Chapter V: Part 5

“And so it happened,” continued Mr. Rabbit. “Since that time, there have been no Monkeys in this country. They had to cross the big water, and when they got over there they had to live in the trees; and I expect they are living that way yet—at least, they were at last accounts.”

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XVII.

THE RABBIT AND THE MOON.

“I reckon that’s so about the Monkeys,” remarked Mrs. Meadows. “They used to be in the country next door, and now they are no longer there.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Rabbit; “it’s just like I tell you: they were there once, but now they are not there any more. But in the world next door everybody has his ups and downs, especially his downs. I’ve heard my great-grandfather tell many a time how our family used to live close to the Moon. So I don’t make any brags about the way the Monkeys had to take to the bushes. I remember about my own family, and then I feel like hanging my head down and saying nothing. It is a very funny feeling, too. When I think we used to live close to the Moon, and that we now live on the ground and have to crawl there like snails, I sometimes feel like crying; and I tell you right now if I was to begin to boo-hoo, you’d be astonished.”

Buster John and Sweetest Susan looked very serious, but Drusilla showed a desire to laugh.

“You say you used to live close to the Moon?” asked Buster John, with more curiosity than usual.

“Why, certainly,” replied Mr. Rabbit. “I don’t say that I did, but I’m certain that my family did. I’ve heard my great-grandfather tell about it a hundred times. I’ve heard that it was a better country up there than it is where you live, even better than it is down here,—a good deal more fun and fiddling, and not half so much looking around for something to eat. That is the great trouble. If we didn’t have to scuffle around and get something to eat, we’d be lots better off.

“It’s mighty funny. If you let well enough alone, you are all right; but the minute you try to better it, everything goes wrong.”

“Dat wuz de way wid ol’ man Adam,” remarked Drusilla.

“Why, of course,” said Mr. Rabbit, “and it was the way with all the Rabbits and everybody and everything else.”

“But how did they live up there by the Moon?” asked Sweetest Susan. “How did they keep from falling off?”

Mr. Rabbit scratched his head a little before replying. “Well,” said he, after awhile, “they got along just as we do down here,—heads up and feet down. But one time, as I’ve heard my great-grandfather say, the Moon got into a sort of fidget, and was mighty restless for quite a while. At last, one of our family, the oldest of all, made bold to look over the fence and ask the Moon what the trouble was. He noticed, too, that the Moon had shrunk considerably, and seemed to be in a very bad way. It could hardly hold up its head.

“But the Moon managed to look up when it heard the fuss at the fence, and, in a very shaky voice, told the oldest of all the Rabbits howdy.

“WHAT IS THE TROUBLE?” SAYS THE OLDEST RABBIT
]

“‘What is the trouble?’ says the oldest Rabbit. Says he, ‘Can I do anything to help you?’

“‘I’m afraid not,’ says the Moon. ‘You are not nimble enough.’

“‘Maybe I’m nimbler than you think,’ says the oldest Rabbit.

“‘Well,’ says the Moon, ‘I’ll tell you what the trouble is. I want to get a message to Mr. Man, who lives in the world down yonder. I’ve been shining on him at night, and I’ve caught a bad cold by being out after dark. My health is breaking down, and if I don’t put out my lights for a while and take a rest, I’ll have to go out altogether. Now, it’s like this: I’ve been shining for Mr. Man so long that if I don’t send him some word he’ll think something serious has happened. I must take a rest, but I want to send him a message, telling him that I won’t be gone long.’

“‘Well,’ says the oldest Rabbit, ‘I don’t mind going, if you’ll show me the way and tell me what to say.’

“So the Moon pointed out the way, and showed him how to put his fingers in his ears and hold his breath when he took the long jump. Then it gave him this message:—

_‘I am growing weak to gather strength:
I go into the shadows to gather light.’_

“The oldest Rabbit said this message over to himself many times, and then he got ready for the journey. Everything went well until he came to the long jump. But he braced himself, and shut his eyes, and put his fingers in his ears, and held his breath. Now, the jump was a long one, sure enough. It was so long that the oldest Rabbit opened one eye, and then he got the notion that he was falling instead of jumping, and he opened both eyes so wide that they have been that way ever since. This scared him terribly, and by the time he landed on the world he had forgotten what he came for. He wasn’t hurt a bit, but he was badly scared.

“He sat on the ground and tried to remember, and then he got up and walked about. Finally, he looked up and saw the Moon winking one eye at him. Then he thought about the message, and he ran off to Mr. Man’s house, and knocked at the door. Mr. Man had gone to bed, but he got up and opened the door, and asked what was wanted.

“‘Well,’ says the oldest Rabbit, ‘I’ve just come from the Moon with a message for you.’

“‘What is it?’ says Mr. Man.

