Chapter III: Part 3

“After supper the woman went out, and after a while Johnny went out, too, leaving his father sitting by the fire smoking his pipe. Johnny went to the lot, thinking the woman had gone there. He wanted to see whether she would milk the cow. He crept along the side of the fence, and soon he was near enough to peep through a crack without being seen. He saw the woman rubbing the cow on the back while the calf was getting all the milk.

“‘You see how good I am to you, sister,’ said she. ‘Now I want you to be good to me. When that boy Jack goes after you to the pasture, I want you to lead him a chase. I saw him beating your calf to-day. But see how good I am to your calf, sister. I give it all the milk.’

“The cow shook her horn and switched her tail, and Johnny, sitting in the fence corner, wondered what it all meant.

“‘I see,’ said the cow, after a while. ‘You want to marry the boy’s father, and the boy is in the way. But suppose they find you out. What then?’

“‘Trust me for that, sister,’ said the woman; ‘trust me for that.’

“Johnny waited to hear no more, but crept away and went to bed. He was dressed and out by sun-up next morning, but the woman was up before him, and had breakfast nearly ready. Johnny asked her if she had milked the cow, and she replied that she had milked and forgotten about it. Johnny saw the milk-pail setting on the shelf, and when he looked at it he knew the cow had not been milked, else the sides of the pail would have been spattered.

“But the cow had been turned out, and the calf was sleeping contentedly in the fence corner, instead of nibbling the grass. Johnny drank no milk at breakfast, but his father did, and smiled at the woman more than ever. During the day Johnny forgot all about the cow, but when night came he knew she must be brought up, so he went to the pasture after her. She was not to be found. He hunted over the hills and fields, and then, not finding her, began to cry.

“Suddenly the lady he had seen the day before stepped out of the wood and spoke to him. She held in her hand a tiny lantern.

“‘Take this,’ she said, holding out the lantern. ‘You wouldn’t call me, and so I came to you.’

“‘I forgot,’ whispered Johnny.

“‘Don’t forget any more,’ said the lady. ‘Take this lantern and run to the Whispering Poplar that stands on the hill. You’ll find your cow tied there. Drive her home, and don’t spare her.’

“Johnny found the cow tied to the poplar sure enough, and he made her gallop home as fast as she could. He blew out his tiny lantern before he got in sight of the house, but it dropped from his hand and he could find it no more. He ceased to hunt for it after a while, and drove the cow to the lot, where the woman was waiting.

“‘Go get your supper,’ she said to Johnny.

“‘Yes ’m,’ replied Johnny, but he went off only to creep back to see what the woman would do.

“She abused the cow terribly. He could see that she was angry. ‘You are a nice sister,’ she exclaimed, ‘to let that boy bring you home so early.’

“‘Don’t “sister” me,’ moaned the cow. ‘I’m nearly famished, and that boy has nearly run me off my legs. Somebody that I couldn’t see caught me and tied me to a tree this morning, and there I’ve been all day. We’d better go away from here. That boy will find you out yet.’

“Then Johnny crept away, ate his supper, and went to bed. He slept late the next morning, but when he awoke he found that his father, instead of being at work, as was his habit, was smoking his pipe and talking to the woman, and both were smiling at each other very sweetly. That afternoon, Johnny went to bring the cow home before sundown, but he couldn’t find her. He hunted and hunted for her until long after dark, and then he went to the Whispering Poplar that stands on the hill, and said:—

“‘O Keeper of Cows that roam in the night,
Come over the hills and lend me your light!’

“Instantly Johnny heard a cow lowing in the valley, and saw a light glimmering faintly in the distance. In a little while he heard a tremendous clatter of hoofs up the hill, and the rushing of some large animal through the bushes. It seemed to have one eye only and that eye shone as fiercely as a flame of fire as its head swayed from side to side. It came rushing to the poplar-tree where Johnny stood, and stopped there. Johnny peeped from behind the tree and saw that the frightful animal was nothing more than his cow, with a tiny lantern hanging on her horn. She stood there panting and trembling. Johnny waited to see if the Keeper of Cows that roam in the night would make her appearance, but he waited in vain. Then he drove the cow home, turned her into the lot, and went in the house to get his supper. His father and the woman were sitting very close together.

“‘Have you brought the cow?’ the woman asked.

“‘She’s in the lot,’ replied Johnny.

“‘You are a smart boy,’ said the woman.

“‘Thanky, ma’am,’ exclaimed Johnny.

“So it went on day after day. The woman would make the cow wander farther and farther away from home, and Johnny would go to the Whispering Poplar that stands on the hill and call for the beautiful lady, the Keeper of the Cows that roam in the night, and soon the cow would come running and lowing. Then Johnny would drive her home by the light of his little lantern. This happened so often that the neighbors, and indeed the people in all that country, when they saw a light bobbing around at night, would shake their heads and say, ‘There goes Jack with his lantern,’ and then after a while they called him ‘Jack of the Lantern.’

“One day he heard two of the neighbors talking about him, saying it was a pity that so bright a boy should have such a stepmother as the woman his father was about to marry. Then Johnny (or Jack, as he was sometimes called) knew that his father was preparing to marry the woman who was keeping house for him, and it made the boy feel very wretched to think that this woman was to take the place of his mother.

