. In return, the Indian boy was allowed to sit inside the lodge,
beside the medicine man’s kettle, and listen to his sayings.
“The Indians have something to learn from every beast, and fish, and
bird of the forest,” the medicine man said one day.
Son-of-a-Brave felt very proud, because his father was one of the big
chiefs of the tribe. He was proud, too, that he, twelve years old,
could shoot an arrow as straight as the young braves. So he found it
hard to understand the medicine man.
“What does the clumsy Bear teach us?” Son-of-a-Brave asked.
“The value of sleep,” replied the medicine man. “You like to sit up
late at night, listening to the talk of your parents around the camp
fire. In the morning you have dull eyes and heavy limbs. The Bear comes
out from her winter sleep ready to rule the den and fight the whole
forest.”
“Well, what does the silly Salmon that hurls himself down the rapids
teach us?” asked Son-of-a-Brave.
“The greatest lesson of all—that home is the best place,” replied the
medicine man. “The Salmon swims far away from home, but always comes
back to the hatching ground through the rapids.”
As Son-of-a-Brave went out through the lodge he was thinking very hard.
There had been one question that he had wanted to ask the medicine man,
but he had not dared, Of what use was the great stupid Woodpecker that
flew from tree to tree? It ran up and down the trunks like a senseless
bird, and pounded like a drum with its huge bill.
There was a Woodpecker now. Son-of-a-Brave could see it, head down,
on the trunk of a tree, making a hole. It wore a bright red cap, and
its black eyes were as bright as those of an Indian. Its big black
claws looked like hands. The boy stopped to watch the odd bird. The
Woodpecker bored awhile, standing on its head. Then it righted itself
and made the hole larger. Last, it put its bill in the hole and pulling
it out, tipped its head back as if it were drinking. This was very
strange.
When the Woodpecker flew away, Son-of-a-Brave went up to the tree, for
he was curious about it. It was still too early in the spring for the
tree to have leaves. There was a little snow left on the ground. But
the boy knew what kind of tree it was by its bark. He could find others
like it all through the woods. He had a very sharp arrow head stuck in
his belt. He took it out and began chipping the hole in the tree trunk
which the Woodpecker had started, until it was larger. To the Indian
boy’s surprise thin sap began to run out of the tree. He put his lips
to the hole.
It was sweet sap—as sweet as wild honey!
Son-of-a-Brave stripped some bark from the tree and made a little cup.
He filled this with the sweet sap and ran from one lodge to another
in the village, asking the braves to taste it. They all said that the
sweet sap was good. All the village followed Son-of-a-Brave back to the
forest, while he pointed out trees like the one which the Woodpecker
had tapped. They bored holes in them, and from each there flowed the
first maple syrup. It proved that the medicine man had been right.
Even the Woodpecker, who worked upside down, could teach the Indians
something.
So the Indians tell us how maple sugar came. But the story tells us
also the great wisdom of our little wild brothers in feathers and fur.
THE RABBIT WHO WANTED RED WINGS.
Once upon a time there was a little white Rabbit with two beautiful
long pink ears, and two bright red eyes, and four soft little
feet—_such_ a pretty little white Rabbit, but he was not happy.
Just think, this little white Rabbit wanted to be somebody else instead
of a rabbit!
When Mr. Bushy Tail, the gray squirrel, went by, the little white
Rabbit would say to his Mammy:
“Oh, Mammy, I wish I had a long gray tail like Mr. Bushy Tail’s.”
And when Mr. Porcupine went by, the little white Rabbit would say to
his Mammy:
“Oh, Mammy, I wish I had a back full of bristles like Mr. Porcupine’s.”
And when Miss Puddle-Duck went by in her two little red rubbers, the
little white Rabbit would say:
“Oh, Mammy, I wish I had a pair of red rubbers like Miss
Puddle-Duck’s.”
So he went on and on wishing until his Mammy was all tired out with his
wishing and Old Mr. Ground Hog heard him one day.
Old Mr. Ground Hog is very wise indeed, so he said to the little white
Rabbit:
“Why don’t you go down to the Wishing Pond? If you look in the water
at yourself and turn around three times in a circle you will get your
wish.”