“‘The Moon told me to tell you this:—

‘_I’m growing weak and have no strength:
I’m going off where the shadows are dark._’

“Mr. Man scratched his head. He couldn’t make the message out. Then he said, ‘Take this message back:—

‘_Seldom seen and soon forgot:
When a Moon dies her feet get cold._’

“The oldest Rabbit bowed politely and started back home. He came to the Jumping-Off Place, and then he took the long jump. He was soon at home, and went at once to the Moon’s house, and gave the message that Mr. Man had sent. This made the Moon very mad. It declared that the oldest Rabbit had carried the wrong message. Then it grabbed the shovel and struck him in the face. This made the oldest Rabbit very mad, and he jumped at the Moon and used his claws. The fight was a hard one, and you can see the marks of it to this day. All the Rabbits have their upper lips split, and the Moon still has the marks on its face where the oldest Rabbit clawed it.

“The way of it was this,” continued Mr. Rabbit, seeing that the children had hardly caught the drift of the story: “the Moon had been shining constantly for many years, and was growing weak. It wanted to take a rest, and it was afraid Mr. Man would get scared when he failed to see it at night. Since that time the Moon has been taking a rest about every two weeks. At least it used to be that way. I never bother about it now.”

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XVIII.

WHY THE BEAR IS A WRESTLER.

“Well,” said Mr. Rabbit, after a pause, “what about the story? Was there any moral to it?”

“None at all,” replied Mrs. Meadows. “It was just an old-time tale.”

“Now, I’m truly glad to hear you say so,” cried Mr. Rabbit, appearing to be very much pleased. “It’s as good as taking a nap.” He winked gravely at Buster John, and then proceeded to refill his pipe.

“I thought it was a pretty good story,” said Buster John. “It turned out to be a story so quick that it was all over with before I knew it was a story.”

“Well,” replied Mr. Rabbit, “I had to tell it mighty quick. Suppose I had stopped to light my pipe and left my own kin dangling between the Moon and the World! I knew in reason it would never do, and so I rattled away almost as fast as the oldest Rabbit jumped. It was a long story quickly told of a long journey quickly made.”

Mr. Rabbit seemed to be in better humor than ever. He leaned back, and patted the ground softly with one foot.

“Speaking of journeys,” he said, after awhile, “makes me think about how Brother Bear started out in the world. But what am I doing?” he cried. “I don’t want to do all the talking. I don’t have any chance to sleep unless somebody else is telling a story.”

“Now, please tell us the story,” pleaded Sweetest Susan.

“I’ll have to,” replied Mr. Rabbit, “since I’ve got it started. Well, one time when Brother Bear was young, the time came for him to scratch around and scuffle for himself. He had already learned how to grabble for sweet potatoes, how to tote an armful of roasting ears, and how to shut his eyes and rob a bee-tree, and so his daddy thought it was about time for him to go off and earn his own living. Brother Bear said he was more than willing, and when he came to tell his folks good-by, his daddy gave him seven pieces of honey-in-the-comb, saying:—

“‘This is all I have to give you, but it’s enough. Whoever eats this honey with you will have to wrestle with you seven years or give you everything he owns.’

“So Brother Bear put his seven pieces of honey-in-the-comb in a bag, slung the bag over his back, and went shuffling down the big road. He traveled all that day, and camped out in the woods at night. The next morning, just as he was about to eat breakfast, he heard a rustling in the bushes, and presently Brother Tiger came slipping and sliding along, hunting for his breakfast. Brother Bear howdied, and Brother Tiger said he was only tolerable—not as peart as he might be, and yet pearter than he had been. Then Brother Tiger sat and watched Brother Bear take put a piece of his honey-in-the-comb, and the sight made his mouth water. Brother Bear noticed this, and he says, says he:—

“‘I wish you mighty well, Brother Tiger, and I’d like to ask you to have some of my breakfast, for I have more than a plenty for two. But the trouble is, that whoever eats any of this honey-in-the-comb will have to wrestle with me seven years or give me all his belongings.’

“‘Don’t let that bother you,’ says Brother Tiger, says he. ‘I’m a pretty good wrestler myself, and I don’t mind trying my hand with you after I’ve tasted your honey-in-the-comb.’

“But Brother Bear hemmed and hawed, and acted so that Brother Tiger thought he was either afraid to wrestle or mighty stingy with his honey-in-the-comb. He thought so, and he said so, and this put Brother Bear on his mettle. So he says, says he:—

“‘Well, Brother Tiger, come and get a piece of my honey-in-the-comb. I’m more than glad to give it to you, and sorry, too, because, as sure as you eat it, you’ll be put under a spell, and you’ll be obliged to wrestle with me seven long years or give me all your belongings.’

“Brother Tiger grinned from ear to ear. Says he, ‘If I don’t have to wrestle before I get the honey-in-the-comb, it will be all right. Just let me get my fill of that, and I’ll wrestle with you seven times seven years. I’ll promise to make you tired of wrestling.’

“‘So be it,’ says Brother Bear. ‘Come and get the honey-in-the-comb, and take all you want, for I won’t need any after I’ve wrestled with you a time or two,’ says he.

“Brother Tiger went up and tasted the honey-in-the-comb, and it was so good that he smacked his lips and asked for more. Brother Bear gave him some. After both had eat as much as they wanted, Brother Tiger took a notion to go home, but something held him back. The spell was working. But finally he pulled himself together, and said he believed he’d go home and see his old woman.

