with the young Miss 'Possums of our section. They went crazy over him,
and of course that made all the young Mr. 'Possums jealous of him,
though they would have given anything to be like him. They knew they
couldn't be that, so they hoped something would happen to him, and used
to tell him of nice new an interesting walks to take when they thought
Mr. Painter might be in that neighborhood. Then they would follow, and
hide around in the bushes and watch, expecting some time to see Mr.
Painter get his claws into that curly blond duster before Somers could
reach a limb, or shake him down afterward.
"Well, just as they expected, one day when Somers went out for a little
promenade alone Mr. Painter happened along, but Somers saw him first,
and made for a tree, with Mr. Painter after him, reaching for that fine
plume and just missing it, as the handsome stranger went up the tree and
out on a limb, with Mr. Painter right behind and making very savage
noises. Then he began shaking the limb as hard as he could, and my
ancestors, who were watching from quite a safe place, thought Somers
would drop pretty soon, for they didn't think he could be trained to
holding on--such a fine person as he was.
"So they watched, very hopeful, and sure enough, about the third hard
shake Somers dropped--just let go with his hands and feet, and rolled
off, almost as if he really didn't care. My ancestors said that was what
it looked like, and that was what it was. Somers didn't care at all, for
when he let go and dropped, he didn't fall, but just swung off into
space, and stayed attached to that limb, hanging head down, by his tail!
[Illustration: CALLING OUT, "MUCH OBLIGED, MR. PAINTER"]
"My ancestors had never been so astonished in their lives, nor Mr.
Painter, either. He couldn't believe it. He thought at first Somers had
got caught, somehow, and gave one more shake, but when Somers swung back
and forth, laughing and calling out, 'Much obliged, Mr. Painter--much
obliged for the nice swing!' Mr. Painter climbed down and took out for
home as hard as he could, without looking behind him, for he thought it
was some kind of magic. And pretty soon Somers climbed down, too, and
brushed himself off a little, and fixed his tail in a nice position, and
walked along, smiling; and my ancestors hurried to him and said they had
just arrived in time to witness his great performance, and begged him to
show them how he did it, and offered him anything if he would only teach
them to handle those useless ornaments of theirs in that grand way.
"So then Somers told them all about it. He said he was the inventor of
the idea, and of the medicine that made it work. He said he was very
soon going back to his own people, but before he went he would make up
some medicine, which would make their hair and tails both curl, and
would explain how to take it.
"Well, they were so anxious about it that he began next morning, and
sent out different ones for different things--special kinds of roots,
and several sorts of very twisty things, such as grape-vine clingers,
and honeysuckle, and a great lot of love-vine--that yellow stuff that
winds about everything and can choke even a ragweed to death. Then he
put it all into a big kettle, and had them pour water on it and put a
fire under it, and he boiled it for two days and nights, without letting
the fire get down, and after that poured it off into a big gourd to
settle, and told them just what size swallow to take of it, and how to
practise the new habit when they felt the curling begin. Then he said he
must be going, as his family would be worried about him being away so
long, and my folks all gathered to see him off, and gave him as many
presents as he could carry, and he went away somewhere to the southeast,
and they never saw him again.
"Of course, as soon as he was gone, and the medicine was settled nice
and clear, our whole family collected to take it. There wasn't a 'possum
in the Deep Woods that wasn't there, and they had to get in line,
because every one wanted to be first and be sure to get some of that
magic juice.
[Illustration: MR. WATERS HAD TO TAKE WHAT WAS LEFT]
"Well, perhaps they were too anxious, and took bigger swallows than
Somers told them to, or it may be the stuff was a little too strong, or
Somers got in too much of the love-vine, which has such an awful twist;
or it may be he wanted to play a joke on some of our family for being
jealous and wanting to get him caught by Mr. Painter--whatever it was,
that medicine had an awful power and did even more than he said it
would. When every one had taken a good swallow, except the last one in
line--he being a middle-aged person named Waters, who had to take what
was left, which was only about a spoonful and very disappointing to Mr.
Waters--they all felt the curling sensation begin, and commenced the new
muscle-practice Somers had mentioned; and just then Mr. Painter, who had
probably heard that Somers had gone, came tearing through the timber,
and my folks quit practising, and broke for trees and limbs, with Mr.
