Chapter VI: Part 6

“‘No, your majesty, not a maker of shoes, but simply a shoemaker. Thus far I have succeeded in making only one shoe.’

“At this the king and his councilors began to shake and tremble. ‘What was the prophecy?’ cried the king to the oldest and wisest. ‘Repeat it!’

“The oldest and the wisest closed his eyes, allowed his head to drop to one side, and said in solemn tones:—

‘Wherever you go, and whatever you do,
Beware of the man that makes but one shoe;
Beware of the man with the awl and the axe,
With the pegs and the leather and the shoemaker’s wax.
If you’re out of your palace when you meet this man,
You’d better get back as fast as you can.’

“Smat felt very much like laughing at the solemn way in which the oldest and wisest councilor repeated this prophecy, or whatever it might be called. ‘Your majesty needn’t be worried about that prophecy,’ said he. ‘It’s the easiest thing in the world to break the force of it.’

“‘How?’ asked the king.

“‘Why, having made one shoe, I’ll go to work and make another,’ replied Smat.

“The oldest and wisest of the councilors said that was a pretty good plan,—anyhow, it was worth trying. Smat promised to make another shoe, and have it ready in two days. But this was easier said than done. In the first place, he had used nearly all his leather in making a shoe for the beautiful girl. In the second place, the awl point wouldn’t stay in the handle. In the third place, the pegs split and broke every time he tried to drive them, and the shoemaker’s wax wouldn’t stick. Everything went wrong at first and grew worse at last, so that when the king sent his officers for the shoe it was no nearer done than it had been before Smat began.

“The beautiful girl had not gone very far away, and she came every day to see how Smat prospered in making the second shoe. She was watching him when the king’s officers came for the shoe, and when she saw them she began to weep. But Smat looked as cheerful as ever, and even began to whistle when the officers knocked at the door.

“‘We are in a fix,’ said he, ‘but we’ll get out of it. Lend me the shoe I made for you. I’ll send that to the king and then get it back again.’

“The girl tried to take the shoe from her foot, but nothing would move it. ‘That is a sign,’ said Smat, ‘that it ought not to come off. I’ll just go to the king myself and tell him the facts in the case. That is the best way.’

“So he gathered the awl and the axe and the shoemaker’s wax, and the scraps of leather, and bundled them together. Then he told the officers that he would go with them and carry the shoe himself, so as to be sure that it came safely into the king’s hands. They went toward the palace, and Smat noticed, as they went along, that it grew darker and darker as they came nearer to the palace. The officers seemed to notice it too. By the time they reached the palace, it was so dark that Smat had great trouble in keeping up with the officers.

“There was great commotion in the palace. Nobody had ever seen it so dark before except just at the stroke of midnight, when the shadows grow thick and heavy and run together and over everything.

“Now, old King Stuff was a sort of magician himself (as, indeed, he had to be in those times, in order to manage a kingdom properly), and as soon as he saw the great darkness coming on at the wrong time of day, he thought at once of the prophecy in regard to the man who made but one shoe. So he hustled and bustled around the palace, calling for the officers he had sent after the shoe. But nobody had seen them return before the dark began to fall, and after that it was impossible to see them.

“In the midst of it all, the officers, followed by Smat, stumbled into the palace and went groping about from room to room hunting for old King Stuff and his ministers. At last, they heard him grumbling and growling, and felt their way toward him.

“‘The shoe! the shoe!’ cried King Stuff, when the officers had made themselves known.

“‘I have something that will answer just as well,’ said Smat.

“‘The shoe! give me the shoe!’ cried the king.

“‘Take this, your majesty,’ said Smat, handing him the bundle.

“No sooner had the king’s hands touched the bundle than there was a rumbling noise in the air, the building began to shake and totter and crumble away. In the midst of it all some one cried out in a loud voice:—

‘Wherever you go, and whatever you do,
Beware of the man that makes but one shoe!’

“In the twinkling of an eye, King Stuff and his army and his palace had disappeared from sight. At the same time the darkness had cleared away, and Smat saw his father and his brother standing near, dazed and frightened, and not far away was the beautiful girl. The father and the brother were very much astonished when they found that Smat had been the means of their rescue. They talked about it until night fell, and then the Man in the Moon, with his tiny lantern-bearers, came and escorted them to their own country.

“Now it happened that the beautiful girl was a princess, the daughter of the king. It fell to the lot of Smat to take the princess home. Not long after that the king gave a great festival, to celebrate the return of his daughter. Smat’s father and brother got close enough to the palace to see him standing in a large room, where there was a large crowd of people and music and flowers. They saw, too, that he was holding the princess by the hand.