“But Brother Bear chuckled to himself. Says he, ‘Now that you’ve gobbled up my honey-in-the-comb, you don’t want to wrestle. You can’t help yourself. When I say wrestle, you’ll have to wrestle. You can go home now, but to-morrow, bright and early, I’ll knock at your door, and you’ll have to come out and wrestle.’

“Says Brother Tiger, says he, ‘I’ll be more than glad to accommodate you. Just knock at the door any hour after daybreak, and you’ll find me on hand.’

“Says Brother Bear, ‘I’ll do so, I’ll do so. Just remember your spoken word, Brother Tiger!’

“Brother Tiger started home, but before he had gone very far he began to feel mighty queer. He had a buzzing noise in his head and a creepy, crawly feeling on his hide. He began to get scared. Once he thought the honey had poisoned him, but he wasn’t sick. He never felt better in his life. He wanted to jump and run, and I believe the tale does say that he capered around a time or two. But every time he’d start home he’d have that buzzing sound in his head and that creepy, crawly feeling in his hide.

“So, by and by, he thought he would turn back and see what Brother Bear thought about it. No sooner said than done. He went back at a hand gallop, and found Brother Bear curled up at the foot of a tree fast asleep. The honey had made him feel so good that he concluded to enjoy himself by taking another nap. But he got up brisk enough when he heard Brother Tiger calling him, and by the time he had rubbed his eyes once or twice, and gaped and stretched himself, he was as wide awake as ever.

“Says he, ‘I knew you’d come back, Brother Tiger, and so I just waited for you; and while I was waiting I ups and drops off to sleep. But anyhow and anyway, here you are, and there’s no harm done.’

“Says Brother Tiger, says he, ‘I just came back to ask you about the queer feeling I have.’

“Says Brother Bear, ‘That’s easy enough. You just wanted to wrestle, and so you had to come back. I have the feeling most all the time when I’m not sleeping or eating. It’s a sort of zooning sound in the ears, and a sort of ticklish feeling on the hide. Well, there isn’t anything the matter at all. You just want to wrestle, and as the feeling is new to you, you didn’t know what it was.’

“Says Brother Tiger, ‘I believe you are right, Brother Bear; I believe that’s the whole trouble.’

“‘Well,’ says Brother Bear, ‘I’ll try you one round, just to loosen up my hide and put me in traveling trim. I’ll not wrestle with you very hard, because you are not used to it, and it’s too soon to get down to business with you. I told you about it when you wanted to eat the honey, but you would eat it, and now you’ll have to wrestle with me, off and on, first and last, for seven long years; and if you don’t, you’ll have to give me your house and all your belongings.’

“So they took off their coats and made ready to wrestle. ‘As you are not used to these capers,’ says Brother Bear, ‘I’ll give you all-under holt, and promise not to use the in-turn, the ham-twist, or the knee-lock.’

“Now, Brother Tiger didn’t know whether Brother Bear was talking Latin or Chinese, but he said nothing: he just stood up and grabbed Brother Bear around the waist, or where the waist ought to be.

“‘When you are ready,’ says Brother Bear, ‘just give the word.’

“‘Well,’ says Brother Tiger, ‘I reckon I’m as ready now as I ever will be.’

“With that Brother Bear hugged Brother Tiger pretty tight, whirled around with him a time or two, fell on him, and then cuffed him, first on one ear and then on the other. It was all done so quick that Brother Tiger didn’t have time to say don’t. He got up and felt of his ribs to see if they were still whole, and then he rubbed the side of his head where Brother Bear had cuffed him. It had already begun to swell. His breeches were badly ripped, and he was sore all over.

HE RUBBED THE SIDE OF HIS HEAD
]

“Says he, ‘And so this is what you call wrestling—this is what I was itching for, is it?’

“‘Oh, no!’ says Brother Bear. ‘It wouldn’t do to call that wrestling. That was only playing. I was just showing you the first few capers: you can’t wrestle until you learn how. I’ll drop by your house to-morrow morning, bright and early, and give you another whirl.’

“Brother Tiger looked mighty solemn, but he didn’t say anything. He ambled off home as well as he could in his condition, and got his old woman to mend his breeches. She wanted to know who he had been fighting with, but he told her he had just been playing with Brother Bear. She laughed, and said that when he had played that way a few more times there wouldn’t be enough of him left, neither breeches, body, nor bones, to sew up in a bag.

“Well, the next morning, bright and early, Brother Bear rapped at Brother Tiger’s door, and told him to come out and take some exercise before breakfast. Brother Tiger didn’t like this invitation at all. He said he wanted to sleep a little longer; but Brother Bear sent in word that the night was made for sleeping, while the day was made for work and play. Now, it so happened that the honey which Brother Tiger had ate had put a spell on him, and when Brother Bear asked him out to wrestle he had to come. He pulled on his clothes with no good heart, for he was still very sore, and came limping out, trying to put a good face on the affair. Brother Bear laughed, and told Brother Tiger howdy, but Brother Tiger didn’t make much of a reply.

