Once Upon a Time Animal Stories

Since the childhood of the races, certain old-world stories have appeared in different form in the folklore of different nations, all bearing the stamp of the same source; the interest of primitive people in attributing human impulses and human lines of conduct to the animal world.

Perhaps the earliest of all is The Kid Who Would Not Go, which corresponds to the old New England nursery tale of the Old Woman and Her Pig, and which, in its original form, dates back to Hebrew translations. How They Brought Hairlock Home is a typical cumulative tale of Norway. The Story of Ibbity is one of the few obtainable Madagascar folk tales, and symbolizes the search of a primitive people for the source of natural phenomena. Our own southern negroes have given us the stories of Mr. Elephant and Mr. Frog, Why the Bear Sleeps All Winter, Little Bear, and Brother Wolf and the Rock. The American Indians have given us a varied collection of animal myths including How the Rabbit Tried to Coast, How the Squirrel Got Wings, The Talking Grass, and many other camp fire tales that have a nature background.

The reason for using these animal stories for story telling and supplementary reading lies in the instinctive interest which all children have in those stories that express the interpretation of life made by primitive races. This interest, and the indirect moral teaching of many of the stories included in this volume, give them a point of departure over and above that held by the modern story.

Once upon a time, before there were white men on the earth, the Beavers were a family like men. They were thrifty and honest, and spent their time building in the lakes and ponds. They had hands like our hands. They were dressed in gray fur, warm enough for the winters, and dark enough for all the digging which they had to do.

There was no family of all the forest so hard working as the Beavers. The Beaver men had a secret trade of making arrows. They dug flint out of the rocks along the bank and shaped it into arrowheads. These had such magic that the Beavers always had dried meat hanging in their houses.

Most wonderful of all, though, was their skill in building. With no tools but their broad, flat hands, the Beavers built strong dams which made pools in the streams where the fish could hatch. They built their own homes, with many halls and rooms, of the mud at the bottom of the water. All the[Pg 2] Beavers worked, even the women and children. Here they lived in honesty and peace and asked nothing of any one.

In the same days the Eagle was a proud warrior, dressed from head to foot in colored feathers. He lived on a mountain top, and when he came down to the forest he wished great honor. The winds blew their trumpets for him, and the thunder beat drums. All the creatures were asked to bow before the Eagle, and he expected fish and berries to be brought him for a feast.

One spring when the ice had gone out of the streams and ponds and the forest had put on new green leaves, the Eagle came down for a sudden visit. He stopped at the edge of a small lake, and there he saw an old Beaver woman digging in the mud. She bent low over her work. With her large, wrinkled hands she was making the clay into bricks for building a new wall for a Beaver house. The Eagle looked at her with scorn.

The Beaver woman raised her brown head out of the water, and looked up at the Eagle.

“The Beaver family would be hungry, too, sir,” she said, “if we did not work, all of us, to get a living.”

“But think of the kind of work you do,” screamed the Eagle, going up to the branch of a tree to sit so that he need not step in the mud.

“Look at your hands,” he went on. “They are not the hands of a person of rank, like myself, but are stained with earth. You live in houses that are made of mud. You cut down trees with your teeth, and eat weeds and bark. You were made only to wait on others such as myself.”

“We Beavers are humble, but there are no other workers in the forest like us. We deepen and dam the streams and make them more useful. Our work takes us into the mud. In the mud we must live, but we are [Pg 5]honest, thrifty people, sir. What do you want to eat?” she asked.

The Beaver woman wiped her hands and then dived down into the water. The Eagle watched her go, for he was half starved. He longed for a meal of rich, freshly caught fish. He watched the smooth water for some time, but he could see not even a ripple. After he had waited an hour, the water stirred and the brown head of the Beaver woman showed.

“They wait for you on my table, down in the Beaver lodge,” she said, and then she went under the water again.

The Eagle went hungry for a long time. Even now, when the Beaver family walks on four feet, and the Eagle is a bird, all go hungry who are too proud to work for their food.

Once upon a time there was a little Indian boy, and his name was Footsteps Upon the Water because he could run so fast and so softly.

One day, little Footsteps Upon the Water was chasing a squirrel, and he ran so far and so wide that he lost sight of home, and he could not find his way back. On and on ran the squirrel until it came at last to a hollow tree, and it went inside to hide. Footsteps Upon the Water went inside, too, but he was not so small as the squirrel. Out of the log ran the squirrel, but the little boy could not get out. He was stuck fast inside the hollow tree.

His father looked for the little boy many moons. His mother sat at home in the wigwam, crying, but Footsteps Upon the Water did not come back. He lay in the log, and he pounded and shouted, and he thought no one was ever coming to let him out.