“And so,” said little Mr. Thimblefinger, wiping the perspiration from his forehead, “the story ended.”

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XX.

THE WOOG AND THE WEEZE.

“Phew!” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit, when he was sure that little Mr. Thimblefinger had finished. “That beats anything I ever heard.”

“I’m glad you like it,” said Mr. Thimblefinger.

“Oh, hold on there!” protested Mr. Rabbit, “you are going too fast. I never said I liked it. I said it beat any story I ever heard, and so it does,—for length. I didn’t know that such a little chap could be so long-winded. It was such a long story that I’ve forgotten what the moral ought to be.”

“Why, I thought you said you didn’t believe much in stories that had morals tacked to them,” remarked Mrs. Meadows.

“No doubt I did,” replied Mr. Rabbit,—“No doubt I did. But this story was long enough to have a dozen morals cropping out in different places, like dog fennel in a cow pasture.”

“Well,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, “there was a moral or two in the story, but I didn’t call attention to them in the telling, and I’ll not dwell on them now.”

“I thought it was a tolerably fair story,” said Buster John, yet with a tone of doubt.

“Oh, I thought it was splendid all the way through,” said Sweetest Susan.

“There are some stories that are hard to tell,” suggested Mrs. Meadows. “They go in such a rambledy-wambledy way that it’s not easy to keep the track of them. I remember I once heard Chickamy Crany Crow trying to repeat a story that she heard the Looking-glass Children tell. I never found head nor tail to it, but I sat and listened almost without shutting my eyes.”

“What was the story?” asked Sweetest Susan.

In reply, Mrs. Meadows said she would call Chickamy Crany Crow, and ask her to tell it. As usual, Chickamy Crany Crow was off at play with Tickle-My-Toes. They both came when Mrs. Meadows called them, and Chickamy Crany Crow, after some persuasion, began to tell the story.

“One day,” she said, brushing her hair behind her ears with her fingers, “I wanted to see the Looking-glass Children. Tickle-My-Toes was off playing by himself, and I was lonesome; so I went to the Looking-glass, whirled it around in its frame, and waited for the children to come out. But they didn’t come. I called them, but they made no answer. I went close to the Glass, and looked in. At first, I couldn’t see anything; but after a while I saw, away off in the Glass, one of the children,—the one they all say looks like me. I called her; but she was so far off in the Glass that she couldn’t hear me, and, as she had her face turned the other way, she couldn’t see me.

“After so long a time, she came up to the frame of the Glass, and then stepped out and sat down on the ground. I saw she had been crying.

“Says I, ‘Honey, what in the world is the matter?’ I always call her Honey when we are by ourselves.

“Says she, ‘There’s enough the matter. I’m e’en about scared to death, and I expect that all the other children in this Looking-glass are either captured, or killed, or scared to death.’

“Says I, ‘Why didn’t you holler for help?’

“Says she, ‘What good would that have done? You all could help us very well on dry land, out here, but how could you have helped us in the Looking-glass, when you can’t even get in at the door? I’ve seen you try to follow us, but you’ve always failed. You stop at the Glass, and you can’t get any farther.’

“Says I, ‘You are right about that; but if we outside folks can’t get in the Glass to play with you and keep you company, how can anybody or anything get in there to scare you and hurt you?’

“Says she, ‘The thing that scared us has been in there all the time. It was born in there, I reckon, but I’ve never seen it before; and I tell you right now I never want to see it again.’

“Says I, ‘What sort of a thing is it?’

“Says she in a whisper, ‘_It’s the Woog!_‘

“‘The what?’ says I.

“‘_The Woog!_‘ says she.

“Says I, ‘It’s new to me. I never heard of it before.’

“Says she, ‘To hear of it is as close as you want to get to it.’

“Why, I heard of the Woog in my younger days,” remarked Mr. Thimblefinger. “I thought the thing had gone out of fashion.”

“Don’t you believe a word of it,” said Chickamy Crany Crow. “It’s just as much in fashion now as ever it was, especially at certain seasons of the year. The little girl in the Looking-glass—I say little girl, though she’s about my size and shape—told me all about it; and as she lives in the same country with the Woog, she ought to know.”

“What did she say about it?” asked Buster John, who had a vague idea that he might some day be able to organize an expedition to go in search of the Woog.

A HORRIBLE MONSTER GLARED AT THEM
]

“Well,” replied Chickamy Crany Crow, “she said this,—she said that she and the other children were sitting under the shade of a bazzle-bush in the Looking-glass, telling fairy stories. It had come her turn to tell a story, and she was trying to remember the one about the little girl who had a silk dress made out of a muscadine skin, when all of a sudden there was a roaring noise in the bushes near by. While they were shaking with fright, a most horrible monster came rushing out, and glared at them, growling all the while. It wore great green goggles. Its hair stood out from its head on all sides, except in the bald place on top, and its ears stuck out as big as the wings of a buzzard.