“So Brother Bear says, says he, ‘I hope you are not begrudging your bargain, Brother Tiger, but you made it yourself, and at no invitation of mine. I had the seven pieces of honey-in-the-comb, and you had the bad taste in the mouth. I told you how it would be, but you would have the honey, and now you’ll have to stand to your bargain: you can’t help yourself now. I told you the plain truth about it, but you wouldn’t believe it. You’ll find out the truth before you get the taste of that honey out of your mouth.’

“Then they made a few passes at each other; but Brother Bear finally grabbed Brother Tiger around his striped waist, squeezed the breath out of him, dashed him on the ground, cuffed his ears, and then stood there on his hind legs, waiting to see what Brother Tiger was going to do. But Brother Tiger didn’t want any more wrestling for that day. He went into the house and washed his face and hands, and sat down and licked his bruises the best he could.

“But the next morning he had to come out and wrestle again, and this happened until he was so weak he could hardly walk. His hide was split, his ears were swollen, and every stripe on his long body was crossed by a scar. Wrestling was fine fun for Brother Bear, who was used to it, but it was no fun for Brother Tiger, who didn’t know how. Every time he wrestled he got new bruises, and his head swelled until he could hardly get in the door of his house without backing his ears.

“Finally, one day he told Brother Bear candidly that he would rather give up his house and lot than to be tossed around and cuffed at that rate. Brother Bear said that he would rather wrestle and have a jolly time than to take Brother Tiger’s house; but Brother Tiger wouldn’t hear to that. He said he couldn’t stay in that part of the country and hear the talk of the neighbors. They would pester him mighty near to death on the week days, and fairly kill him out on Sunday, when they had nothing to do but sit around and gossip.

“So Brother Tiger moved out, and Brother Bear moved in; and it has come to pass that Brother Tiger won’t stay in the same country with Brother Bear for fear that he will have to do some more wrestling.”

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XIX.

THE SHOEMAKER WHO MADE BUT ONE SHOE.

“Now, I’ll tell you honestly,” said Little Mr. Thimblefinger, popping out from under Mr. Rabbit’s big armchair, “I don’t like such stories. They give me the all-overs. I expect maybe it’s because they are true.”

“No doubt that’s the trouble with them,” remarked Mr. Rabbit in a tone unusually solemn. “You don’t think that at my time of life my tongue is nimble enough for me to sit here and make up stories to suit the hour and the company? By the bye,” he continued, turning around so as to catch Little Mr. Thimblefinger’s eye, “what stories were you talking about?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, I was fast asleep, for the most part, but I distinctly remember something about Moons and Monkeys. When I heard that, I just went off to sleep in spite of myself.”

“There’s no accounting for tastes,” said Mr. Rabbit. “There are some tales that put me to sleep, and I have no complaint to make when anybody begins to doze over them that I tell.”

“Oh, you tell ’em well enough,” Little Mr. Thimblefinger declared. “If anything, you make them better than they ought to be. You lift your ears at the right place, and pat your foot when the time comes. I don’t know what more could be asked in telling a story.”

“So far so good,” remarked Mrs. Meadows, who had thus far said nothing. “Suppose you whirl in and tell us the kind of tale that you really admire.”

“That’s easier said than done,” replied Little Mr. Thimblefinger, fidgeting about a little. “You have to take the tales as they come. Sometimes one will pop into your head in spite of yourself. You remember it just because you didn’t like it when you first heard it.”

“Tell us one, anyway, just to pass away the time,” said Sweetest Susan.

“If I tell you one,” Little Mr. Thimblefinger replied, “I’ll not promise it will be one that I like. That would be promising too much. But the talk about the Moon, that I heard before I dozed off just now, reminded me of a tale I heard when I was a good deal smaller than I am now.

“Once upon a time there was a man who had two sons. They were twins, but they were just as different from each other as they could possibly be. One was dark, and the other was light complected. One was slim, and the other was fat. One was good, and the other was what people call bad. He was lazy, and full of fun and mischief. They grew up that way until they were nineteen or twenty years old. The good boy would work hard every day, or pretend to work hard, and then he’d go back home and tell his mother and father that his brother hadn’t done a stroke of work. Of course, this made the old people feel very queer. The mother felt sorrowful, and the father felt angry. This went on, until finally, one day, the father became so angry that he concluded to take his bad son into some foreign country, and bind him out to some person who could make him work and cure him of his mischievousness. In those days people sometimes bound out their children to learn trades and good manners and things of that sort.”

“I wish dey’d do it now,” exclaimed Drusilla. “Kaze den I wouldn’t hafter be playin’ nuss, an’ be gwine in all kind er quare places whar you dunner when ner whar you kin git out.”

“Stuff!” cried Buster John. “Why don’t you be quiet and listen to the story?”

“It go long too slow fer ter suit me,” said Drusilla in a grumbling tone.

“Well,” remarked Mr. Thimblefinger, turning to Buster John, “you’ve come mighty close to telling a part of the tale I had in my mind.”

“I don’t see how,” replied Buster John with some surprise.