But one morning, as he rapped, he heard, on the outside, rap, rap, rap, and a shrill voice calling:

Then a wrinkled, brown face, with a fringe of arrows for a cap, peered in at the end of the log. It was Grandmother Porcupine come to help the little boy out.

“I traveled three days and three nights, little Footsteps Upon the Water, because I heard you cry,” said Grandmother Porcupine.

Then she scratched and she scratched at the end of the log, but she could not get the little boy out.

“I will bring my three grandsons,” said Grandmother Porcupine, and she hurried away to the old hemlock tree where her grandsons lived. She brought them back with her, and they all scratched at the end of the hollow log until at last the little boy was able to crawl out.

Footsteps Upon the Water winked and blinked his eyes when he came outside, for[Pg 8] he had not seen the sun in many days. There, in a circle, sat Grandmother Porcupine, her three grandsons, the old Bear, the Deer, and the Wolf.

“Now, who will be a mother to this little boy?” said Grandmother Porcupine; “I am too old to take care of him.”

“No, indeed,” said Grandmother Porcupine, “you are always traveling. Your husband would carry little Footsteps Upon the Water on his back wherever he went, and the little boy would have no home in the winter.”

“I will be his mother,” said the good old Bear; “I have a warm house in the rocks with plenty to eat in my pantry,—berries, and nuts, and honey.”

“You may have little Footsteps Upon the Water,” said Grandmother Porcupine, “but be sure that your cubs do not teach him any rough tricks.”

So Footsteps Upon the Water went home to the Bear’s house, a cave in the rocks, with little rooms just like a real house. It was a fine place in which to live.

All summer the little boy played with the cubs. When it was late in the fall, and the days were short and dark, and the nights were cold, Mother Bear tucked them all in bed and they slept until spring.

Then came another summer, and other Bear people stopped to call upon them, saying:

So they would all go away together to pick strawberries, or blackberries, or gooseberries. After a while, they went for chestnuts, and that was the most fun of all.

But Mother Bear taught Footsteps Upon the Water and the little cubs to run always when they saw a man with a bow and arrows. One day, a man came very close to the Bear’s house, but Mother Bear chased him with a forked stick, and he went away.

The next day, the man came again, just[Pg 10] as the family was starting out for chestnuts. Mother Bear threw a bag of feathers at the man so that he was not able to see, and he ran away.

The third day, the man came again. Mother Bear was starting out for a neighbor’s house with a bundle upon her back. She chased the man with her forked stick, she threw some more feathers at him, but it did no good. The man shot an arrow at Mother Bear, and she fell to the ground.

“Oh, good Mother Bear,” cried little Footsteps Upon the Water, running out to help her, “such a cruel man to hurt my good Mother Bear!”

But the arrow had stuck fast in Mother Bear’s bundle, and she was not hurt at all. And the man ran up to little Footsteps Upon the Water, crying:

“My little lost boy, my little lost boy,” for it was Footsteps Upon the Water’s own father.

Then he told Mother Bear how sorry he was that he had tried to hurt her, and he[Pg 11] invited her and all the cubs to come for a visit to the wigwam.

And little Footsteps Upon the Water went home, but he never forgot how good old Mother Bear had been to him.

Once upon a time there was a wee, wee Lambikin, and he thought he would go over the hill to see his granny.

So he frolicked along on his teetery legs, as happy and frisky as ever a Lambikin in the spring could be.

Then Lambikin could not think what to do, for he did not wish to be eaten just then. So he said to the lion:

The lion wanted a very fat lamb to eat, so he let Lambikin go on his way, but he said:

Lambikin frolicked along on his teetery legs a little farther, when he suddenly saw a[Pg 13] great vulture, with a huge bill, flying toward him.

Lambikin frolicked along a little farther on his teetery legs, when he suddenly saw a striped tiger coming to meet him, and the tiger said to him:

The tiger was sure that a fat lamb would[Pg 14] taste better than a wee, wee one with teetery legs, so he let Lambikin go along, but he said as he went:

Lambikin reached his granny’s house, and he told her how glad he was to see her, and then he said he was very hungry, and he would like something to eat.

So his granny led the way to the corn bin, and Lambikin ate and ate and ate until his sides stuck out, and his legs were not teetery any more, and he was a fat little lamb. But the more corn he ate and the fatter he grew the less did he want to be eaten. So he said to his granny:

“Grannikin, lion and vulture and tiger will eat Lambikin. What shall he do?”

“I will make a drum of a bit of old skin. Do you get inside and roll past the lion and the vulture and the tiger.”