Painter after one plump young chap which he didn't quite get, and pretty
soon was shaking a limb in the usual way, only harder, being hungrier
than common. The plump young person was scared half to death, never
having had much practice holding on, anyway, and in about a minute he
was obliged to let go with his hands and feet, and just give up
everything, shut his eyes, and drop, expecting next minute he would hit
the ground and it would be all over.
"But right there that plump young fellow got the best surprise of his
life. He had been so scared that he had forgotten all about Mr. Somers's
medicine, but the medicine hadn't forgotten about him. During the little
minute he had been sitting on that limb his tail had curled itself
around it as tight as if it had grown there. Mr. Painter couldn't have
shaken him loose in a week. He hung down just like Somers, only not so
far, and he didn't swing much, because that strong medicine had taken up
all his slack and there was very little room for play. He didn't care
for that, of course, not then. He got brave and very cheerful right off,
and called out to Mr. Painter, just like Somers:
"'Much obliged, Mr. Painter--much obliged for the nice swing. Swing me
again, Mr. Painter.'
"And when the rest of our folks saw that the same thing had happened to
all of them they all let go and dropped, and began calling from the
different trees: 'Come and swing us, too, Mr. Painter--stay all day and
swing the rest of us!'
"And when Mr. Painter heard that, and looked around and saw all my
ancestors hanging head down and making fun of him, he thought the whole
Deep Woods was full of the strange magic, and he piled down out of that
tree and took out for the bushes, and was never seen in the Big Deep
Woods again.
[Illustration: TOOK HIM ALL THE AFTERNOON TO PRY THE REST OF MY
ANCESTORS LOOSE]
"My folks called after him just as far as they could see him, and when
they were sure he was gone they thought they would come down and
celebrate. But they didn't do it--not just yet. There wasn't one of them
that could unwind himself from his limb, except old Mr. Waters, who had
got only a teaspoonful of the medicine, which very likely was just about
the right amount. Mr. Waters swung quite loose and free from his limb,
and got down without much trouble, and it took him all the afternoon to
go around from tree to tree and pry the rest of my ancestors loose, and
unwind them, because those new-fangled tails would snap together like
springs, and it took several days' steady practice and straightening
before they were really useful at a moment's notice. By that time,
another strange thing had happened: The fur on them had curled so tight
at first that it was like very close wool; then it kept right on getting
tighter and tighter until it seemed to curl itself clear out, and by the
end of the week there wasn't one of our family whose tail wasn't as bare
as your hand, except old Mr. Waters, who had a handsome curly plume,
like Somers's, and became a great curiosity, the only one that we ever
had like that in our tribe.
"All the others thought the fur would grow again, but it never did, and
when they got used to its absence they decided they were much better off
without it, especially since they had learned the Somers habit, which
they said worked easier and better in the new, smooth form. They were
sorry, at first, that Mr. Somers had not left them the recipe for that
medicine, on account of the new little 'Possums that would be coming
along. But they didn't need the recipe. That medicine was strong enough,
the amount they took, to do our family at least a thousand generations,
and maybe more. Somers never came back, and they never heard of him
again. Some of my ancestors used to say that he was not a real person at
all, but something that could take different shapes and work magic, just
as Mr. Painter believed he did. Anyhow, he was a great blessing to our
family, as you may have noticed."
Mr. 'Possum moved over to the Edge of the World in the sun, hooked his
tail about the same little bush, and went to sleep again. The other Deep
Woods people looked at the way he did it, as if it was something new
that they had never seen before.
Mr. 'Coon said: "I think I'd like a little, just a little, of that
medicine; Mr. 'Possum's gift certainly would come handy at times."
Mr. Squirrel nodded.
Mr. Rabbit looked out over the Deep Nowhere, and said nothing at all.