“‘Do you know who I am?’ it growled. ‘No, you don’t; but I’ll show you. I am the Woog. Do you hear that? The Woog! Don’t forget that. What did I hear you talking about just now? You were talking about fairies. Don’t say you weren’t, for I heard you.’

“‘Well,’ says one of the Looking-glass Children, ‘what harm is there in that?’

“‘Harm!’ screamed the Woog. ‘Do you want to defy me? I have caught and killed and crushed and smoked out all the fairies that ever lived on the earth, except a few that have hid themselves in this Looking-glass country. What harm, indeed!—a pretty question to ask me, when I’ve spent years and years trying to run down and smother out the whole fairy tribe.’

“The Looking-glass Children,” Chickamy Crany Crow continued, “told the Woog that they didn’t know there was any harm in the fairies themselves, or in talking about them. The Woog paid no attention to their apologies. He just stood and glared at them through his green goggles, gnashing his teeth and clenching his hands.

“Says the monster after awhile, ‘How dare any of you wish that you could see a fairy, or that you had a fairy godmother? What shall I do with you? I crushed a whole population of fairies between the lids of this book’ (he held up a big book, opened it, and clapped it together again so hard that it sounded like some one had fired off a gun), ‘and I’ve a great mind to smash every one of you good-for-nothing children the same way.’

“You may be sure that by this time the poor little Looking-glass Children were very much frightened, especially when they saw that the Woog was fixing to make an attack on them. He dropped his big book, and when the children saw him do this they broke and run: some went one way and some another. The last they saw of him, he was rushing through the bushes like a blind horse, threshing his arms about, and doing more damage to himself than to anybody else. But the children had a terrible scare, and if he hasn’t made way with some of them it’s not because he is too good to do it.”

“The poor dears!” exclaimed Mrs. Meadows sympathetically.

“Dat ar creetur can’t come out’n dat Lookin’-glass like de yuthers, kin he?” inquired Drusilla, moving about uneasily: “kaze ef he kin, I’m gwine ’way fum here. I dun seed so many quare doin’s an’ gwine’s on dat I’ll jump an’ holler ef anybody pints der finger at me.”

“Well, Tar-Baby,” replied Mr. Rabbit with some dignity, “he hasn’t never come out yet. That’s all that can be said in that line. He may come out, but if he does you’ll be in no danger at all. The Woog would never mistake you for a fairy, no matter whether he had his green goggles on or whether he had them off.”

“No matter ’bout dat,” remarked Drusilla. “I mayn’t look like no fairy, but I don’t want no Woog fer ter be cuttin’ up no capers ’roun’ me. I tell you dat, an’ I don’t charge nothin’ fer tellin’ it. Black folks don’t stan’ much chance wid dem what knows ’em, let ’lone dem ar Woog an’ things what don’t know ’em. Ef you all hear ’im comin’, des give de word, and I boun’ you’ll say ter yo’se’f dat Drusilla got wings. Now you min’ dat.”

“What does the Woog want to kill the fairies for?” asked Sweetest Susan. “He must be very mean and cruel.”

“He’s all of that, and more,” replied Mrs. Meadows. “The fairies please the children, and give them something beautiful to think about in the day and to dream about at night, and the Woog doesn’t like that. He hates the fairies because it pleases the children to hear about them, and he hates the children because they like to hear about the fairies.”

“Well, I never want to see him until I am big enough to tote a gun,” said Buster John. “After that, I don’t care how soon I meet him.”

“Now,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, turning to Mrs. Meadows with a solemn air, “didn’t you say that all this about the Woog was a tale, or something of that sort.”

“I believe I did,” replied Mrs. Meadows. “What about it?”

“Just this,” said Mr. Rabbit,—“a tale’s a tale, and it never stops until all is told.”

“If that’s the case, I’ve heard some here that overshot the mark,” remarked Mrs. Meadows.

“No doubt, no doubt,” responded Mr. Rabbit. “But what became of the Woog?”

“I know! I know!” cried Tickle-My-Toes, who had been listening to all that was said about the Woog.

“Very well; let’s hear about it,” suggested Mr. Rabbit.