“You said ‘stuff!’” responded Mr. Thimblefinger, “and that’s a part of my story. If you listen, you’ll soon find out. As I was saying, people in old times bound out their sons to some good man, who taught them a good trade or something of that kind. Well, this man that I was telling you about took his bad son off to a foreign country, and tried to find some one to bind him out to. They traveled many days and nights. They went over mountains and passed through valleys. They crossed plains, and they went through the wild woods.

“Now, the man who was taking his son into a foreign country was getting old, and the farther they walked, the more tired he grew. At last, one day, when they were going through the big woods, he sat down to rest near a tall poplar-tree, and, turning to his son, said angrily:—

“‘Stuff! you are not worth all this trouble. But for you I’d be at home now, enjoying myself and smoking my pipe.’

“The son, who was used to these outbreaks, made no reply, but stretched himself out on the dead leaves that littered the ground. He had hardly done so when there was a tremendous noise in the woods, and then both father and son saw rushing toward them an old man with a long beard, followed by a small army of fierce-looking dwarfs armed with clubs and knives and pikes. They rushed up and surrounded the father and son.

“‘Which of you called my name and abused me?’ cried the old man with the long beard.

“‘Not I,’ said the bad son.

“‘Not I,’ said the father. ‘I am sure I never saw you or heard of you before.’

“This made the old man more furious than ever. He fairly trembled with rage. ‘Didn’t I hear one of you say, “Stuff! but for you I’d be at home now enjoying myself, and smoking my pipe?”’

“‘I did say something like that,’ replied the father in great astonishment.

“‘How dare you?’ cried the old man, beside himself with rage. ‘How did I ever harm you? Seize him!’ he said to his army of dwarfs. ‘Seize him, and bind him hard and fast! I’ll show him whether he can come into my kingdom and abuse me!’

“The father was speechless with astonishment, and made no attempt to prevent the dwarfs from seizing and binding him. They had him tied hard and fast before he could say a word, even if he had had a word to say. But by this time the son had risen to his feet.

“‘Wait!’ he cried, ‘let’s see what the trouble is! Who are you?’ he inquired, turning to the old man with the long beard.

“‘My name is Stuff,’ he replied, ‘and I am king of this country which you are passing through. I’m not going to allow any one to abuse me in my own kingdom. You may go free, but mind you go straight back the way you came.’

“The son thought the matter over a little while, and then turned on his heel and went back the way he had come, and, as he walked, he whistled all the lively tunes he could think of. For a time he was glad that his father was no longer with him to quarrel and complain; but finally he grew lonely, and then he began to think how his father had raised him up from a little child. The more he thought about this, the sorrier he was that he had given his father any trouble. He sat down on a log by the side of the road and thought it all over, and presently he began to cry.

A QUEER-LOOKING LITTLE MAN CAME JOGGING ALONG THE ROAD
]

“While he was sitting there with his head between his hands, crying over the fate of his father, a queer-looking little man came jogging along the road. He had bushy hair and a beard that grew all over his face, except right around his eyes and lips and the tip-end of his nose. His beard was not long, but it was very thick, and it stood out around his face like the spokes in a buggy-wheel. He seemed to be in a big hurry, but when he saw the young man sitting on the log crying, he stopped, and stared at him.

“‘Tut, tut!’ he cried. ‘What’s all this? Who has hurt your feelings?’

“If the young man had not been so sorrowful, he would have been surprised to see the queer-looking little man standing by him. But, as it was, he didn’t seem to be surprised at all. He just looked at the stranger with red eyes.

“‘My name is Mum,’ said the stranger, ‘and I’m the Man in the Moon. Tell me your troubles. Maybe I can help you. I’m in a great hurry, because the Moon must change day after to-morrow, and I must be there to lend a hand; but I’ll not allow my hurry to prevent me from hearing your troubles and helping you if I can.’

“So then and there the young man told his story, and the Man in the Moon sighed heavily when he heard it.

“‘I see how it is,’ he said. ‘You are young and thoughtless, and your father is old and crabbed. You never thought of what you owed him, and he never made any allowances for your youth. He’s in no danger. I know old Stuff well. I’ve watched him many a night when he thought nobody had an eye on him, and he’s a pretty tough and cunning customer. You must have help if you get your father out of trouble.’

“‘What am I to do?’ asked the young man.

“‘Well,’ replied the Man in the Moon, ‘in the first place you will have to go home. Say nothing about the trouble your father is in. Just tell your mother that he has lost the sole of his shoe, and has sent you for the awl that is in the big red cupboard, a piece of leather, a handful of pegs, and a piece of wax.’

“‘What then?’ the young man inquired.

“‘Bring them here,’ said the Man in the Moon. ‘By the time you get back, I will have another holiday. We’ll put our heads together and see what can be done.’

“The young man made no delay. He was so anxious about his father that he started for home at once. It was a long journey, but he lost no time on the way. He was in rags and tatters when he reached home, but that made no difference to him. He took no time to eat, or to sleep, or to rest, but went to his mother at once, and told her that his father had lost the sole of his shoe, and had sent for the awl that lay in the big red cupboard, a strong piece of leather, a handful of shoe-pegs, and a cake of shoemaker’s wax.