A DEEP WOODS WAR
MR. 'COON TELLS A CURIOUS
STORY OF LOVE AND BATTLE
Once upon a time Mr. Dog came over to the Hollow Tree to spend the
evening with the 'Coon and 'Possum and the Old Black Crow, and pretty
soon other Deep Woods people dropped in, and everybody was passing the
time of day and feeling comfortable and happy in the good society of
those present. They talked about the weather, and how it seemed to be a
dry spring, and Mr. Rabbit said his garden was suffering, and Mr. Turtle
said he had never seen the Wide Blue Water so low at this season for a
hundred and nine or ten years. He couldn't remember just which it was,
but it was the year that Father Storm Turtle, who lives up in the Big
West Hills, and makes the thunder, was laid up with misery in his
shoulder, and Mother Storm had to run the thunder-works, and tend to
sick folks, too. Most people, Mr. Turtle said, believed that good, loud
thunder helps to shake the rain out of the clouds, and very likely it
was so, for the next spring, when Father Storm got well, he gave them
enough of it, and it rained so that the Wide Blue Water came up into the
Big Deep Woods as far as the Hollow Tree, which wasn't a Hollow Tree
then, but a good, sound oak only about four hundred years old,--his
Uncle Tom Turtle, who lived up by the Forks, having been just about that
old himself when it came up as a sapling.[5]
When Mr. Turtle got through, none of the Hollow Tree people said
anything at all, at first, for whenever Mr. Turtle mentioned how old he
was, and the great ages of many of his family, it seemed to them too
wonderful for words. But by and by Mr. Dog said that Mr. Turtle was very
likely right about the thunder making the rain, for he had heard Mr. Man
explain that the reason it was so dry this year was because there was a
great war going on, on the other side of the world, with big guns
roaring all day and night, and that the terrible jar and noise of those
guns kept it raining there steadily, so there was no rain left for this
side. Mr. Dog supposed that Father Storm Turtle could not get up a noise
big enough to beat that war noise, and had about given up trying.
Then Mr. Rabbit asked why Mr. Man's people wanted to have war and fire
those big guns at each other, which must be very dangerous and very apt
to kill people, besides causing floods in one place and drought in
another, which was bad for everybody concerned.
Mr. Dog said Mr. Man himself didn't know why all those Mr. Man's over
there wanted to have a war. Mr. Dog had heard Mr. Man say that those
people over there didn't know themselves what it was all about, and that
they were killing each other every day by the thousand with those big
guns, and losing all their property, for no reason at all that anybody
could think of, except, perhaps, to take each other's country, which
probably wouldn't be worth much now, whoever got it. Mr. Dog said that,
of course, Mr. Man's people were very smart in many ways, but that as
nearly as he could find out they had always been very silly about wars,
and had fought many of them, for no good reason, instead of being wise
like the Deep Woods people, who only fight to get something to eat, or
sometimes when there are rivals at a time of courtship. Mr. Dog said his
own people were more like Mr. Man's, probably from association, and that
more than once at Great Corners he had been set upon by a perfectly
strange Mr. Dog, without cause; but even then it was generally a
single-handed affair and soon over, except once, when he believed every
Mr. Dog in Great Corners took a hand for a few minutes, though nobody
was hurt and everybody seemed to feel better for the exercise.
Mr. Dog went on to say that he seldom enjoyed these occasions, and
lately had stayed in Mr. Man's car while they were at Great Corners and
talked earnestly to any strange dog that came around looking for war.
Then Mr. 'Coon, who hadn't said a word so far, but had just been smoking
and thinking, seemed to wake up out of deep reflection, and said:
"I know something about war. I thought of making one, once, and
afterwards I saw one."
Then everybody looked at Mr. 'Coon, who is usually rather quiet, and
asked him to please tell about those wars--nothing could be more
interesting, just now, than to hear about them.
So Mr. 'Coon filled his pipe up fresh, and told them.
[Illustration: I CAN'T IMAGINE WHAT VIOLET COULD SEE IN HIM]
"Well," he said, "there isn't much to tell about the first one. I was
quite young, and there was a family lived not far from us who had a
young Miss 'Coon that I thought I would like to set up housekeeping
with, and when I mentioned it she was a good deal in the notion, too.
Everything seemed to be going along quite well until, one day, another
young Mr. 'Coon came along and saw Violet--that was her name--and he had
the same plan that I had. He belonged to that family over near the
Jagged Bluffs--a common, oversized lot, with no style to speak of. I had
never seen him, myself, when I first heard about his coming to call on
her, and made up my mind I would fight him the first time we met. Then I
thought I had better get a look at him and study his weak points,
without him seeing me; so I hid in the bushes one afternoon, near
Violet's house, to watch him pass. When, pretty soon, he came along and
I saw the curious shape and size of him, I decided that Violet was not
worthy of me. He was very wide forward, and his hind legs were set in a
peculiar way. I can't imagine what Violet could see in him."