“’Taint much,” said Tickle-My-Toes modestly. “The chap in the Looking-glass that looks like me, he was the one that fell into the hands or the claws of the Woog. He could have got away with the rest, but a piece of straw was caught between his toes, and it tickled him so that he laughed until he couldn’t run. He just fell on the ground and rolled over and over, laughing all the time. In this way the Woog caught up with him and grabbed him, and carried him away off in the woods in the Looking-glass country. They were away off in that part of the country where there was no green grass on the ground. There were no green leaves on the trees, no flowers blooming, and no birds singing.

“The Woog carried the little chap that looks like me to that dark place, and nearly scared him to death.

“‘You pretend to be something or somebody, do you?—you, a shadow in a glass,’ growled the Woog.

“‘I’m what I am,’ said the little chap.

“‘You are not,’ cried the Woog. ‘You are nothing. Why do you pretend to be somebody or something?’

“The little chap didn’t say anything in reply, because there was nothing to say. There’s no use in disputing when you can’t help yourself. So the Woog took him and tied him to a dead tree, leaving his big book lying near. There is no telling what would have happened to the little chap; but just as soon as the Woog got out of sight, a strong, tall man, with gray hair combed straight back over his head, suddenly made his appearance, and untied the cords, and set the little chap free.

“‘Don’t be frightened,’ said the tall man; ‘I am the Weeze. I have been hunting the Woog for many a long day, and now I think I’ll put an end to him.’

“Presently the Woog came back growling and grumbling. When he looked up and saw the Weeze, it was too late for him to escape. But he turned and tried to run. Just then the Weeze seized the big book and threw it at the Woog. As it hit him, there was a big explosion, and the Woog and his big book both disappeared.

“The little chap that looks like me,” said Tickle-My-Toes, “was telling me about it to-day; and he said that it wasn’t long after the explosion before the flowers began to bloom in that place, and the birds to sing, and the leaves began to grow on the trees. And after awhile the fairies began to peep out from their hiding-places; and when the little chap came away he could see them playing Ring-Around-Rosy on the green grass.

“It was mighty funny, wasn’t it?” asked Tickle-My-Toes, in conclusion.

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XXI.

UNCLE RAIN AND BROTHER DROUTH.

“Now I’m not so mighty certain that that is a real tale after all,” said Mr. Rabbit, “although it took two to tell it. There’s something the matter with it somewhere. The running-gear is out of order. I’m not complaining, because what might suit me might not suit other people. It’s all a matter of taste, as Mrs. Meadows’s grandmother said when she wiped her mouth with her apron and kissed the cow.”

“Well,” remarked Mr. Thimblefinger, “there’s no telling what happens in a Looking-glass when nobody is watching. I’ve often wanted to know. The little that I’ve heard about the Woog and the Weeze will do me until I can hear more.”

“I remember a story that I thought was a very good one when I first heard it,” said Mrs. Meadows. “But sometimes a great deal more depends on the time, place, and company than on the stories that are told. I’m such a poor hand at telling tales that I’m almost afraid to tell any that I know. I’ve heard a great many in my day and time, but the trouble is to pick out them that don’t depend on a wink of the eye and a wave of the hand.”

“Give us a taste of it, anyhow,” suggested Mr. Rabbit. “I’ll do the winking, the Tar-Baby can do the blinking, and Mr. Thimblefinger can wave his hands.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Meadows, “once upon a time there lived in a country not very far from here a man who had a wife and two children,—a boy and a girl. This was not a large family, but the man was very poor, and he found it a hard matter to get along. He was a farmer, and farming, no matter what they say, depends almost entirely on the weather. Now, this farmer never could get the weather he wanted. One year the Rain would come and drown out his crops, and the next year the Drouth would come and burn them up.

“Matters went from bad to worse, and the farmer and his wife talked of nothing else but the Rain and the Drouth. One year they said they would have made a living but for the Drouth, and the next they said they would have been very well off but for the Rain. So it went on from year to year until the two children,—the boy and the girl,—grew up large enough to understand what their father and mother were talking about. One year they’d hear they could have no Sunday clothes and shoes because of the Drouth. The next year they’d hear they could have no shoes and Sunday clothes because of the Rain.

“All this set them to thinking. The boy was about ten years old and the girl was about nine. One day at their play they began to talk as they had heard their father and mother talk. It was early in the spring, and their father was even then ploughing and preparing his fields for planting another crop.

“‘We will have warm shoes and good clothes next winter if the Rain doesn’t come and stay too long,’ said the boy.

“‘Yes,’ replied the girl, ‘and we’ll have good clothes and warm shoes if the Drouth doesn’t come and stay too long.’

“‘I wonder why they’ve got such a spite against us,’ remarked the boy.

“‘I’m sure I don’t know,’ replied the girl. ‘If we go and see them, and tell them who we are, and beg them not to make us so cold and hungry when the ice grows in the ponds and on the trees, maybe they’ll take pity on us.’