“His mother asked him a great many questions, as women will, but all the answer the son would make was that his father had lost the sole of his shoe, and had sent for the awl that lay in the big red cupboard, a strong piece of leather, a handful of shoe-pegs, and a cake of shoemaker’s wax. Of course, the mother was very much worried. She finally came to the conclusion that some great calamity had befallen her husband, and she went about crying and wringing her hands, and declaring that they were all ruined; that her husband was dead; and that more than likely he had been murdered by this bad, bad son of hers, who had no other story to tell except to ask for the awl that lay in the big red cupboard, a strong piece of leather, a handful of shoe-pegs, and a cake of shoemaker’s wax.

“Now, the good son heard all this, but he said nothing. He just folded his hands and fetched a sigh or two, and seemed to be sorry for everything in general. But while the mother was going about wringing her hands and weeping, and the good son was heaving and fetching his sighs, the other son went to the big red cupboard. There on a shelf he saw the awl sticking in a cake of shoemaker’s wax. Near it was a strong piece of leather, and close by was a handful of shoe-pegs. He took these, changed his ragged coat, and started back on his journey.

“Now, although the good son did nothing but sigh and look sorry, he had deep ideas of his own. The reason he was called the good son was because he was so cunning. He thought to himself that now would be a good time to do a fine stroke of business. He knew that his brother had something more on his mind than the awl, the leather, the pegs, and the shoemaker’s wax, and he wanted to find out about it. So he ran after his brother to ask him what the real trouble was. He caught up with him a little way beyond the limits of the village, but no satisfaction could he get. Then he began to abuse his brother and to accuse him of all sorts of things.

“But the son, who was trying to get his father out of trouble, paid no attention to this. He went forward on his journey, turning his head neither to the right nor to the left. The good brother (as he was called) followed along after the best he could, being determined to see the end of the business. But somehow it happened that, on the second day, the brother who was going to meet the Man in the Moon was so tired and worn out that he was compelled to crawl under a haystack and go to sleep. In this way the good brother passed him on the road and went forward on his journey, never doubting that the other was just ahead of him. Finally, one day, the good brother grew tired and sat down on a log to rest. He sat there so long that the brother he thought he was following came up. He was very much surprised to see his nice and good brother sitting on a log and nodding in that country. So he woke him up and asked him what the trouble was.

“‘Stuff!’ cried the other, ‘you know you have made way with our father!’

“At once there was a roaring noise in the woods and a rustling sound in the underbrush, and out came an old man with a long beard, followed by an army of dwarfs.

“‘How dare you abuse me in my own kingdom?’ he cried to the good brother. ‘How did I ever harm you?’

“The brother, who had seen this game played before, tried to explain, but King Stuff would listen to no explanation. He commanded his armed dwarfs to seize and bind the good brother, and they soon carried him out of sight in spite of his cries.

“Now, the young man who had gone home for the awl and the axe and the shoemaker’s wax was very much puzzled. He had more business on his hands than he knew what to do with. He saw that he must now rescue his brother as well as his father, and he didn’t know how to go about it. He had the awl and the axe and the shoemaker’s wax. He also had the shoe-pegs and leather that he found together. But what was he to do with them? He sat on the log and thought about it a long time.

“While he was sitting there, and just as he was about to go forward on his journey, he heard some one coming briskly down the road singing. He heard enough of the song to be very much interested in it. It ran thus:—

“‘With the awl and the axe
And the shoemaker’s wax,
And the pegs and the leather
That were found close together
Where the old man had fling’d ’em,
We’ll bore through and roar through;
We’ll cut down, we’ll put down,
This king and his kingdom.’

“Of course, it was the Man in the Moon who was coming along the road singing the song, and he seemed to be in high good humor. He caught sight of the solemn face of the young man and began to laugh.

“‘There you are!’ cried Mum, the Man in the Moon, ‘and I’m glad to see you; but I’d feel a great deal better if you didn’t look so lonesome. I don’t know what to do about it. Your face is as long as a hind quarter of beef.’

“‘I can’t help it,’ replied the young man. ‘I am in deeper trouble than ever. My brother has been carried off by the same people that captured my father.’

“‘What of it?’ exclaimed the Man in the Moon. ‘If you knew as much about that brother of yours as I do, you’d go on about your business, and let him stay where he is.’

“‘No,’ said the young man. ‘I couldn’t do that. I know he is my brother, and that is enough. And then there’s my father.’

“The Man in the Moon looked at the young man a long time, and finally said:—

“‘Since we are to have a sort of holiday together, maybe you won’t mind telling me your name.’

“‘Why, of course not,’ replied the young man. ‘My name is Smat.’

“The Man in the Moon scratched his head and then laughed. ‘It is a queer name,’ he said; ‘but I see no objection to it. I suppose it just happened so.’

“‘Now, I can’t tell you anything about that,’ replied Smat. ‘I was too young when the name was given to take any part in the performance. They seized me, and named me at a time when I had to take any name that they chose to give me. They named me Smat, and that was the end of it so far as I was concerned. They never asked me how I liked it, but just slapped the name in my face, as you may say, and left it there.’