So granny made a drum of a bit of skin, and Lambikin jumped inside the drum, and off he rolled toward home.

But before he had gone very far he met the lion, who was waiting for him, and the lion said:

Then the lion thought the woods must be on fire, so he ran off as fast as he could.

Then the vulture thought that the woods must surely be on fire, so he flew far above the treetops.

Lambikin rolled merrily along a little way farther, but soon he met the striped tiger, who was waiting for his dinner.

“Lambikin is inside Drummikin,” he said, and he started after the drum as fast as he could go. He nearly caught it, for he went so very fast, but they came to a bramble bush. The tiger caught his tail and was not able to move, and out of the drum jumped Lambikin.

Once upon a time Brother Wolf dressed himself up very finely, just like an Indian. He put feathers on his head, and moccasins on his feet, and beads around his neck. Then he bought a very gay blanket, just like a chief’s blanket. He wrapped it all around him, and then he started on a journey.

As he traveled, he came to a big Rock. Brother Wolf thought that he had never seen such a nice Rock, such a smooth, round, shining Rock. But Brother Wolf thought that the Rock looked cold. So he took off his blanket and wrapped it around the Rock to keep the old Rock warm.

Then Brother Wolf started traveling again, but he had not gone very far when he heard a loud noise—that was the thunder; and he saw a bright light—that was the lightning; and he felt something wet on his nose—that was the rain. So Brother Wolf ran back in great haste to the Rock.

“Oh, Rock,” cried Brother Wolf, “it is storming, and I shall be wet. Give me back my blanket to keep off the rain.”

But, no, Rock would not. Old Rock said he would just keep Brother Wolf’s blanket a little longer.

“Oh, Brother Fox,” said Brother Wolf, “go to Rock and bring back my blanket.”

So Brother Fox went to old Rock and told him that Brother Wolf wanted back his blanket to keep the rain off his nose. But, no, old Rock would not give up the blanket.

Then Brother Fox went back and told Brother Wolf, and Brother Wolf cried because he knew his feathers would be spoiled. They sat under a tree, and the rain poured and poured, the lightning flashed, and the thunder roared. Brother Wolf asked Brother Fox to please go again to old Rock and ask for the blanket, but Brother Fox said, “No.”

After a while they heard a great noise, and a loud roaring. The stones in the road began to come skipping by. Brother Wolf peeped out from under the tree. There was old Rock rolling down the road. The rain had started him, and he was coming so hard that he tore great furrows of earth, and uprooted the trees. He came so fast that he could not stop himself.

Brother Fox scampered into a hole to hide, but he left the tip end of his tail sticking out. Old Rock just grazed it as he went by, and that is why the tip of Brother Fox’s tail is pointed.

On and on went old Rock until he came to a river. Splash, in he went, and that was the last that anybody saw of Rock, for he went straight to the bottom.

When the rain was over, Brother Wolf and Brother Fox went down to the river bank to look for old Rock, but they could not find him anywhere. On the top of the water floated Brother Wolf’s gay blanket,[Pg 21] so they waited until it came ashore, and they dried it in the sun.

Then Brother Wolf said “Good-by” to Brother Fox, and put on his blanket again, and traveled.

Once upon a time, there was an Indian boy and he had a little sister. Now the little sister was not like an Indian child, for she was a bear.

Early one morning the boy started out to seek his fortune, but Little Bear wished to go too.

“No, no, Little Bear, you cannot go. You must stay at home and watch the fire,” said her brother. Then he tied Little Bear to the door posts that she might not run away.

He had not gone very far on his journey when he heard TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP, in the path behind him. There was Little Bear following with the door posts on her back.

“Oh, Little Bear, I told you to stay at home and watch the fire,” said the boy.

He had not gone very far when he heard once more, TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP,[Pg 23] in the path behind him. There was Little Bear following with the pine tree on her back.

He started on his journey again, but he had not gone a stone’s throw, when he heard THUMP, THUMP, THUMP, in the path behind him. There was Little Bear following him with the rock on her back.

“What shall I do with you, Little Bear?” said the boy. But just then they came to a wide brook with no bridge to span it.

Little Bear pushed the rock into the water. She laid the pine tree across the rock for a bridge. They both walked across the brook in safety.

They journeyed for many days until they[Pg 24] came, at last, to some very dark woods. In the woods they met Brother Wolf carrying a candle to light him on his way.

“The sun is lost from the sky,” said Brother Wolf; “the old squaw pulled it down.”

“Oho, I can find the sun,” said Little Bear, “but you must first give me two lumps of maple sugar.”