“That very day he went to the Whispering Poplar that stands on the hill and called for the Keeper of the Cows that roam in the night. The lady made her appearance, and then Johnny told her his troubles. The lady smiled for the first time. Then she told Johnny that if he would follow her directions his troubles would disappear. She gave him a roll of blue ribbon, and told him what to say when he presented it to the woman just before the marriage took place. She told him also what to do with his little lantern. Johnny went home feeling very much better, and that night his father told him he was to have a new mother the next day. He said nothing in reply, but smiled as if the news pleased him.

“Johnny lay awake that night a long time, and once he thought the woman came and leaned over his bed as if to listen, but just then a cow not far away lowed once, twice, thrice. Then the woman went away muttering something.

“The next day the invited guests began to assemble early, and after a while the preacher came. The women neighbors would have the bride to stand up in the middle of the floor to admire her just before the ceremony, and when she stood up Johnny began to march around her, waving his lantern and his blue ribbon and singing:—

“‘I have for the bride ten yards of blue ribbon—
Ten yards of blue ribbon, ten yards of blue ribbon—
I have for the bride ten yards of blue ribbon,
So rich and so soft and so rare;
Five yards to pin on her snowy white bosom—
Her snowy white bosom, her snowy white bosom—
Five yards to pin on her snowy white bosom,
And five to tie in her hair.

“‘I have a lantern to light her along with—
To light her along with, to light her along with—
I have a lantern to light her along with,
When forth she fares in the night;
Out in the dark, the ribbon will rustle—
The ribbon will rustle, the ribbon will rustle—
Out in the dark the ribbon will rustle,
And the lantern will lend her its light!’

“Johnny threw the blue ribbon over the woman’s shoulder and around her neck, and waved his lantern, and instantly the woman disappeared, and in her place stood a cow. Before the people could recover their surprise, the lady that Johnny had seen at the Whispering Poplar came into the room and bowed to the company.

“‘This is the most malicious cow in all my herd,’ said she, ‘and this brave boy has caught her. Here is a purse of gold for his reward. As for you, sir,’ turning to Johnny’s father, ‘you may thank your son for saving you from this witch.’ Then she bowed again, and went away, leading the cow, and neither of them was ever seen in that country again.

“But to this day, when people see a light bobbing up and down in the fields at night, they say, ‘Yonder’s Jack of the Lantern!’”

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X.

A LUCKY CONJURER.

“Now, I think that was a pretty good story,” said Mr. Rabbit. “It had something about cows in it, and there was nothing about kings and princes. I wouldn’t give _that_”—Mr. Rabbit blew a whiff of smoke from his mouth—“or all your princes and kings. Of course that’s on account of my ignorance. I don’t know anything about them. I reckon they are just as good neighbors as anybody, when you come to know them right well.”

Buster John laughed at this, but Sweetest Susan only smiled.

“Oh, I am not joking,” remarked Mr. Rabbit solemnly. “There’s no reason why kings and queens and princes shouldn’t be just as neighborly as other people. If a king and queen were keeping house anywhere near me, and were to send over after a mess of salad, or to borrow a cup of sugar or a spoonful of lard, I’d be as ready to accommodate them as I would any other neighbors, and I reckon they’d do the same by me.”

“They’d be mighty foolish if they didn’t,” said Mrs. Meadows.

“I hear tell dat folks hafter be monstus umble-come-tumble when dey go foolin’ ’roun’ whar dey er kingin’ an’ a queenin’ at,” remarked Drusilla. “Ef dey sont me fer ter borry any sugar er lard fum de house whar dey does de kingin’ an’ queenin’, I boun’ you I’d stan’ at the back gate an’ holler ’fo’ I went in dar whar dey wuz a-havin’ der gwines on. Dey wouldn’t git me in dar ’fo’ I know’d how de lan’ lay.”

“I expect you are right, Tar-Baby,” replied Mr. Rabbit.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t go to sleep over the story of the little boy and the lantern. But it didn’t have any moral,” said Mr. Thimblefinger.

“Why, I reckon that’s the reason I didn’t do any nodding,” explained Mr. Rabbit. “I knew there was something the matter.”

There was a pause, during which Mr. Rabbit betrayed a tendency to fall to nodding again. Presently Mrs. Meadows remarked:—

“I mind me of a story that I heard once—I reckon the talk about kings and queens made me remember it. Anyway, it popped into my head all of a sudden, though I hadn’t thought about it in years.”

“Fire away!” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit, opening his eyes and slowly closing them again.

“Once upon a time there lived in the land of Moraria a man who was very poor. He worked whenever and wherever he could find work, yet he had so many children that even if he had found work every day he could have made hardly enough for all to eat and wear. As it was, times were so hard and work was so scarce that he frequently had to go hungry and half clothed. His wife did the best she could, which was very little. She worked about the palace where the king had lived, but as she was only one among a hundred, she got small wages, and had few opportunities to carry any scraps of victuals to her children.

“Finally the man came to the conclusion that he must make a desperate effort to better his condition, so he said to his wife:—

“‘What are my five senses for? I see other people living by their wits, and dressing fine and enjoying the best in the land. Why shouldn’t I do the same? What is to prevent me but my stupidity?’