Mr. 'Coon sighed and took time to fill his pipe before he went on.
"That was the war I thought of making," he went on, after a minute or
two, "and that was all there was of it. I took a walk over to see a good
friend of mine, in those days, a young Mr. Bear named Redfield,
generally called Cousin Redfield, or Reddie. Mr. Crow once told us about
some of his little-boy adventures, as you may remember. Well, I found
Cousin Redfield and told him what had happened, and he said he would go
with me and help me fight that spread-shouldered ruffian, and asked me
what were his weak points. I said I hadn't noticed any, and we decided
that we wouldn't bother with him, and went to visit a honey-tree that
Cousin Redfield had found and thought of robbing, some night. I said I
didn't think it was right to rob the bees of their honey, but that we
would go and look at it, to take my mind from less pleasant things.
"So we walked a good ways until we came to it, and it was there that I
saw the other war that I mentioned. It seems there were several swarms
of bees in that tree, it being quite a big one with a number of hollow
limbs. Every year when the young bees had made new swarms they had moved
into vacant limbs, until, I suppose, the tree had become quite full and
pretty crowded. I don't know what had started the trouble, but there was
a good deal of it going on when we got there. Perhaps some strong new or
old swarm was trying to drive out a weak one and take its place. Anyway,
there were about a million of those bees buzzing and whirling about
outside, and you could smell that they were mad, and you could see that
they were fighting, for there were dead ones on the ground, and they
were pattering down on the leaves quite fast. Cousin Redfield and I
first thought it was sprinkling, until we saw that the falling drops
were dead bees.
"But that was nothing to what happened a few minutes later. For all
those other swarms, one after another, pretty soon began to pour out
from the different holes in the limbs and body of the tree, and join in
the war, until the air around that tree was just black with fighting
bees, and the dead ones were coming down so thick that I would not have
cared to stand under it without Mr. Man's umbrella.
"Cousin Redfield and I got off a little ways to watch it. Cousin
Redfield said that perhaps we ought to interfere, but I said that it
wasn't our war, and that it would be better to wait and see what we
could do when it was over.
"So we got in a good safe place and looked on, and I never thought
anything could be like it. I don't know how those bees could decide
which side they were on, or what they were fighting about, or which side
was which. They must have been all relatives once, and would be all
cousins, or something, now. They all looked exactly alike to Cousin
Redfield and me, and pretty soon they got very thick on the ground, like
a kind of black moss or something, that was spreading and piling up
deeper every minute and doing nobody any good, and not deciding
anything, that we could see. Cousin Redfield and I made up our minds
that they had all gone crazy.
"I don't know how many millions of those bees there were, but they made
a noise like Mr. Man's automobile when it is running at high speed, and
that mad-bee smell was so strong that it seemed to Cousin Redfield and
me almost dangerous to stay there. So we got a little farther away, for
we didn't know but that all those bees might suddenly decide to quit
fighting one another, and make a rush at us. But that didn't happen.
They were too busy with their war. They kept on pouring out of the tree
until there were no more left to come, and that black cloud whizzed and
stung and smelled, and the black moss on the ground kept growing and
spreading until we could see that the live ones were thinning out. By
and by there were more bees on the ground than there were in the air,
and we thought they would quit then and go to work, but they kept right
on until they were more than shoe-top deep on the ground and just about
ordinarily thick in the air, and still fighting.
"I don't know how long it was that Cousin Redfield and I stood there
watching those bees kill one another, but I know by sunset there were
not more than a dozen or two left, and they were roosting about on the
limbs and leaves, worn out or crippled, and not able to fight any more.
[Illustration: ALL DAY LONG CARRIED HONEY OUT OF THE BEE-TREE]
"Then Cousin Redfield said he thought it was time for us to interfere
and see what could be done, so we each broke off a little birch brush
and swept a path through that black bee moss, and looked into the hole
at the bottom of the tree, but couldn't hear anything. So we climbed up
a little ways and pretty soon came to honey--bushels of it. There were
no bees there except a few fat, lazy ones that couldn't sting, and were
probably kings or queens or something, and we didn't mind them. We ate
all the honey we could, and went home, and next morning got baskets and
all day long carried honey out of the bee-tree and had enough to last
our families for a whole year, the best honey I ever saw in the Big Deep
Woods, and the _most_ I ever expect to see.