Brother Wolf gave Little Bear two lumps of maple sugar and she hurried along until she came to the old squaw’s wigwam. The old squaw was stirring a kettle of rice over her fire. Little Bear crept up behind her. Little Bear dropped the two lumps of maple sugar into the kettle. As the old squaw stirred, she tasted her rice.

While she was gone, Little Bear found the sun, which the old squaw had hid in her wigwam. Little Bear tossed it back to the sky again.

When the old squaw came back from the[Pg 25] rice fields and missed her sun, she was very angry. She looked for it many, many days, but the clouds hid it from her. Then, one night, she pulled the moon down, and hid that away in her wigwam.

So there was no light in the evening. Brother Wolf lighted his candle again, and he hurried after the boy and Little Bear, who had started on their journey again.

“The moon is gone from the sky,” said Brother Wolf, “the old squaw has pulled it down.”

“Oho, I can find the moon,” said Little Bear; “give me two pinches of salt, Brother Wolf.”

Brother Wolf gave Little Bear two pinches of salt, and Little Bear crept up to the old squaw again, and threw the salt in her kettle of rice.

“The rice is too salty,” said the old squaw, tasting as she stirred; “I must go to the field for more.”

While she was gone, Little Bear snatched the moon from the wigwam, where the old[Pg 26] squaw had hid it, and tossed it up to the sky again.

Brother Wolf snuffed his candle, for he did not need it any more, but the old squaw was very angry. The old squaw ran after Little Bear. She caught her, and she put her in a bag, and tied the bag to a tree. Then she went for her spoon with which to beat Little Bear.

But while she was gone, Little Bear bit a hole in the bag with her teeth. She slipped out. Then she filled the bag with the old squaw’s pots and pans. When the old squaw came back, and began beating the bag, she broke all her dishes.

Then the boy and Little Bear picked up enough sun gold and moon silver which had fallen by the road to make them rich for always. And Little Bear traveled with her brother wherever he went after that. Was she not a clever Little Bear?

Once upon a time, Mrs. Pig lived in a fine house of her own with her five little pigs. Four of the little pigs were black, but the smallest pig was white and he was as the apple of his mother’s eye.

Around the hill from Mrs. Pig’s house lived Brother Wolf, and Brother Wolf had a mighty good mouth for pig meat. Every night Mr. Wolf came through the garden gate, and he walked round and round Mrs. Pig’s house, sniffing and snuffing, and calling in a soft voice:

But Mrs. Pig always locked her door fast, and Brother Wolf had to go home without any pig meat.

One night Brother Wolf thought of a trick. He put a very high hat on his head. He put shoes on his feet. He tied a necktie around his neck, and he looked just like Mr. Man.

Then he put a bag of corn over his shoulder, and he walked, TRAMP, TRAMP, up the brick walk that led to Mrs. Pig’s house, and he rapped loudly on Mrs. Pig’s door.

“Who knocks?” asked Mrs. Pig, peeping through the window, the little white pig under her arm.

Then Mrs. Pig opened the door, and she turned out the four little black pigs. But the little white pig was as the apple of her eye, and she hid him in the cupboard.

So Brother Wolf emptied all the corn out of his bag, and he put in the four little pigs, and he carried them home with him.

By and by, Brother Wolf was hungry for more pig meat, so he dressed himself in his clothes again. He put his bag of corn over his shoulder, and he rapped loudly at Mrs. Pig’s door, calling:

But Mrs. Pig barred the door, and locked the window, and hid the little white pig in the dresser, for he was as the apple of her eye.

Then Brother Wolf was very angry, and he took off his hat and his shoes and his necktie. He hurried up and down the roads until he met Mr. Wind, who wore a red cloak, and was sweeping the fields.

Brother Wolf told Mr. Wind how he had a mighty good mouth for pig meat. Mr. Wind said he would help Brother Wolf, for he always liked a romp.

So Mr. Wind and Brother Wolf went to Mrs. Pig’s house and they rapped loudly on the door, and Brother Wolf called out:

Then Mr. Wind began to puff himself out bigger and bigger. He huffed and he puffed and he blew a mighty gale. He blew round the garden, and he pulled up the corn and threw it down on the ground. He slammed the gate and he rattled the window. He shook the door, and he cried, “WHE-EE, WHE-EE,” in the keyhole, did Mr. Wind.

Brother Wolf was so frightened that his hair stood up straight on his back. Out of the garden he ran, and around the hill. He never stopped, nor looked behind him, and no one ever saw him in Mrs. Pig’s garden again.

Mrs. Pig opened her door a crack, and peeped out with the little white pig under her arm, for he was the apple of her eye.