So the little white Rabbit went off, all alone by himself, through the
woods until he came to a little pool of green water lying in a low tree
stump. That was the Wishing Pond. There was a little, little bird, all
red, sitting on the edge of the Wishing Pond to get a drink, and as
soon as the little white Rabbit saw him he began to wish again.
“Oh, I wish I had a pair of little red wings!” he said. Just then he
looked in the Wishing Pond and he saw his little white face. Then he
turned around three times and something happened. He began to have a
queer feeling in his shoulders, like the feeling in his mouth when he
was cutting his teeth. It was his wings coming through. So he sat all
day in the woods by the Wishing Pond waiting for them to grow, and by
and by, when it was almost sundown, he started home to see his Mammy
and show her. He had a beautiful pair of long, trailing red wings.
But by the time he reached home it was getting dark. When he went in
the hole at the foot of the big tree where he lived, his Mammy didn’t
know him. No, she really and truly did not know him, because she had
never seen a rabbit with red wings in all her life. And so the little
white Rabbit had to go out again, because his Mammy wouldn’t let him
get into his own bed. He had to go out and look for some place to sleep
all night.
He went and went until he came to Mr. Bushy Tail’s house, and he rapped
on the door and said:
“Please, kind Mr. Bushy Tail, may I sleep in your house all night?”
But Mr. Bushy Tail opened his door a crack and then he slammed it
tight shut again. You see he had never seen a rabbit with red wings in
all his life.
So the little white Rabbit went and went until he came to Miss
Puddle-Duck’s nest down by the marsh, and he said:
“Please, kind Miss Puddle-Duck, may I sleep in your nest all night?”
Miss Puddle-Duck poked her head up out of her nest just a little way.
Then she shut her eyes and stretched her wings out so far that she
covered her whole nest.
You see she had never seen a white rabbit with red wings in all her
life.
So the little white Rabbit went and went until he came to Old Mr.
Ground Hog’s hole and Old Mr. Ground Hog let him sleep with him all
night, but the hole had beech nuts spread all over it. Old Mr. Ground
Hog liked to sleep on them, but they hurt the little white Rabbit’s
feet and made him very uncomfortable before morning.
When it came morning, the little white Rabbit decided to try his wings
and fly a little. He climbed up on a hill, and spread his wings, and
sailed off, but he landed in a low bush all full of prickles. There his
four feet got mixed up with the twigs so he couldn’t get down.
“Mammy, Mammy, Mammy, come and help me!” he called.
His Mammy didn’t hear him, but old Mr. Ground Hog did. He came and
helped the little white Rabbit out of the prickly bush.
“Don’t you want your red wings?” Mr. Ground Hog asked.
“No, _no_!” said the little white Rabbit.
“Well,” said the Old Ground Hog, “why don’t you go down to the Wishing
Pond and wish them _off_ again?”
So the little white Rabbit went down to the Wishing Pond and he saw his
face in it. Then he turned around three times, and, sure enough, his
red wings were gone. Then he went home to his Mammy, who knew him right
away and was so glad to see him. And he never, _never_ wished again to
be something different from what he really was.
HOW THE FIRST MAYFLOWERS CAME.
Once upon a time everything in the woods was covered deep with snow,
the berries, the juicy young bushes, and the roots. The animals had
stowed themselves away for the winter to sleep; the bear in a deep
cave, the chipmunk in a hollow log, and the wild mouse in a cozy hole
beneath the roots of a tree. The wind sang a high, shrill song in the
tops of the pine trees, and the doors of the wigwams were shut tight.
But the door of Son-of-a-Brave’s wigwam suddenly opened a little way
and the Indian boy, himself, looked out. He had his bow and a newly
tipped arrow in his hands.
While the snow and the ice had been piling up outside in the Indian
village, Son-of-a-Brave had been very busy. He had been working beside
the home fire making his new arrow head. First, he had gone to the
wigwam of the village arrow maker to ask him for a good piece of stone.
The arrow maker had been good enough to give Son-of-a-Brave a piece
of beautiful white quartz. Then Son-of-a-Brave had set to work on it.