“‘Well,’ said the Man in the Moon, ‘they’ll put another letter in the name when you get back home. Instead of calling you Smat, they’ll say you are Smart, and there’s some consolation in that.’

“‘Not much as I can see,’ remarked Smat. ‘It’s all in your mouth, and what is in your mouth is pretty much all wind and water, if you try to spit it out. What I want now is to get my father and my brother out of the trouble that my mischief has plunged them in. Please help me. They ought to be at home right now. There’s the corn to grind, and the cows are waiting to be milked, and the grain is to be gathered. Times are pretty hard at our house when everybody is away.’

“‘Very well,’ said the Man in the Moon. He had hanging by his side the horn of the new Moon, and on this he blew a loud blast. Immediately there was a roaring noise in the woods, and very soon there swarmed about them a company of little men, all bearing the tiniest and the prettiest lanterns that were ever seen. It was not night, but their lanterns were blazing, and as they marched around the Man in the Moon in regular order, it seemed as though the light of their lanterns had quenched that of the sun, so that Smat saw the woods in a different light altogether. He had not moved, but he seemed to be in another country entirely. The trees had changed, and the ground itself. He was no longer sitting on a log by the side of the big road, but was now standing on his feet in a strange country, as it seemed to him.

“He had risen from his seat on the log when the little men with their lanterns began marching around, but otherwise he had not moved. And yet here he was in a country that was new to him. He rubbed his eyes in a dazed way, and when he opened them again, another change had taken place. Neither he nor the Man in the Moon had made any movement away from the big road and the log that was lying by the side of it, but now they were down in a wide valley, that stretched as far as the eye could see, between two high mountain ranges.

“‘Now, then,’ said the Man in the Moon, ‘you must be set up in business. On the side of the mountain yonder is the palace of King Stuff, and somewhere not far away you will find your father and your brother, and perhaps some one else.’

“He then called to the leaders of the little men with the lanterns, and gave each one a task to do. Their names were Drift and Sift, Glimmer and Gleam, and Shimmer and Sheen. These six leaders waved their lanterns about, called their followers about them, and at once began to build a house.”

“And they so little, too,” remarked Mrs. Meadows sympathetically.

“Why, it was no trouble in the world to them,” said Little Mr. Thimblefinger. “It didn’t seem as if they were building a house. Did you ever see a flower open? You look at it one minute, turn your head away and forget about it, and the next time you look, there it is open wide. That was the way with this house the little men built. It just seemed to grow out of the ground. As it grew, the little men climbed on it, waved their lanterns about, and the house continued to grow higher and higher, and larger and larger, until it was finished. Not a nail had been driven, not a board had been rived, not a plank had been planed, not a sill had been hewn, not a brick had been burned. And yet there was the house all new and fine, with a big chimney-stack in the middle.

“‘Now,’ said the Man in the Moon, when everything was done, ‘here is your house, and you may move in with bag and baggage.’

“‘That is quickly done,’ replied Smat. ‘What then?’

“‘Why, you must set up as a shoemaker,’ said the Man in the Moon.

“‘But I never made a shoe in my life,’ the young man declared.

“‘So much the more reason why you should make ’em before you die,’ the Man in the Moon remarked. ‘The sooner you begin to make shoes, the sooner you’ll learn how.’

“‘That’s so true,’ said Smat, ‘that I have no reply to make. ‘I’ll do as you say, if I can.’

“‘That’s better,’ cried the Man in the Moon. ‘If you do that, you’ll have small trouble. If you don’t, I wouldn’t like to tell you what will happen. Now listen! There is in this kingdom a person (I’ll not say who) that goes about with only one shoe. When you see that person, no matter when or where,—no matter whether it’s man, woman, or child,—you must let it be known that you are ready to make a shoe.’

“Then the Man in the Moon called to the leaders of his army of lantern bearers, and waved his hands. They, in turn, waved their tiny lanterns, and in a moment all were out of sight, and Smat was left alone. For some time afterwards he felt both lonely and uneasy, but this feeling passed away as soon as he went into his house. He was so astonished by what he saw in there that he forgot to feel uneasy. He saw that, although the house was newly built,—if it had been built,—it was in fact old enough inside to seem like home. Every room was finely furnished and carpeted, and in one part of the house, in a sort of shed-room, he found that a shoemaker’s shop had been fixed up. There he saw the awl and the axe, and the shoemaker’s wax, with the pegs and the leather that were found close together.

“He thought to himself that all that was very nice, but he knew, too, that he was not much of a shoemaker, and this bothered him not a little. Anyhow, he made himself comfortable and waited to see what was going to happen.

“One day a head officer of the kingdom chanced to pass that way. He saw the house and rubbed his eyes. He was so astonished that he went and told another officer, and this officer told another, and finally all the officers in the kingdom knew about it. Now, if you’ve ever noticed, those who hold government offices have less to do and more time to do it in than any other day laborers. So they went about and caucussed among themselves, and examined into the books, and found that no taxes had ever been gathered from the owner of such a house. There was great commotion among them. One of them, more meddlesome than the rest, took a big book under his arm and went to Smat’s house to make inquiries. The first question he asked was the last.

“Says he, ‘How long have you been living in this precinct?’