HUFF, PUFF, the door blew open wide. When Mrs. Pig saw Mr. Wind in his red cloak running around the garden, she hurried off to the woods with her little white[Pg 32] pig, and she never came home for a day and a night.

And that is how the pigs first came to see the wind. If you do not believe it, just watch them run when Mr. Wind comes huffing and puffing through the garden.

Once upon a time when there were only Indians and animals in our land, there was a green hill covered with long talking grass. The four winds of heaven brought the grasses news of what was going on in the world, and of the coming of hunters. Then the grasses whispered this news to their friends, the little red Fox, the Hare, the Deer, and the Wolf. If the animals were too far away to hear the soft voices of the grasses, they gave the messages to the Butterflies. The hill was the refuge of these animals, and the talking grasses were their friends.

One day a great band of hunters came from their camp in the valley, up the hill. They were armed with bows and arrows. They planned to kill enough game to give them food for a long time. But the grasses knew that the hunters were on their way. They warned the animals, who hid at once. When the hunters reached the hill, they saw nothing[Pg 34] but green grass waving in the wind. Many bright butterflies flew above it.

The hunters listened and heard the grasses talking to one another. They saw, too, the trails of the animals as they had passed through it. They guessed at once what had happened.

“The grasses have told the animals to flee and hide from us,” they said. “We must kill them. To-night we will rest and sleep among them, for we are tired with our long journey. But to-morrow we will tear every blade of grass up by its roots.”

At these cruel words the grasses became still. They loved their life on the hill, with their roots in the earth and their green blades reaching up to the sunshine. Now they knew that they were going to die in the morning. They could neither sing nor talk any more. But the Butterflies knew the grasses’ peril. They flew away, one by one, so that the hunters would suspect nothing, until they came to the Fox’s den. They told him of the great danger of the talking grasses. They[Pg 35] begged him to do anything that he could to save them.

The Fox set off at once. He did not stop until he came to a dark cave on the side of a mountain. Here the Fire Manito lived. Few dared speak to him, for he was a very mighty Manito. He was able to destroy man or beast at his will. But when he saw the eager, trembling little Fox, waiting outside, the Fire Manito asked him his errand. The Fox told him that the grasses were to be killed in the morning, unless something was done to save them.

The Manito went to the back of his cave and brought out a heap of black stones. There was no light in them. He told the Fox about them.

“They came from the depths of the earth,” he said. “The Great Spirit mixed a million sunbeams in each. Then he hid them in the earth until they should be needed to give heat and light to man. Now we will use the black stones to save the grasses.”

The Manito heated the stones in his wood[Pg 36] fire and they glowed like red rubies. He sent the Fox ahead to tell the grasses to be brave. He, himself, followed with his arms full of the glowing stones which did not burn him because he was the Fire Manito.

The hunters had arisen early and waited at the foot of the hill, ready to rush up and tear up the grasses. But the Manito laid the brightly burning stones in a circle about the hill. The hunters were not able to get through. It was a ring of fire and it frightened them. They had never seen burning coals before. They went back to their camp and the grasses were safe, for the coals burned to ashes without touching them.

The grasses soon found their voices again, and they have been talking to their friends, the animals, ever since. In the summer they tell the Field Mouse and the Hare where to hide safely. In the spring they tell the Deer that they are fresh and green for his food. When it is winter, a few of the grasses stand up, stiff and tall, above the snow as the lone gray Wolf runs by. They guide him to[Pg 37] food. In the fall the whispering of the dry grasses helps the Fox to double his trail so that no one may catch him.

Once upon a time there was a little old woman who had a farm of her very own with sheep, and cows, and swine. But the little old woman was so busy making butter and minding the dairy that she had no time to look after the herds.

One fine morning she started out to hire a herdsman. Now she had not gone very far when she met a bear.

“You should just hear me,” said Bruin, and he called in a very loud and gruff voice, “OW, OW.”

“No, no, I won’t have you,” said the little old woman as soon as she heard his gruff voice, and off she went on her way.

“You should just hear me,” said the wolf, and he called in a shrill voice, “UH, UH.”

“No, no,” said the little old woman as soon as she heard that, and off she went on her way.

But before the end of another day’s journey, whom should the little old woman meet but Brother Fox, sitting beside a blackberry bush, and sunning himself.

“Ah, you should hear me,” said Brother Fox. He opened his mouth very wide, and sang in a sweet voice:

“You will do very well,” said the little old woman, quite carried away with the fox’s sweet singing. “You shall come home with me, and be my herdsman.”