“‘Stupidity is a high fence to climb over,’ replied the man’s wife. ‘But if you are willing to try how far your wits will carry you, you will have a good opportunity in a few days. The king’s daughter, the Princess Myla, is to be married next week, and even now the guests are assembling at the palace—most of them belonging to the bridegroom’s retinue.’

“The man leaned his head on his hand and thought a while, and then he rose and put on the best clothes he had, which were poor enough, and tied a rope girdle around his waist.

“‘I shall go to court as a pilgrim,’ he said to his wife. ‘When you see me, do you go around among the other servants and tell them that a great conjurer has arrived from the East. In this way it will come quickly to the King’s ears. Nothing will come of that, but the next morning something valuable will be missing from the palace. When you hear of it, do you tell the rest that you know a man who can find whatever is missing.’

“‘But how will you do this?’ asked the woman.

“‘Leave that to me,’ he replied.

“The man carried out his plan, and his wife followed his directions. She pointed him out to her fellow-servants as a great conjurer from the East. Ragged as he was, the man stalked majestically about the palace-yard, and after a while sat on the ground with his face to the wall, and shook his head from side to side, and made many queer motions with his hands.

“Now, while the man sat there going through his queer motions, he heard voices on the other side of the wall. He judged that two men were resting in the shade on that side, and he knew by the way they talked that they had come with the young Prince who was to marry the Princess Myla.

“‘You have left the blanket on the horse, I hope,’ said one.

“‘Yes, everything is attended to,’ replied the other.

“‘That is well,’ remarked the first. ‘The Prince, our master, desires the Princess Myla to be the first to look on this beautiful horse, which has just come out of Arabia. I will go myself to see that the animal is properly cared for.’

“Presently two strangers came through the gate, laughing and talking, and the man who was playing the conjurer knew they were the keepers of the horse. He rose when they went by, and watched them until he saw what part of the palace stables they entered. Then he slowly made his way out of the palace grounds.

“That night he went back and removed the horse, placing it where no one would be likely to find it. Then he told his wife what he had done.

“‘There will be a great outcry,’ said he, ‘when the horse is missed. In the midst of it make your voice heard, and remind the young Prince’s attendants that there is a famous conjurer within reach who can no doubt find the horse.’

“As the man said, so it turned out. There was a great noise made when it was found that the beautiful Arabian horse had been stolen. The young Prince was ready to tear his hair, so great was his disappointment. He offered a large sum of money to any one who would recover the horse. When the excitement was at its highest, the woman mentioned to some of the attendants that a famous conjurer had come to the palace. She then pointed her husband out to the men. At once the news was carried to the Prince, who was with the King.

“The King was not a believer in conjurers, and he quickly told the attendants to go send the vagabond about his business. But the young Prince was so keen to recover the beautiful horse which he had intended as a wedding gift for the Princess Myla that he insisted on consulting the conjurer. So the man was sent for. He came, followed by a number of people who were anxious to see what he would do. He had a very wise look as he bowed to the King and to the Prince.

“‘Who are you?’ the King asked with a frown.

“‘A poor pilgrim, your Majesty. Nothing more.’

“‘What is your business?’

“‘I am a student, your Majesty.’

“‘Where are your books?’

“‘In men’s faces, your Majesty.’

“The man’s replies were so apt that the King’s ill-humor partly passed away.

“‘A horse has been stolen from the royal stables,’ said the King. ‘I am told you are a conjurer. If you are, find the horse.’

“The man seated himself on the carpet, drew a crystal stone from his pocket, and asked the young Prince to warm it in the palm of his hand. Then the man took it and looked at it a few moments, rubbing his hand over it as if something blurred his sight. Then he said:—

“‘The horse has on a blanket woven on a Russian loom. I see! A dapple-gray with milk-white mane and tail.’

“‘That is the horse!’ cried the Prince. ‘Where is he?’

“‘He is tied in a thicket a half league from here, near a road that leads to the river. He paws the ground and whinnies for his master. He is hungry.’

“At once messengers were sent and the horse found. The Prince was about to give the man a purse of gold, but the King stayed his hand, saying:—

“‘I’ll test this fellow. I believe he is an imposter.’

“The man was very much frightened at this, but there was no escape for him. The King went to his private apartment, and shortly came back with a covered basket in his hand.

“‘There is a bird in this nest,’ said the King. ‘If you are a conjurer, tell me the name of it.’

“‘Alas, your Majesty,’ cried the man, preparing to fall on his knees and beg for mercy, ‘a nest that wouldn’t fit a sparrow might chance to fit a crow.’

AS HE DID SO, A CROW HOPPED OUT
]

“‘You certainly have gifts,’ remarked the King as he lifted the cover from the basket. As he did so a crow hopped out and went stalking about the room. The man was more astonished than the King. In his fright he had hit on an old saying that he had often heard, and it saved his life.

“The Prince gave the man a purse of gold and he was about to retire, when suddenly an attendant came running into the chamber crying that some one had stolen the beautiful diamond ring belonging to the Princess Myla.

“‘Tell the Princess to trouble herself no further. We have here a man who will be able to find it,’ said the King.

“‘Allow me a little time, your Majesty,’ cried the man, who was now frightened nearly out of his wits. ‘Let me go into a vacant room in a quiet part of the palace, where I may have an opportunity to look into this matter.’

“He was soon placed in a room near the servants’ quarters, the attendants telling him that he would be summoned by the King in an hour. He went into the room, shut the door, and flung himself on the floor, bewailing his unhappy condition.