He had shaped it with a big horn knife and chipped it with a hammer.
He had polished it in a dish of sand until it shone like one of the
icicles outside. Then he had fitted it to a strong arrow and wished
that he had a chance to shoot. That was why Son-of-a-Brave stood at the
door of the wigwam, looking out across the snow. Not even a deer had
tracked it because the winter was so cold.
All at once Son-of-a-Brave saw something. An old Hare came out of a
snow bank and limped down the path that led by the wigwam. In the
summer the Hare was gray, the color of the trees among which he lived.
But in the winter he turned white so as not to be seen by hunters when
he went along through the snow. He did not care now whether any one saw
him or not. He was a very old Hare, and the winter was too hard for
him. He was lame and hungry and half frozen. He stopped right in front
of Son-of-a-Brave and sat up on his haunches, his ears drooping.
“Don’t shoot me,” he was trying to say. “I am at your mercy, too
starved to run away from you.”
Son-of-a-Brave slipped his newly tipped arrow in his bow and aimed at
the old Hare. It would be very easy indeed to shoot him, for the Hare
did not move. The boy thought what a warm pair of moccasin tops his
skin would make. Then Son-of-a-Brave took his arrow out again, for
another thought had come to him. He knew that he would be a coward to
shoot a Hare that was too weak to run away.
The boy stooped down and picked up the old Hare. He wrapped him close
up to his own warm body in his blanket. Then he went with him through
the snow of the woods until they came to a place where a stream ran.
There were young willow trees growing along the edge. Here he set down
the Hare. He began to dig away the ice and frozen earth with his
new arrow tip, until the roots of the trees and the soft bark could
be seen. How the Hare did eat these! Son-of-a-Brave left him, still
eating, and went home.
The Indian boy did not see the Hare again that winter. He knew that
he had dug a large enough hole so that the Hare could find shelter
and have enough food. His bow and arrow were hung on the wall, and
Son-of-a-Brave sat by the fire with his mother and father until spring
came.
One day a bird sang out in the forest. Then the streams began to sing.
The moss made a carpet all over the ground outside of the wigwam.
Son-of-a-Brave felt like running and shouting. He left off his blanket
and went out into the woods to play.
[Illustration: Oh, what did the boy see there!]
He had scarcely gone a rod from the wigwam when he saw a large gray
Hare following him. This was strange for hares usually ran away.
Son-of-a-Brave waited, and the Hare came close to him. Then he saw,
because it limped, that it was the old Hare that he had befriended in
the winter. He was now fat and well fed, and dressed in his summer
coat.
The Hare flopped his ears to Son-of-a-Brave and hopped a little way
ahead, so the boy followed. The Hare went on, without stopping, until
he came to the very spot beside the stream where Son-of-a-Brave had dug
away the snow to give the Hare food.
Oh, what did the boy see there!
Blossoming out of the bare earth were beautiful flowers, as white
outside as a hare’s ears in the winter time, and pink inside, like
their lining. They had a sweet perfume, different from anything that
had grown in the woods before. The grateful Hare stood beside them. He
seemed to say that these new flowers were his gift to the boy who had
helped him.
The Indians say that those were the first Mayflowers. They say the
Mayflowers have been blossoming in the woods ever since because the
Hare brought them out of thankfulness to Son-of-a-Brave.
HOW THE RABBIT TRIED TO COAST.
Once upon a time, the Rabbit lived in the woods in a lodge with his
old grandmother. Summer was a fat time for the two, but things went
very badly with them in the winter. Then, ice and snow covered up the
berries, and there were no juicy, green shoots to be had.
The Rabbit might have hunted, or gone to a field and dug down through
the snow to find some buried ears of grain. But he was a lazy young
fellow and disliked the cold. His grandmother had a hard time filling
the dinner pot, and their cupboard shelves were more often empty than
full.
The Rabbit wished very much that he might find some easy way of making
a living in the winter. With this thought in mind he went one frosty
day to the lodge of the Otter, just before dinner time.
The Otter lived in a lonely wigwam by the side of a river. It was quite
a long distance from the regular camp of the animals. But the Otter
seemed to be well fed and to have no trouble in getting his dinner. The
Rabbit watched him.