Things went very well for a little while at the farm. Early each morning Brother Fox led the sheep and the cows and the swine to pasture, and at night he led them home again, and locked the barn, and bolted the pigpen.

But, somehow, after a week, the flocks and the herds seemed smaller each night when the little old woman went out to make the rounds of the farm.

“He stops behind at the brook,” said Brother Fox, turning his head away that Goody might not see him laughing.

So Goody went back to the dairy, and she wondered and wondered what made the flocks grow smaller.

At last she had churned enough butter to make a fine cake and she went out to the poultry roost for eggs with which to enrich it.

The hens ran about cackling, and out of their midst walked Brother Fox with a chicken over his back, and his hat full of eggs.

“Well, it’s certainly a very poor herdsman you are,” cried the little old woman. “Where is the small black pig? Where is the old ram?”

She ran after Brother Fox, who dropped his eggs and broke every one, and tipped over the churn as he passed the dairy. The little old woman picked up the dasher, and would have beaten Brother Fox, but he was too quick for her, and reached the woods, with a drop of cream on the tip end of his tail.

So the little old woman learned what had become of her herds, and Brother Fox was never able to get that cream from off his tail, The tip end has been white ever since he played at being a herdsman.

Once upon a time, when Mr. Elephant and Mr. Frog lived together in the same wood with Mr. Fox and Mr. Tiger and Mr. Hare and Mr. Lion, the animals were all very good friends.

Mr. Elephant was very, very big, and Mr. Frog was very, very little, but every day they went walking together, Mr. Elephant going in front, tramp, tramp, tramp; and Mr. Frog going on behind, hop, hop, hop.

One night when they came home, Mr. Hare, who was a saucy little fellow, ran to meet them, and he said:

The next day, Mr. Elephant and Mr. Frog started off for a long walk. Mr. Frog had heard of a place where the swamps were deep and muddy. Mr. Elephant knew a place where the bananas grew ripe and thick. And they spent a pleasant day. On the way home Mr. Frog hopped up close to Mr. Elephant, and he said in his high, squeaky voice:

He put his trunk down for a ladder, and Mr. Frog climbed up. They had not gone very far when Mr. Frog hopped up close to Mr. Elephant’s ear, and he said:

“I am going to fall, grandfather. Give me some small cords from the roadside that I may bind your mouth, and hold myself upon your back.”

So Mr. Elephant stripped some small cords from a birch tree by the roadside, and handed them to Mr. Frog. Then Mr. Frog bound Mr. Elephant’s mouth, and they went on a little farther. It was not long, though, before Mr. Frog spoke again to Mr. Elephant.

“Grandfather,” he said, “find me a small, green twig that I may fan the mosquitoes from your ears.”

“I will, grandson,” said Mr. Elephant, so he broke a small, green twig from the birch tree, and reached it up to Mr. Frog; and just then they came toward home.

“See Mr. Elephant,” cried Mr. Lion and all the others, “Mr. Elephant is Mr. Frog’s horse.”

Mr. Elephant turned himself about, and he saw Mr. Frog on his back, holding the reins and the whip.

Then Mr. Frog jumped down to the ground, and he laughed and he laughed until he nearly split his coat, because he had played a trick on Mr. Elephant.

Once upon a time there was a wee little duck, with a very long tail, so he was called Drakestail. Now, Drakestail had some money of his very, very own, and the king asked if he might take it. So Drakestail loaned all his money to the king.

But the king kept Drakestail’s money for a year and a day, and still he did not send it back. Drakestail said he would go to the king and bring back the money himself.

So off he started, one very fine morning, for the king’s house. The sun was shining on the ponds, and Drakestail waddled along in the middle of the road, feeling very fine. As he traveled, he met a fox, and the fox said, “Where do you go this fine morning, Friend Drakestail?”

“Ah,” said Drakestail, “your four legs would soon tire. Come along with me this way,” and he opened his wee little bill very wide, and down his wee little throat went the fox.

Then Drakestail traveled on a little farther. As he went he came to a ladder lying beside the road.

“Your wooden legs would soon tire,” said Drakestail. “Come along with me this way,” and he opened his little bill very wide, and down his wee little throat went the ladder.

Then Drakestail traveled on a bit farther until he came to his friend, the river, lying and glistening in the sunshine.

“You would soon tire if you ran so far, my friend,” said Drakestail. “Come along with me this way.” He opened his wee bill very wide, and down his wee little throat went the little river.