“This plan pleased the boy, and the two children continued to talk it over, until finally they agreed to go in search of the Rain and the Drouth. ‘Do you,’ said the boy, ‘go in search of Brother Drouth, and I will go in search of Uncle Rain. When we have found them, we must ask them to visit our father’s house and farm, and see the trouble and ruin they have caused.’

“To this the girl agreed; and early the next morning, after eating a piece of corn bread, which was all they had for breakfast, they started on their journey, the boy going to the east and the girl to the south. The boy traveled a long way, and for many days. Sometimes he thought he would never come to the end of his journey; but finally he came to Cousin Mist’s house, and there he inquired his way.

“‘What do you want with Uncle Rain?’ asked Cousin Mist. ‘He is holding court now, and he is very busy. Besides, you are not dressed properly. When people go to court, they have to wear a certain kind of dress. In your case, you ought to have a big umbrella and an oilcloth overcoat.’

“‘Well,’ replied the boy, ‘I haven’t got ’em, and that’s the end of that part of it. If you’ll show me the way to Uncle Rain’s house, I’ll go on and be much obliged to boot.’

“Cousin Mist looked at the boy and laughed. ‘You are a bold lad,’ he said, ‘and since you are so bold, I’ll lend you an umbrella and an oilcloth overcoat, and go a part of the way with you.’

“So the boy put on the overcoat and hoisted the umbrella, and trudged along the muddy road toward the house of Uncle Rain. When they came in sight of it, Cousin Mist pointed it out, told the boy good-by, and then went drizzling back home. The boy went forward boldly, and knocked at the door of Uncle Rain’s house.

“‘Who is there?’ inquired Uncle Rain in a hoarse and wheezy voice. He seemed to have the asthma, the choking quinsy, and the croup, all at the same time.

“‘It’s only me,’ said the boy. ‘Please, Uncle Rain, open the door.’

“With that, Uncle Rain opened the door and invited the little fellow in. He did more than that: he went to the closet and got out a dry spot, and told the boy to make himself as comfortable as he could.”

“Got out a—what?” asked Buster John, trying hard to keep from laughing.

“A dry spot,” replied Mrs. Meadows solemnly. “Uncle Rain went to the closet and got out a dry spot. Of course,” she continued, “Uncle Rain had to keep a supply of dry spots on hand, so as to make his visitors comfortable. It’s a great thing to be polite. Well, the boy sat on the dry spot, and, after some remarks about the weather, Uncle Rain asked him why he had come so far over the rough roads. Then the boy told Uncle Rain the whole story about how poor his father was, and how he had been made poorer year after year, first by Brother Drouth and then by Uncle Rain. And then he told how he and his little sister had to go without shoes and wear thin clothes in cold weather, all because the crops were ruined year after year, either by Brother Drouth or Uncle Rain.

THE BOY TOLD UNCLE RAIN THE WHOLE STORY
]

“He told his story so simply and with so much feeling that Uncle Rain was compelled to wipe his eyes on a corner of the fog that hung on the towel rack behind the door. He asked the boy a great many questions about his father and his mother.

“‘I reckon,’ said Uncle Rain finally, ‘that I have done all of you a great deal of damage without knowing it, but I think I can pay it back. Bring the dry spot with you, and come with me.’ He went into the barnyard, and the boy followed. They went into the barn, and there the boy saw, tied by a silver cord, a little black sheep. It was very small, but seemed to be full grown, because it had long horns that curled round and round on the sides of its head. And, although the horns were long and hard, the little sheep was very friendly. It rubbed its head softly against the boy’s hand, and seemed to be fond of him at first sight.

“Uncle Rain untied the silver cord, and placed the loose end in the boy’s hand. ‘Here is a sheep,’ he said, ‘that is worth more than all the flocks in the world. When you want gold, all you have to do is to press the golden spring under the left horn. The horn will then come off, and you will find it full of gold. When you want silver, press the silver spring under the right horn. The horn will come off, and you will find it full of silver. When the horns have been emptied, place them back where they belong. This may be done once, twice, or fifty times a day.’

“The boy didn’t know how to thank Uncle Rain enough for this wonderful gift. He was so anxious to get home that he would have started off at once.

“‘Wait a minute,’ said Uncle Rain. ‘You may tell your father about this, but he must tell no one else. The moment the secret of the sheep is told outside your family, it will no longer be valuable to you.’

“The boy thanked Uncle Rain again, and started home, leading his wonderful sheep, which trotted along after him, as if it were glad to go along. The boy went home much faster than he had gone away, and it was not long before he reached there.”