“Now the ring had been stolen by one of the women in attendance on the Princess. She was so pale and sad-looking that her companions had nicknamed her Misery, and sometimes the Princess herself, in a spirit of fun, called her by that name. She had heard how the conjurer had discovered the stolen horse, and she had seen him name the crow in the covered basket. Consequently she was very much frightened when she heard the King command him to find the stolen ring. She saw the conjurer go into the room, and after a while she crept to the door to listen, so great was her fear.

“The man in the room was not thinking of the stolen ring at all. He was merely bewailing his unhappy lot.

“‘Oh, misery, misery!’ he cried; ‘I have heard of you, but now I know you!’

“He had no sooner said this than there came a knock on the door and a voice said:—

“‘Don’t talk so loud! Open the door!’

“The man opened the door and saw a woman standing there trembling and weeping.

“‘Don’t expose me,’ she said, ‘but spare my life. I have the ring here. I did wrong to steal it.’

“For a moment the man was so overcome with astonishment that he was unable to speak. He took the ring in his hand and looked at it while the woman continued to plead with him. He handed her the ring again.

“‘Take it,’ he said, ‘and place it beneath the corner of one of the rugs in the bedroom of the Princess. Be quick about it, for I am going to the King.’

“The woman ran and did as she had been told, and then the man came from the room and sent an attendant to inform the King that the ring had been found. The King sent for him.

“‘Where is the ring?’

“‘Under a corner of a rug in the bedroom of the Princess, your Majesty,’ replied the man, bowing low and smiling.

“Search was at once made, and sure enough the beautiful ring was found under a corner of a rug in the Princess’s bedroom. The Princess herself came to thank the conjurer, and if he had not been a very sensible man his head would have been turned by the attention he received. Even the King no longer doubted the conjurer’s powers.

“‘There is something in this man,’ said the King, and he straightway offered him a high position among his councilors.

“The man thanked the King most heartily, but declared that his business would not allow him to remain another day at court. So the King gave him a purse of gold, the young Prince gave him another, and the beautiful Princess Myla gave him a string of pearls of great value. Then he went home, bought him some land, built him a comfortable house, and went into business for himself.

“It sometimes happened that his wife complained because he did not accept the King’s offer and remain at court, so that she might have flourished as a fine lady, but he always replied by saying that the man is a fool who will tempt Providence more than three times in a lifetime. Though he went into the palace poor and came out of it rich, he had escaped only by the skin of his teeth. He was always grateful for his good fortune, and by his example taught his children to lead virtuous lives and always to help the poor and needy.”

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XI.

THE KING OF THE CLINKERS.

Chickamy Crany Crow and Tickle-My-Toes had stopped frolicking, and were now listening to the stories. While Mrs. Meadows was telling about the lucky conjurer, Tickle-My-Toes became very uneasy. He moved about restlessly, pulled off his big straw hat, put it on again, and seemed to be waiting impatiently for the time to come when he might say something.

So, when Mrs. Meadows had finished, she looked at Tickle-My-Toes to see what he wanted. The rest did the same. But Tickle-My-Toes blushed very red, and looked at his feet.

“You acted as if you wanted to say something,” said Mrs. Meadows, “and if you do, now’s your chance. What’s the matter? Have you run a splinter in your foot? You look as if you wanted to cry.”

“I did want to say something,” replied Tickle-My-Toes.

“What was it?” Mrs. Meadows inquired.

“Nothing much,” answered Tickle-My-Toes, putting his finger in his mouth.

“I declare, I’m ashamed of you,” exclaimed Mrs. Meadows. “Here you are mighty near as old as I am, and yet trying to play boo-hoo baby.”

“I don’t think you ought to talk that way,” said Tickle-My-Toes. “I thread your needles for you every day, and I do everything you ask me.”

“I know what’s the matter with you,” remarked Mrs. Meadows. “You want me to take you in my lap and rock you to sleep.”

“Oh! I don’t!” cried Tickle-My-Toes, blushing again. “I wanted to tell a story I heard, but I’ll go off somewhere and tell it to myself.”

“There wouldn’t be any fun in that,” suggested Buster John.

“No,” said Mrs. Meadows. “Tell the story right here, so we can enjoy it with you.”

“You’ll laugh,” protested Tickle-My-Toes.

“Not unless there’s something in the story to laugh at.”

“This is no laughing story. It’s just as solemn as it can be,” explained Tickle-My-Toes.

“Good!” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit. “If there’s anything I like, it is one of those solemn stories that make you feel like you want to go off behind the house and shake hands with yourself, and cry boo-hoo to the ell-and-yard and seven stars.”

Mr. Rabbit’s enthusiastic remark was very encouraging to Tickle-My-Toes, who, after scratching his head a little, and looking around to see if he could find a place to hide when the time came, began his story in this wise:—

“Once upon a time, and in a big town away off yonder somewhere, there lived a little boy who had no father nor mother. He was so small that nobody seemed to care anything about him. But one day a woman, the wife of a baker, heard him crying in the streets, and carried him into the house, and gave him something to eat, and warmed him by the fire, and after that he felt better.