Then Drakestail traveled and traveled until he came to the king’s house. Now Drakestail thought that the king would meet him at the gate, so he called out very loudly:

But the king did not come out to meet him. Who should appear at the gate but the king’s cook, and the cook took Drakestail by his two little legs and flung him into the poultry yard. The other fowls, who were ill-bred birds, ran up to Drakestail and bit him, and jeered at his large tail. It would have gone very badly with Drakestail, but he called to his friend, the fox:

So the fox came out, and he ate up all the ill-bred fowls in the king’s poultry yard. But still Drakestail was badly off. He heard the king’s cook putting the broth pot over the fire.

he cried. So the ladder came out and leaned against the wall, and Drakestail climbed over in safety. But the king’s cook saw Drakestail and set out after him. He caught poor Drakestail and clapped him into the broth pot, and hung him over the fire.

cried Drakestail. So the river put out the fire with a great noise and sputtering, which the king heard. And the king came running to the kitchen.

“Good morning to you, King,” said[Pg 52] Drakestail, hopping out of the broth pot, and making a very low bow, “are you through with my money, which you have kept for a year and a day?”

So the king gave Drakestail the money that he owed him, and Drakestail waddled home again to tell of all his travels.

Once upon a time there lived a cat and a mouse, and they thought they would ask each other to dinner, turn and turn about. First it was the cat’s turn to ask the mouse, and he set his table and invited her, but he did not have much to eat; only a dry crust of bread and some water. But the mouse, who was very polite, ate it and thanked the cat.

When it was the mouse’s turn to give a dinner, she spread a fine feast, platters of fish, and saucers of milk, and joints of meat. Then she baked a large cake with sugar on the top for the cat, and for herself she made a very tiny cake with no frosting.

The cat came to the mouse’s dinner, and he ate the fish and the meat, and lapped the milk, and ate the cake. Then he looked around in a greedy way, and he said:

“What a very light dinner. Have you nothing more in the house to eat, mouse?”

So the cat ate the mouse’s cake, and then he looked about again in a greedy way, and he said:

She thought the cat would never be so greedy as that, but he opened his mouth wide, and down his throat went the mouse.

Then the greedy cat walked out of the mouse’s house and down the road, swinging his tail, for he felt very fine.

On his way he met an old woman. Now the old woman had been peeping in at the window, and she had seen what that greedy cat had done.

Then on down the road went the cat, swinging his tail, and feeling finer than[Pg 55] ever. As he went he met an old man taking his load of apples to market. The old man was beating his donkey to make it go faster.

“Tread on me, indeed,” said the cat, shaking his fat sides, “I have eaten my friend the mouse, I have eaten an old woman. What is to hinder my eating you?”

So the greedy cat opened his mouth very wide, and down his throat went the man and his donkey.

Then he walked along in the middle of the road again. After a while he spied a great cloud of dust, and he heard a great tramping of feet. It was the king riding in his chariot, and behind him marched all his soldiers and his elephants.

“Step on me, indeed,” said the cat, “I have eaten my friend the mouse, I have eaten an old woman, I have eaten an old[Pg 56] man and a donkey. What is to hinder my eating a king and a few elephants?”

So the cat opened his mouth wide, and down his throat went the king and the soldiers and all the elephants.

Then the cat started on again, but more slowly. He was really not hungry any more. As he traveled he met two land crabs, scuttling along in the dust.

“I have eaten my friend the mouse,” said the cat, “I have eaten an old woman, and a man and a donkey, and a king and all his soldiers and all his elephants. What is to hinder my eating you, too?”

But the crabs began to look about them there in the dark. There were the soldiers trying to form in fours, but there was not room. The elephants were stepping on each other’s toes. The old woman was scolding, and in a corner sat the poor little mouse, her paws and ears all drooping.

Then they began snipping and snipping with their sharp little claws. Soon there was a hole large enough, and they crept out.

Then out came the king and his soldiers and all his elephants. Out came the old woman scolding her cat. Out came the man and his donkey. Last of all, out came the little mouse with one little cake under her arm, for one cake was all that she had wanted.

But the greedy cat had to spend all the rest of the day sewing up the hole in his coat.

Once upon a time there were three Billy Goats, and one was a very large Goat, and one was a middle-sized Goat, and one was a tiny Goat, but the three had the very same name, which was Gruff.

One morning the three Billy Goats started away from home, for they had decided to go far, far to a hillside where there was a quantity of green grass, and they might eat of it and make themselves fat.

Now, on the way to the hillside there ran a brook, and over the brook was a bridge, and under the bridge lived a Troll with eyes as large as saucers, and a nose as long as a poker. And this Troll was fond of eating Billy Goats.

First of all came the youngest Billy Goat Gruff to cross over the bridge. Trip trap, trip trap, his little feet pattered upon the boards.

“Who is that tripping over my bridge?” called up the Troll in a surly voice.