“But what became of the little girl?” asked Sweetest Susan, as Mrs. Meadows paused a moment.

“I am coming to her now,” said Mrs. Meadows. “The girl, according to the bargain that had been made between her and her brother, was to visit Brother Drouth, and lay her complaints before him. So she started on her way. As she went along, the roads began to get drier and drier, and the grass on the ground and the leaves on the trees began to look as if they had been sprinkled with yellow powder. By these signs, the girl knew that she was not far from the house of Cousin Dust, and presently she saw it in the distance. She went to the door, which was open, and inquired the way to Brother Drouth’s. Cousin Dust was much surprised to see a little girl at his door; but, after a long fit of coughing, he recovered himself, and told her that she was now in Brother Drouth’s country.

“‘If you’ll show me the way,’ said the girl, ‘I’ll be more than obliged to you.’

“‘I’ll go a part of the way with you,’ said Cousin Dust, ‘and lend you a fan besides.’

“So they went along until they came in sight of Brother Drouth’s house, and then Cousin Dust went eddying back home in the shape of a small whirlwind. The girl went to Brother Drouth’s door and knocked. Brother Drouth came at once and opened the door, and invited her in.

“‘I’ll not deny that I’m surprised,’ said he, ‘for I never expected to find a little girl knocking at my door at this time of day. But you are welcome. I’m glad to see you. You must have come a long journey, for you look hot.’

“With that he went to the cupboard and got her a cool place to sit on, and this she found very comfortable. But still Brother Drouth wasn’t satisfied. As his visitor was a little girl, he wanted to be extra polite, and so he went to his private closet and brought her a fresh breeze with a handle to it; and, as the cool place had a cushioned back and the fresh breeze a handle that the girl could manage, she felt better in Brother Drouth’s house than she had at any time during her long journey. She sat there on the cool place and fanned with the fresh breeze, and Brother Drouth sat in his big armchair and smiled at her. The little girl noticed this after awhile, and so she said:—

“‘Oh, you can laugh, but it’s no laughing matter. If you could see the trouble you’ve caused at our house, you’d laugh on the other side of your mouth.’

“When he heard this, Brother Drouth at once became very serious, and apologized. He said he wasn’t laughing, but just smiling because he thought she was enjoying herself.

“‘I may be enjoying myself now,’ said the little girl, ‘and I’m much obliged to you; but if I was at home, I shouldn’t be enjoying myself.’

“Then she went on to tell Brother Drouth how her father’s crops had been ruined year after year, either by Uncle Rain or by Brother Drouth, and how the family got poorer and poorer all the time on that account, so that the little children couldn’t have warm shoes and thick clothes in cold weather, but had to go barefooted and wear rags. Brother Drouth listened with all his ears; and when the little girl had told her story, he shook his head, and said that he was to blame as well as Uncle Rain. He explained that, for many years, there had been a trial of strength going on between him and Uncle Rain, and they had become so much interested in overcoming each other that they had paid no attention to poor people’s crops. He said he was very sorry that he had taken part in any such affair. Then he told the little girl that he thought he could pay her back for a part of the damage he had done, and that he would be more than glad to do so.

“Says he, ‘Bring your cool place and your fresh breeze with you, and come with me.’

“She followed Brother Drouth out into the barnyard, and into the barn; and there, tied by a golden cord, she saw a snow-white goat.

“‘This goat,’ said Brother Drouth, ‘is worth more than all the goats in the world, tame or wild.’ With that he untied the golden cord, and placed the loose end in the girl’s hand. The goat was small, but seemed to be old; for its horns, which were of the color of ivory, curved upward and over its back. They were so long that, by turning its head a bit, the snow-white goat could scratch itself on its ham. And though it seemed to be old, it was very gentle; for it rubbed its nose and face against the little girl’s frock, and appeared to be very glad to see her.

“‘Now then,’ said Brother Drouth, ‘this goat is yours. Take it, and take care of it. On the under side of each horn, you will find a small spring. Touch it, and the horn will come off; and each horn, no matter how many times you touch the spring, you will always find full of gold and silver. But this is not all. At each change of the moon, you will find the right horn full of diamonds, and the left horn full of pearls. Now listen to me. You may tell your father about this treasure; but as soon as the secret is told out of the family, your goat will be worth no more to you than any other goat.’

“The little girl thanked Brother Drouth until he would allow her to thank him no more. She would have left the cool place and the fresh breeze, but Brother Drouth said she was welcome to both of them. ‘When the weather is cold,’ said he, ‘you can put them away; but when it is warm, you will find that the cool place and the fresh breeze will come in right handy.’