“The baker himself grumbled a great deal when he came home and found what his wife had done. He said he wouldn’t be surprised to come home some day and find his house full of other people’s children. But his wife replied that it would be well enough to complain when he found the house full. As for this little brat, she said, he wouldn’t fill a milk jar if he was put in it, much less a great big house.

“The baker growled and grumbled, but his wife paid no attention to him. She sat in her chair and rocked and sang, and was just as good-natured as she could be. After a while the baker himself got over his grumbling, and began to laugh. He told his wife that he had sold all his bread that day, and had orders for as much the next day.

“‘Of course,’ said she; ‘but if I had left that child crying in the streets your business would have been ruined before the year is out.’

“‘Maybe so,’ replied the baker.

“Well, the little boy grew very fast, and was as lively as a cricket. The baker’s wife thought as much of him as if he had been her own son, and the baker himself soon came to be very fond of him. He was very smart, too. He learned to watch the fire under the big oven, and to make himself useful in many ways. He played about the oven so much, and was so fond of watching the bread bake and the fire burn, that the baker’s wife called him Sparkle Spry.

“For many years the country where the baker and his wife and Sparkle Spry lived had been at peace with all the other countries. But one day a man from a neighboring country had his nose pulled by somebody in the baker’s country, and then war was declared by the kings and queens, and the people fell to fighting.

“Now, when people fight they must be fed, and the cheapest thing to feed them on is bread. A part of the army camped near the town where the baker lived, and there was a great demand for bread. The baker’s oven was not a large one, and by running it day and night he could only bake three hundred loaves.

“He and his wife baked until they were tired out. They told Sparkle Spry to watch the oven so that the bread wouldn’t burn, and to wake them when it was brown. They were so tired that Sparkle Spry was sorry for them, and he wondered why he wasn’t big enough to take their places, if only for one day and night. While he was thinking and wishing, he saw something moving. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, and then he saw an old man, no bigger than a broomstick, and no taller than a teacup, peeping from behind the oven.

HE SAW AN OLD MAN, NO BIGGER THAN A BROOMSTICK
]

“‘Are they all gone?’ he whispered, coming forward a little way.

“‘All who?’ asked Sparkle Spry.

“‘The old ones—the big man and the fat woman.’

“‘They have gone to bed,’ said Sparkle Spry. ‘I can call them!’

“‘No, no,’ cried the old man. ‘They are such fools! They don’t know what is good for them. I have been waiting for years to get a chance to show them how to bake bread. Once I showed myself to the man, and he thought I was a snake; once to the woman, and she thought I was a rat. What fools they are!’

“‘Who are you?’ inquired Sparkle Spry. He didn’t like to hear his friends abused.

“‘Who—me? I’m the King of the Clinkers—twice plunged in the water and twice burned in the fire.’

“‘Well, to-night you can bake all the bread you want to,’ said Sparkle Spry. ‘The baker and his wife have been trying to supply the army that is camped here, but their oven is too small. They have worked until they can work no longer, and now they have gone to bed to rest.’

“‘Good!’ cried the King of the Clinkers. ‘Shut the door, so they can’t hear us! I’ll show them a thing or two about baking bread.’

“Then he walked close to the hot oven, tapped on it with a little poker that he carried in his belt, and called out: ‘Wake up! Get out! Come on! Hurry up! We’ve no time to lose! Show yourselves! Stir about! Be lively!’

“With that, hundreds of little men swarmed out of the ash heap behind the oven, some of them sneezing and some rubbing their eyes, but all jumping about with motions as quick as those of a flea when he jumps.”

“Oh, please don’t talk about fleas,” pleaded Mr. Rabbit, shuddering and scratching himself behind the ear. “It makes the cold chills run up my back. I never hear ’em named but I think I can feel ’em crawling on me.”

“Anyhow, that’s the way the little men jumped about,” said Tickle-My-Toes, resuming his story. “They swarmed in and out of the oven, hot as it was; they swarmed in and out of the flour barrels; they swarmed in and out of the trough where the dough was kneaded; and they swarmed in and out of the woodshed.

“The King of the Clinkers stood sometimes on the edge of the oven, sometimes on the edge of the flour barrels, sometimes on the edge of the trough, sometimes on the woodpile, and sometimes at the door of the furnace. And wherever he stood he waved his tiny poker and told the others what to do.

“Some of the little men carried wood to the furnace, some carried flour and water to the trough, some carried dough to the oven, and some brought out the hot and smoking bread. Sparkle Spry watched all this with so much surprise that he didn’t know what to say or do. He saw the loaves of bread rise up in rows as high as the ceiling, and he sat and watched it as dumb as an oyster. He had seen bread baked, but he had never seen such baking as this.

“Finally the eye of the King of the Clinkers fell on Sparkle Spry. ‘Don’t sit there doing nothing,’ he cried. ‘Go fetch wood and pile it here by the furnace door. You can do that!’

“Sparkle Spry did as he was bid, but though he brought the wood as fast as he could, he found that he couldn’t bring it fast enough. Pretty soon the King of the Clinkers called out to him:

“‘You can rest now. The flour is all gone, and we have hardly begun.’

“‘There’s plenty in the storehouse,’ said Sparkle Spry.

“‘How many barrels?’ asked the King of the Clinkers.

“‘Two hundred,’ Sparkle Spry answered.

“The King of the Clinkers wrung his hands in despair. ‘Hardly a mouthful—hardly a mouthful! It will all be gone before the chickens crow for day. But run fetch the key. Two hundred barrels will keep us busy while they last.’