“Says Smat, ‘Ever since the house was built and a little while before.’

“The officer looked at the house and saw that it was a very old one, and then he tucked his big book under his arm and went off home. At last the king—the same King Stuff whose name you’ve heard me mention—heard about the new house that was old, and of the shoemaker who didn’t know how to make shoes. So he concluded to look into the matter. He summoned his high and mighty men, and when they had gathered together they went into a back room of the palace and shut the door, and had a long talk together. All this took time; and while the king and his high and mighty men were confabbing together, other things were happening, as you shall presently see.

“It seems that in that kingdom there was a beautiful girl who went wandering about the country. If she had any kinsfolk, nobody knew anything about it, and, indeed, nobody cared. She had lost one of her shoes, and she went about from place to place hunting for it. Some pitied her, and some laughed at her, which is the way of the world, as you’ll find out; but nobody tried to help her. Some said that one shoe was better than no shoe, and others said that a new shoe would do just as well as an old shoe.”

“That’s where they made a big mistake,” said Mrs. Meadows. “I’ve tried it, and I ought to know. A new shoe is bound to hurt you a little at first, I don’t care how well it fits.”

“Well, I’m only telling you what they said,” replied little Mr. Thimblefinger. “From all I can hear, new shoes hurt the ladies a great deal worse than they do the men. But that’s natural, for their toes and their heels are a good deal tenderer than those of the men folks. Anyhow, this beautiful girl had lost one of her shoes, and, rather than buy another one or a new pair, she went hunting it everywhere. One day she came by Smat’s house. He, sitting by one of the windows, and wishing that he could see his father and brother, paid no attention to the passers-by. But this beautiful girl saw him at the window and spoke to him.

“HAVE YOU SEEN ANYTHING OF A STRAY SHOE?”
]

“‘Kind sir,’ she said, ‘have you seen anything of a stray shoe? I have lost one of mine, and I’m in great trouble about it.’

“Smat looked at the girl, and she was so beautiful that he couldn’t help but blush. Seeing this, the girl began to blush. And so there they were, two young things a-blushing at one another, and wondering what was the matter.

“‘I have seen no stray shoe,’ said Smat; ‘but if you’ll come in and show me the one you have on, I think I’ll know its fellow when I see it.’

“The girl went into the house and sat on a chair, and showed Smat the shoe that she hadn’t lost. She had the smallest and the neatest foot he had ever seen.

“‘I hope you are no kin to Cinderella,’ said Smat, ‘for then you couldn’t get a shoe to fit your other foot until some kind fairy made it.’

“‘I never heard of Cinderella,’ the girl replied. ‘I only know that I have lost my shoe, and I’m afraid I’ll never get another just like it.’

“Smat scratched his head, and then he thought about the awl and the axe and the shoemaker’s wax, and the pegs and the leather that were found close together. So he said to the beautiful girl:—

“‘Just sit here a little while, and I’ll see if I can’t get you a shoe to fit your foot. But I must have the other shoe as a pattern to work by.’

“At first the girl didn’t want to trust him with the shoe, but she saw that he was in earnest, and so she pulled off the only shoe she had and placed it in Smat’s hands. He saw at once that the leather he had was a match for that in the shoe, and he set to work with a light heart,—with a light heart, but his hand was heavy. And yet, somehow or other, he found that he knew all about making shoes, although he had never learned how. The leather fitted itself to the last, and everything went smoothly. But the beautiful girl, instead of feeling happy that she would soon have a mate to her shoe, began to grow sad. She sat in a corner with her head between her hands and her hair hanging down to her feet, and sighed every time Smat bored a hole in the leather with his awl or drove in a peg. Finally, when he handed her the shoe entirely finished, she looked at it, sighed, and let it fall from her hands.

“‘Of course,’ said Smat, ‘I don’t feel bad over a little thing like that. But you don’t have to pay anything for the shoe, and you don’t have to wear it unless you want to.’

“‘Oh, it is not that,’ cried the beautiful girl. ‘The shoe will do very well, but the moment I put it on, your troubles will begin.’

“‘Well,’ replied Smat, ‘we must have troubles of some sort anyhow, and the sooner they begin, the sooner they’ll be ended. So put on your shoe.’

“Now, it happened that just as the girl put on the shoe, which fitted her foot exactly, King Stuff and his councilors came driving up to the door. King Stuff was not a large man, but he was very fierce-looking. He called out from his carriage of state and asked what sort of a person lived in that house that he couldn’t come out and salute when the king and his councilors went riding by. Smat went to the door and bowed as politely as he could, and said that he would have been glad to bow and salute, if he had known his royal highness and their excellent excellencies intended to honor his poor house even so much as to pass by it. The king and his councilors looked at one another and shook their heads.

“‘This man is none of us,’ said the oldest and wisest of the councilors. ‘We must be careful.’

“‘How long have you lived here?’ asked the king.

“‘Longer than I wanted to,’ replied Smat. ‘My house is so far from the palace that I have not been able to call and pay my respects to your majesty.’

“‘I see you are a maker of shoes,’ remarked the king, seeing the awl in Smat’s hand.