The Otter put his dinner pot full of water over the fire. Then he took
his fish line and hooks and went outside. He had built a long, smooth
ice slide that went from his door down the bank of the river. He slid
down this, diving into the water through a little hole in the ice. In
a very short time the Otter was up again, and carried a long string of
fat eels up to the bank to his lodge. He popped these into his dinner
pot and invited the Rabbit to stay and share the feast with him.
It was the first hot meal that the Rabbit had eaten in a long while.
Instead of saving some of the food for his grandmother, he ate of it
greedily. He tried to think how he could imitate his friend’s way of
getting a living. He was off as soon as dinner was over, for he had a
plan in his head.
As soon as the Rabbit reached his lodge, he told his grandmother to put
on her blanket and tie the kitchen pots together with a piece of deer
thong. He said that they were going to move. She begged him to think it
over. It was deep winter, she told him, and she, herself, was an old
rabbit. But the Rabbit took down the lodge poles while she was talking,
and they started away through the forest to the river beside which the
Otter lived. He set up his lodge on the opposite bank from that of the
Otter. As the weather was crisp and cold, the Rabbit had no trouble at
all in making an ice slide from his door to the river, just like the
Otter’s slide.
Then the Rabbit told his grandmother to build a fire, and hang the
dinner pot, and make ready for a great feast. He had invited the Otter
to take dinner with him. The Rabbit’s grandmother threw up her paws.
“What shall I cook?” she asked. “There is no food of any kind in the
house.”
“I will attend to all that,” the Rabbit said. Then he started out with
his fishing line to catch a mess of eels as the Otter had.
He stood a moment at the top of his ice slide, and then he started
down it. But, oh, it was hard for the Rabbit, who was used to hopping,
to keep a straight course on the ice. He went from one side to the
other, and then turned head over heels, growing quite dizzy. Then he
struck the ice cold water, and went under, numb with cold. He did not
know how to swim a stroke. He was almost drowned before he rose to the
surface and was able to cling to a cake of ice. From this he struggled
over to the bank. He crawled up wet, his teeth chattering, and his fur
freezing all over in tiny icicles.
The Otter had come across the river to the Rabbit’s dinner party and he
stood laughing on the bank as he saw the Rabbit.
“What ails him?” the Otter asked of the Rabbit’s grandmother.
“He saw somebody fishing,” she explained, “and he tried to do the same.
He never thinks for himself.”
The Otter laughed harder than before, as they helped the Rabbit into
the lodge and warmed him beside the fire. Then the Otter caught a
mess of eels. The Rabbit’s grandmother cooked them, and they had quite
a merry dinner after all. But the Rabbit was very much ashamed of
himself. He learned how to hunt in a rabbit’s way, after that, and took
good care of his grandmother all the rest of the winter.
WHY THE FIELD MOUSE IS LITTLE.
Once upon a time, before there were any big folks, or any real houses
in the world, the little First Man, and the little First Woman lived in
a tiny lodge on the banks of a big river. They were the only people in
the whole world, and they were very, very small, not any larger than
your finger.
They ate wild gooseberries, and twin berries, and black caps. One berry
made a very fine meal for them.
The little First Woman took very good care of the little First Man.
She made him a beautiful green bow and arrow from a blade of grass,
with which he could hunt crickets and grasshoppers. From the skin
of a humming bird she made him a most beautiful hunting coat, all
embroidered and jeweled with bits of gay shells and shining particles
of sand.
One day the little First Man was out hunting and he grew very weary,
wading through the deep grass, so he laid him down beneath a clover
leaf and fell fast asleep. A storm came up, and the thunder roared and
the lightning flashed, but it did not waken the little First Man. Then
the sun shone, warm, as it does in hot countries, and the little First
Man awoke. Alas, where was his gay little hunting coat? The rain had
soaked it, and the sun had scorched it, and it had fallen to pieces,
and dropped quite off the little First Man.
Then he was very angry and he shook his fist at the great sun. “It is
all your fault,” he cried. “I will pull you down from the sky.”