“Sparkle Spry brought the key of the storehouse door, and the little men swarmed in and rolled the barrels out in a jiffy. Only one accident happened. In taking the flour out of one of the barrels, after they had rolled it near the dough trough, one of the little men fell in and would have been drowned but for Sparkle Spry, who felt around in the loose flour and lifted him out.”

“Drowned!” cried Sweetest Susan.

“Of course,” answered Tickle-My-Toes. “Why not? I ought to have said ‘smothered,’ but now that I’ve said ‘drowned’ I’ll stick to it.”

“Better stick to the story,” remarked Mr. Rabbit solemnly,—“Better stick to the story.”

“Now, I think he’s doing very well,” said Mrs. Meadows in an encouraging tone.

“Well,” said Tickle-My-Toes, “the little men worked away until they had baked the two hundred barrels of flour into nice brown loaves of bread. This made five hundred barrels they had used, and that was all the baker had on hand. The fifteen hundred pounds of flour made twenty hundred and odd fat loaves, and these the King of the Clinkers had carried into the storehouse.

“When all this was done, and nicely done, the King of the Clinkers went to the door of the room where the baker and his wife were sleeping. They were snoring as peacefully as two good people ever did. Then he went to the street door and listened.

“‘Get home—get home!’ he cried to the little men. ‘I hear wagons rumbling on the pavement; they will be here presently for bread.’

“The little men scampered this way and that, behind the oven and into the ash heap, and, in a few seconds, all had disappeared.

“‘Now,’ said the King of the Clinkers, ‘I want to tell you that I’ve had a splendid time, and I’m very much obliged to you for it. I have enjoyed myself, and I want to make some returns for it. Pretty soon the bread wagons will be at the door clamoring for bread. You will wake the baker and his wife. When they find all their flour made into nice bread they will be very much surprised. They will ask you who did it. You must tell them the truth. They will not believe it, but they’ll be very proud of you. They will be willing to give you anything you want. Tell them you want a wooden horse. They will have it built for you. It must have a window on each side and good strong hinges in the legs. Good-by! I hear the wagons at the door.’

“The King of the Clinkers waved his hand and disappeared behind the oven. The wagons rattled near the door, the teamsters cracking their whips and calling for bread for the hungry army. Sparkle Spry ran to the baker and shook him, and ran to the baker’s wife and shook her. They were soon awake, but when the baker learned that the wagons had come for bread, he threw up both hands in despair.

“‘I’m ruined!’ he cried. ‘I ought to have been baking and here I’ve been sleeping! And the army marches away to-day, leaving me with all my stock of flour on hand. Oh, why didn’t the boy wake me?’

“‘Come,’ said his wife; ‘we’ll sell what we’ve got, and not cry over the rest.’

“They went into the storehouse, and there they saw a sight such as they had never seen before. The room was so full of steaming bread that they could hardly squeeze in at the door. From floor to ceiling it was stacked and packed. They sold and sold until every loaf was gone, and then, instead of the bread, the baker and his wife had a sack full of silver money.

“The baker went in to count it, but his wife took it away from him. ‘Not now,’ she said; ‘not until we have thanked this boy.’

“‘You are right!’ cried the baker. ‘It’s the most wonderful thing I ever heard of. How did you manage it?’

“‘Some little men helped me,’ answered Sparkle Spry.

“The woman seized his hands and kissed his fingers. ‘These are the little men,’ she exclaimed.

“‘There’s one thing I’m sorry for,’ said Sparkle Spry.

“‘What is that?’ asked the baker.

“‘Why, we had to burn so much wood.’

“‘Don’t mention it—don’t mention it,’ protested the baker.

“‘Now,’ said the baker’s wife, embracing Sparkle Spry again, ‘you deserve something for making us rich. What shall it be?’

“The baker frowned a little at this, but his brow cleared when Sparkle Spry replied that he wanted a wooden horse built.

“‘You shall have it,’ said the baker’s wife.

“‘Yes, indeed,’ assented the baker. ‘As fine a one as you want.’”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

XII.

THE TERRIBLE HORSE.

When Tickle-My-Toes had told about how pleased the baker and his wife were with Sparkle Spry, he paused and looked at Chickamy Crany Crow, as if he expected that she would beckon him away. But, instead of that, she said:—

“Why, that isn’t all.”

“Well, it’s enough, I hope,” replied Tickle-My-Toes.

“No,” said Mrs. Meadows, “it’s not enough, if there’s any more. Why, so far it’s the best of all the stories. It’s new to me. I had an idea that I had heard all the stories, but this one is a pole over my persimmon, as we used to say in the country next door.”

“I don’t like to tell stories,” protested Tickle-My-Toes, puckering his face in a comical way. “It’s too confining.”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit. “It’s time you were settling down. What will you look like a year or two from now, if you keep on cutting up your capers?”

Tickle-My-Toes caught hold of the corner of Chickamy Crany Crow’s apron, and, thus fortified, resumed his story:—

“Well, the baker and his wife promised Sparkle Spry they would have him a big wooden horse made, and they were as good as their word. They sent right off that very day for a carpenter and joiner, and when he came, Sparkle Spry showed the man what he wanted. He said the horse must be as much like a real horse as could be made out of wood, and three times as big.