“Thanking Brother Drouth again and again, the girl started on her journey home, leading her wonderful goat, and carrying with her the cool place and the fresh breeze. In this way, she made the long journey with ease and comfort, and came to her father’s house without any trouble. She reached the gate, too, just as her brother did. They were very glad to see each other, and the sheep and the goat appeared to be old friends; for they rubbed their noses together in friendly fashion.

“‘I’ll make our father and mother rich,’ said the boy proudly.

“‘And I’ll make them richer,’ said the girl still more proudly.

“So they took their wonderful goat and sheep into the stable, gave them some hay to eat, and then went into the house.”

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XXII.

THE SNOW-WHITE GOAT AND THE COAL-BLACK SHEEP.

“Please don’t say that is the end of the story,” said Sweetest Susan, as Mrs. Meadows made a longer pause than usual.

“Well, it ought to be the end,” replied Mrs. Meadows. “The two children had come home with treasure and riches enough to suit anybody. That ought to be the end of the story. You ought to be able to say that they all lived happily together forever after. That’s the way they put it down in the books; but this is not a book story, and so we’ll have to stick to the facts.

“Now, then, when the boy and the girl returned home, one with the wonderful sheep and the other with the wonderful goat, they found their father and mother in a great state of mind. The whole country round about had been searched for the children. The mother was sure they had been stolen and carried off. The father, who had his own miseries always in mind, was sure that they had grown tired of the poverty that surrounded them, and had run away to see if they couldn’t do better among strangers.

“So, when the children had returned home, as happy as larks, their mother fell to weeping, and cried out: ‘I am so glad you have escaped, my pretty dears.’ The father grinned and said: ‘Why do you come back? Is it because the fare elsewhere is no better than it is here?’

“Now, of course, the children didn’t know what to make of all this. They stood with their fingers in their mouths, and wondered what the trouble was. Then they were compelled to answer a shower of questions; and by the time the inquiries had come to an end, they were not feeling very comfortable at all. Finally the boy said:—

“‘My sister and myself were tired of wearing ragged clothes and having little to eat, and so we concluded to seek our fortunes. We knew that Uncle Rain and Brother Drouth had caused all the trouble, and so we thought the best way to do would be to hunt them up and tell them the trouble they were causing to one poor family. I went to see Uncle Rain, and my sister went to see Brother Drouth. We found them at home, and both were in good humor. Uncle Rain gave me a coal-black sheep, and Brother Drouth gave my sister a snow-white goat, and told us that with these we could make our fortunes.’

“‘A likely story—a very likely story indeed!’ exclaimed the father. ‘If you have brought the sheep and the goat home, you would do well to take them back where you got them, else we shall all be put in jail for stealing and for harboring stolen property.’

“‘Now don’t talk that way to your own children,’ said the tender-hearted mother. ‘For my part, I believe every word they say;’ then she kissed them, and hugged them, and cried over them a little, while the father sat by, looking sour and glum. The children, when they placed the goat and the sheep in the stable, had each taken a handful of gold and silver coins from the horns of the wonderful animals. So now the boy went forward and placed upon the table near his father a handful of gold and silver. The girl did the same.

“The father heard the rattle and jingle of coin, and, looking around, saw there at his elbow more money than he had ever seen before in all his life. He was both astonished and alarmed.

“‘Worse and worse!’ he cried, throwing up his hands. ‘Worse and worse! We are ruined! Tell me where you got that treasure, that I may take it back to its owner. Make haste! If there’s any delay about it, we shall all be thrown into prison.’

“‘Come with us,’ said the boy, ‘and we will show you where we found the treasure.’

“So they went out of the house and into the stable, and there the children showed their father where the treasure came from.

“‘Wonderful! most wonderful!’ exclaimed the father. ‘Wonderful! most wonderful!’ cried the mother. Then they hugged and kissed their children again and again, and all were very happy. It made no difference now whether crops were good or bad.”

“The man was mighty honest,” remarked Mr. Rabbit.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Meadows. “But a man can be honest and thick-headed at the same time, and that was the way with this man. He was too honest to keep other people’s money, and too thick-headed to know how to keep his own.”

“Excuse me!” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit, with a bow that made his ears flop; “excuse me! I thought the story had come to an end. You said they were all very happy; so I says to myself, ‘Now is the time to make a slight remark.’”

“No; the end of the story is yet to come,” replied Mrs. Meadows. “But if these children are getting tired, I’m ready to quit. Goodness knows, I don’t want to worry them, and I don’t want to make them think that I want to do all the talking.”

“Please go on,” said Sweetest Susan.