“Oh, it’s only I, the tiniest Billy Goat Gruff, going over to the hillside to make myself fat,” the Goat called back in a wee small voice.

“Oh, no, pray do not take me,” said the tiniest Billy Goat Gruff; “I am too little, that I am. Wait until the second Billy Goat Gruff comes along. He is ever so much bigger than I.”

Then came the middle-sized Billy Goat Gruff, to cross the bridge. Trip trap, trip trap, his middle-sized feet pattered upon the boards.

“Oh, it’s only I, the middle-sized Billy Goat Gruff, going over to the hillside to make myself fat,” the Goat called back in a middle-sized voice.

“Oh, no, pray do not take me,” said the middle-sized Billy Goat Gruff; “I am a little larger than the tiniest Billy Goat, but I am not large enough to make a mouthful for you. Of that I am quite sure.”

“It is I, the great Billy Goat Gruff, going over to the hillside to make myself fat,” the Goat called back in a great voice.

So the Troll, whose eyes were as large as saucers and his nose as long as a poker, came hurrying up to the top of the bridge,—but, ah, this is what happened to him.

There on the bridge stood the great Billy [Pg 62]Goat Gruff with his feet firmly planted on the boards and his head lowered, and as soon as the Troll came near—rush, scamper—the Goat tossed the Troll so high with his horns that no one has ever seen a Troll under a bridge from that day to this.

Then the great Billy Goat Gruff went on to the hillside, and the three Billy Goats ate, and ate, and made themselves so fat that they could scarcely walk home again.

Once upon a time there lived a little old man and a little old woman in a house all made of hemp stalks. And they had a little dog named Turpie who always barked when any one came near the house.

One night when the little old man and the little old woman were fast asleep, creep, creep, through the woods came the Hobyahs, skipping along on the tips of their toes.

“Tear down the hemp stalks. Eat up the little old man, and carry away the little old woman,” cried the Hobyahs.

Then little dog Turpie ran out, barking loudly, and he frightened the Hobyahs so that they ran away home again. But the little old man woke from his dreams, and he said:

“Little dog Turpie barks so loudly that I can neither slumber nor sleep. In the morning I will take off his tail.”

So when it came morning, the little old man took off little dog Turpie’s tail to cure him of barking.

The second night along came the Hobyahs, creep, creep through the woods, skipping along on the tips of their toes, and they cried:

“Tear down the hemp stalks. Eat the little old man, and carry away the little old woman.”

Then the little dog Turpie ran out again, barking so loudly that he frightened the Hobyahs, and they ran away home again.

“Little dog Turpie barks so loudly that I can neither slumber nor sleep. In the morning I will take off his legs.”

So when it came morning, the little old man took off Turpie’s legs to cure him of barking.

The third night the Hobyahs came again, skipping along on the tips of their toes, and they called out:

“Tear down the hemp stalks. Eat up the little old man, and carry away the little old woman.”

Then little dog Turpie barked very loudly, and he frightened the Hobyahs so that they ran away home again.

“Little dog Turpie barks so loudly that I can neither slumber nor sleep. In the morning I will take off his head.”

So when it came morning, the little old man took off Turpie’s head, and then Turpie could not bark any more.

That night the Hobyahs came again, skip- ping along on the tips of their toes, and they called out:

“Tear down the hemp stalks. Eat the little old man, and carry off the little old woman.”

Now, since little dog Turpie could not bark any more, there was no one 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:

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:

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.

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.

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.

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:

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.”

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 [Pg 73]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.[Pg 74] 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[Pg 75] 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.

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:

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,”[Pg 77] 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.”

“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,[Pg 78] but you have dug a tunnel through the hill. Are you not the strongest one?”

“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?”

“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?”

“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?”

“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.”

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.

“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[Pg 82] 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[Pg 85] 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.

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,[Pg 87] 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[Pg 88] 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.”

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.

“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?”

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[Pg 90] 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.

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.”

“Good Reynard, bite my nanny goat, Hairlock, who stands on the top of yonder[Pg 92] 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.”

“Then go to Greylegs, the wolf, Boots,” said his mother, “and tell him to bark at naughty Hairlock.”

“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.”

“Then go to Bruin, the bear,” said his mother, “and bid him chase naughty Hairlock.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

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.

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[Pg 96] 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:

“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.

Down she came, with her apron full of cherries; home she went, and 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[Pg 97] 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:

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.

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.

“The earth is cracking,” said the Rabbit, “and I run that I may not be swallowed up by it.”

As they ran, they met his Father and he said to the Rabbit, “Why do you run so fast?”