“The man asked the baker’s wife what the brat wanted with such a machine as that, and this made the good woman mad.

“‘He’s no brat, I can tell you that!’ she exclaimed, ‘and if he wants a play horse as big as a whale and the same shape, he shall have it. Now if you want to make his play horse, get to work and make it. If not, I’ll get somebody else to make it.’

“But the man declared he meant no harm, and said he was glad to get the work. So he got the lumber, and in a few days, being a very clever workman, he had finished the wooden horse. He made it just as Sparkle Spry wanted him to. He put big hinges at the joints of the legs, cut a window in each side of the body, made the ears and the nostrils hollow, and fixed pieces of glass for the eyes.

“The carpenter seemed to enjoy his work, too, for every time he went off a little distance to see how his work looked, he laughed as hard as he could. When he was nearly done he asked Sparkle Spry if he wanted the roof shingled.

“‘Why, no,’ replied the boy. ‘There’s no roof there. Besides, horses don’t have shingles on them.’

“He’ll look pretty rough,” remarked the man.

“‘Yes,’ said Sparkle Spry, ‘but after you get through with him he is to be polished off.’

“‘That’s so,’ the carpenter assented, ‘but this horse has a good many things about him that other horses haven’t got.’

“So, when the carpenter was through with the horse, a leather finisher was sent for, and he covered the horse with hides of cows tanned with the hair on, and fixed a cow’s tail where the horse’s tail should have been.

“The baker grumbled a little at this extra expense, and said he was afraid Sparkle Spry had strained his head the night he baked so much bread. But the baker’s wife said she would like to have a whole house full of crazy children, if Sparkle Spry was crazy.

“When the wooden horse was finished, Sparkle Spry waited until the baker and his wife had gone to bed, and then he tapped on the oven and whistled. Presently the King of the Clinkers peeped out to see what the matter was. He came from behind the oven cautiously, until he found that Sparkle Spry was alone, and then he came forth boldly.

“‘The horse is ready,’ said Sparkle Spry.

“‘Ready!’ exclaimed the King of the Clinkers. ‘Well, I think it is high time. My workmen could have built it in a night; and here I have been waiting and waiting for I don’t know how long.’

“‘I hope you’ll like it,’ Sparkle Spry suggested.

“‘Like it!’ cried the King of the Clinkers. ‘Why, of course I’ll like it. I haven’t enjoyed a ride in so long that I’m not likely to quarrel with the horse that carries me.’

“‘But this is a wooden horse,’ remarked Sparkle Spry.

“‘I should hope so; yes, indeed!’ grunted the King of the Clinkers. ‘I have been riding wooden horses as long as I can remember. They may be a little clumsy, but they suit me.’

“‘But this horse has no rockers,’ persisted Sparkle Spry. ‘It is as solid as a house.’

“‘Much you know about wooden horses,’ said the King of the Clinkers. ‘Wait; I’ll call my torchbearers.’

“He tapped on the oven with his tiny poker, and immediately a company of little men filed out from behind it. As they passed the furnace door they lit their torches at a live coal, and marched out to the wooden horse, followed by the King of the Clinkers and Sparkle Spry.

“The latter had reason to be very much astonished at what he saw then and afterwards. The torchbearers led the way to the left foreleg of the wooden horse, opened a door, and filed up a spiral stairway, the King of the Clinkers following after. Sparkle Spry climbed up by means of a stepladder that the carpenter had used. When he crawled through the window in the side of the wooden horse, he saw that a great transformation had taken place, and the sight of it almost took his breath away.

“A furnace with a small bake oven had been fitted up, and there was also a supply of flour, coal, and wood. The flue from the furnace ran in the inside of the horse’s neck, finding a vent for the smoke at the ears. On all sides were to be seen the tools and furniture of a bakery, and there were places where the little men might stow themselves away when they were not on duty, and there was a special apartment for the King of the Clinkers.

“In a little while the whole interior of the horse swarmed with the followers of the King of the Clinkers, who stood counting them as they came in.

“‘All here,’ he said, waving his little poker. ‘Now get to bed and rest yourselves.’

“They complied so promptly that they seemed to disappear as if by magic. The torchbearers had thrown their torches in the furnace, and as wood had already been placed there, a fire was soon kindled.

“‘Now,’ said the King of the Clinkers, closing the draught, ‘we’ll let it warm up a little and see if the carpenter has done his work well.’

“Thereupon he pulled a cord that seemed to be tied to a bell, and, in a little while, Sparkle Spry felt that the horse was in motion. He hardly knew what to make of it. He went to the window and peeped out, and the lights in the houses seemed to be all going to the rear. Occasionally a creaking sound was heard, and sometimes he could feel a jar or jolt in the horse’s frame.

“‘Are we flying?’ he asked, turning to the King of the Clinkers.

“‘Flying! Nothing of the sort. Don’t you feel a jolt when the horse lifts up a foot and puts it down again? I’m mighty glad it is a pacing horse. If it was a trotting horse it would shake us all to pieces.’

“‘Where are we going?’ inquired Sparkle Spry.

“‘Following the army—following the army,’ replied the King of the Clinkers. ‘There’s going to be a big battle not far from here, and we may take a hand in it. The king of the country is a fat old rascal, and isn’t very well thought of by the rest of the kings, who are his cousins; but I live here, and he has never bothered me. Consequently, I don’t mind helping him out in a pinch.’