[Illustration: VIOLET AND THAT BIG CREATURE HAD STARTED HOUSEKEEPING]
"We didn't get it quite all, though, for the second morning when we came
back we found the tree occupied. Violet and that big, rough creature
from the Jagged Bluffs had found it, and started housekeeping there,
with enough honey to last them at least a month. I heard later they
called it their honeymoon, and I believe people sometimes call the
first few weeks of being married by that name still.
"Cousin Redfield said he would help me drive them out, if I said so; but
I said no, that place had seen war enough, and with all the honey we had
at home I could get along without the present contents of the tree, so
we went away. I said that something would probably happen to those two
for the way they had done, and I was right. For about six weeks later
the honey smell of that tree brought another big, new, strong swarm of
bees to settle there, and they turned Violet and her thick-necked
partner out, in about two minutes, and took full possession. Cousin
Redfield Bear and I used to walk over that way every day, to observe
things, and we happened along just as it was going on. That fellow's
wide build didn't help him any against bees. Violet came out first,
pawing her nose with one hand, and knocking bees with the other. He
stayed to fight a little, but directly he rolled out, scratching and
pawing, and five minutes later his own mother wouldn't have known him,
he was so swelled. Violet looked at him, and then at me and Cousin
Redfield laughing at him, and I think would have deserted him for me,
then; but Violet herself had one eye closed, and her nose was the shape
and size of a reversed turnip. I saw then that I had never truly loved
her and had been wise to give her up. They left the country soon
afterwards and I don't know what became of them. That honey-tree blew
down one winter night about a year after, and then Cousin Redfield and I
went back and got some more honey, but not as much as we did after the
great war."
The Hollow Tree people hadn't said a word during Mr. 'Coon's story, but
when he had finished Mr. Dog said so far as he could see there was just
about as much sense in that war as there was in the one going on over on
the other side of the world, and that the war over there would very
likely end in about the same way.
But Mr. 'Possum said that Mr. 'Coon's war was a good deal better than
Mr. Man's, because, being so soon over, nothing but those silly fighting
bees was wasted; and for Mr. 'Coon and Cousin Redfield Bear to have
stayed out of it until there was no more fighting, and then go in and
carry off a wagon-load of honey, was probably the smartest thing they
had ever done in their lives.
FOOTNOTES:
[5] "Mr. Turtle's Thunder Story" in _The Hollow Tree and Deep Woods
Book_.
MR. CROW AND THE WHITEWASH
I
THE OLD BLACK CROW TRIES
A STRANGE EXPERIMENT
One very nice May morning when Mr. Crow went over to call on Jack
Rabbit, he found him whitewashing his back fence, and after Mr. Rabbit
had showed Mr. Crow how fine it looked when it was dry, he took him into
the kitchen, which he had whitewashed the day before, and Mr. Crow went
on about it and said it was the nicest thing he ever saw, and if he just
knew how, and had the things to do it with, he would whitewash his own
kitchen in the Hollow Tree.
Then Mr. Jack Rabbit said it was the easiest thing in the world--that
all one needed was a little quick-lime and some water and a brush, and
then some practice in putting it on so it would look nice and even, and
not spotty and streaky, as was so liable to be the case when one had
not learned how. Mr. Rabbit said he had borrowed some quick-lime early
one morning from Mr. Man's lime-kiln, over in the edge of the Big West
Hills, and that Mr. Crow could get some at the same place if he went
early enough and took a basket to bring it home in. Jack Rabbit said
that you must put the lime into a barrel, or a tub, or something, and
then pour water on it, which would make it hot and smoky, quite
suddenly, which he supposed was the reason it was called quick-lime, but
that by and by it would grow cool and turn white, when it was called
"slack" lime, and then it only needed some more water to make the
beautiful, clean whitewash which Mr. Crow admired so much. As for
practice, he said, he would let Mr. Crow try a little on his back fence.
[Illustration: MR. CROW AND MR. RABBIT WENT BACK TO THE FENCE JOB]