“‘How far do you have to go?’ asked Sparkle Spry, who had no great relish for war if it was as hard as he had heard it was.

“‘Oh, a good many miles,’ replied the King of the Clinkers, ‘and we are not getting on at all. There’s not enough mutton suet on the knee hinges to suit me.’

“So saying, he struck the bell twice, and instantly Sparkle Spry could feel that the wooden horse was going faster.

“‘Does the horse go by the road or through the fields?’ asked Sparkle Spry.

“‘Oh, we take short cuts when necessary,’ answered the King of the Clinkers. ‘We have no time to go round by the road. I hope you are not scared.’

“‘No, not scared,’ replied Sparkle Spry somewhat doubtfully; ‘but it makes me feel queer to be traveling through the country in a wooden horse.’

“Nothing more was said for some time, and Sparkle Spry must have dropped off to sleep, for suddenly he was aroused by the voice of the King of the Clinkers, who called out:—

“‘Here we are! Get up! Stir about!’

“Sparkle Spry jumped to his feet and looked from the window. Day was just dawning, and on the plain before him he saw hundreds of twinkling lights, as if a shower of small stars had fallen to the ground during the night. Being somewhat dazed by his experiences, he asked what they were.

“‘Camp-fires,’ replied the King of the Clinkers. ‘The army that we are going to attack is camped further away, but if you will lift your eyes a little, you will see their camp-fires.’

“‘Do we attack them by ourselves?’ Sparkle Spry asked.

“‘Of course!’ the King of the Clinkers answered. ‘I never did like too much company; besides, I want you to get the credit of it.’

“‘Now, I’d rather be certain of a whole skin than to have any credit,’ protested Sparkle Spry.

“But the King of the Clinkers paid no attention to his protests. He gave his orders to his little men, and strutted about with an air of importance that Sparkle Spry would have thought comical if he had not been thinking of the battle.

“Daylight came on and drowned out the camp-fires, leaving only thin columns of blue smoke to mark them. The wooden horse moved nearer and nearer to the army directly in front of them, and finally came close to the headquarters of the commanding general, who sent out a soldier to inquire the meaning of the apparition. Finally the general came himself, accompanied by his staff, and to him Sparkle Spry repeated what the King of the Clinkers had told him to say. The general pulled his mustache and knitted his brows mightily, and finally he said:—

“‘I’m obliged to you for coming. You’ll have to do the best you can. I never have commanded a wooden horse, and if I were to tell you what to do, I might get you into trouble. I’ll just send word along the line that the wooden horse is on our side, and you’ll have to do the best you can.’

“As he said, so he did. The army soon knew that a big wooden horse had come to help it, and when the queer-looking machine moved to the front, the soldiers got out of the way as fast as they could, and some of them forgot to carry their arms with them. But order was soon restored, and presently it was seen that the opposing army was marching forward to begin the battle.

“The King of the Clinkers waited until the line was formed, and then he sounded the little bell. The horse started off. The bell rang twice, and the horse went faster. Sparkle Spry, looking from the window, could see that he was going at a tremendous rate. The horse went close to the opposing army, and then turned and went down the line to the left. Turning, it came up the line, this time very close. Turning again, it came back, and the soldiers in the front line were compelled to scamper out of the way. While this was going on, the other army came up, but by the time it arrived on the battle-ground there was nothing to fight.

THE WOODEN HORSE HAD STAMPEDED THE ENEMY’S ARMY
]

“The wooden horse had stampeded the enemy’s army, and the soldiers had all run away, leaving their arms, their tents, and their bread wagons to be captured.

“The commanding general of the victorious army thanked Sparkle Spry very heartily. ‘I’ll mention your name in my report to the king,’ he said. ‘But I hardly know what to say about the affair. You wouldn’t call this a battle, would you?’

“‘No,’ replied Sparkle Spry, ‘I saw no signs of a battle where I went along.’

“‘It is very curious,’ said the general. ‘I don’t know what we are coming to. A great victory, but nobody killed and no prisoners taken.’

“Then he went off to write his report, and some time afterward the king sent for Sparkle Spry, and gave him lands and houses and money, and made him change his every-day name for a high-sounding one. And the baker and his wife came to live near him, and the King of the Clinkers used to come at night with all his little men, and they had a very good time after all, in spite of the high-sounding name.”

With this, Tickle-My-Toes turned and ran away as hard as he could, whereupon Mr. Rabbit opened his eyes and asked in the most solemn way:—

“Is there a wooden horse after him? I wish you’d look.”

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XIII.

HOW BROTHER LION LOST HIS WOOL.

Mr. Rabbit shaded his eyes with his hand, and pretended to believe that there might be a wooden horse trying to catch Tickle-My-Toes after all. But Mrs. Meadows said that there was no danger of anything like that. She explained that Tickle-My-Toes was running away because he didn’t want to hear what was said about his story.

“I think he’s right,” remarked Mr. Rabbit. “It was the queerest tale I ever heard in all my life. You might sit and listen to tales from now until—well—until the first Tuesday before the last Saturday in the year seven hundred thousand, seven hundred and seventy-seven, and you’d never hear another tale like it.”

“I don’t see why,” suggested Mrs. Meadows.