“Well, when the father found where the money and treasure came from, he was willing to believe that his children had visited Uncle Rain and Brother Drouth; for he knew perfectly well that the wonderful black sheep and the wonderful snow-white goat were not bred on any farm in that country. So his mind was easy; and, as I said, the father, the mother, and the two children were all happy together.

“The mother and the children were so happy that they stayed at home and enjoyed one another’s company, and the father was so happy that it made him restless in the mind. He got in the habit of going to the tavern every day, and sometimes more than once a day; and he got to drinking more ale and wine than was good for him. And on these occasions his legs would wobble under him, as if one leg wanted to go home, and the other wanted to go back to the tavern.

“Sometimes, at the tavern, he would get to gaming; and when he lost his money, as he always did, he’d ask his companions to wait until he could go home and get more. He would soon come back with his pockets full. This happened so often that people began to talk about it, and to wonder how a man who had been so very poor could suddenly become so wealthy that he had money to throw away at the gaming-table. His neighbors were very curious about it, but they asked him no questions, and he went on drinking and gambling for many long days.

“But finally there came to that village a company of five men, who let it be understood that they were peddlers. They came into the village on foot, carrying packs on their backs, and put up at the tavern. They were not peddlers, but robbers, who had been attracted to the village by rumors about the poor man who was rich enough to throw away money night after night at the gaming-table.

“Shortly after nightfall, three of the five men arranged themselves around a table; and when the man came in, they invited him to join them. Two of the five sat by the fire, and appeared to be watching the game. The man didn’t wait for two invitations, but seated himself at the table, and called for wine. Then the gaming began. Aided by their two companions, the three robbers at the table had no difficulty in swindling the man. Though he came with all his pockets filled with gold and silver, they were soon emptied. The robbers plied him with wine, and he played wildly.

“When his money was all gone, he excused himself and said he would go and get more, and then continue the game. He went out; and, at a sign from the leader, the two robbers who had been sitting by the fire, rose and followed him. They had no trouble in doing this, for the man’s legs were already getting wobbly. One leg wanted to go home and go to bed, and the other wanted to go back and be stretched out under the table.

“But, though the man’s legs were wobbly, his head was pretty clear. He knew his way home, and he knew his way into the stable, where the coal-black sheep and the snow-white goat were housed. The two robbers followed him as closely as they dared, but it was too dark for them to see what he was doing. They knew that he went into the stable, and presently they heard the jingle and clinking of gold and silver, and then he came out with his pockets full.

“They waited until he had gone on toward the tavern and was out of sight. Then they slipped into the yard, and crept into the stable. It was very dark in the stable, but not too dark to see dimly. The two men felt their way along, and soon saw that there were but two stalls in the stable. Each went into a stall, and began to feel around. They expected to find bags of gold and silver stacked around, but they were mistaken. Finally they stooped to feel along the ground; and, as they did so, there was a loud thump in each stall and a yell of pain from both robbers. When they stooped to feel along the ground, the coal-black sheep and the snow-white goat rushed at them, and gave each one a thump that nearly jarred the senses out of him. The robbers rolled over with a howl, and the goat and the sheep thumped them again, and kept on thumping them.

AT LAST THE ROBBERS MANAGED TO ESCAPE
]

“But at last the robbers managed to escape, though they made a pretty looking sight. Their hats were lost, their clothes were torn and muddy, their heads were bleeding, their eyes were knocked black and blue, and they felt as if there was not a whole bone in their body. They were too frightened to talk, but finally their voices came to them.

“‘What was it hit you?’ says one.

“‘I’m blessed if I know,’ says the other. ‘What hit you?’

“‘Something hard,’ says one.

“‘What did it look like?’

“‘Satan dressed in white, and he had his maul and wedge with him. What did yours look like?’

“‘Satan dressed in black, and he had all his horns and hoofs with him; and I think he must have struck me one or two licks with his forked tail.’

“They went off to the nearest branch, and bathed themselves the best they could, but even then they made a sorry spectacle. Their heads and faces were still swollen, their eyes were nearly closed, and their clothes were split and ripped from heel to collar. They didn’t know where to go. They knew that it wouldn’t do to go back to the tavern and present themselves among the guests, for that would cast suspicion on their companions. Finally, they went outside the village, and hid themselves under a haystack, where they soon fell asleep, and would have slept soundly if their dreams had not been disturbed by visions of a black Satan and a white Satan, both armed with long, hard horns and sharp hoofs.

“All this time, the father of the children, wobbly as he was, sat at the gaming-table with the three robbers. The robbers were waiting for the return of their companions, and at last they became so uneasy that they played loosely, and the man began to win his gold and silver back again. At last the robbers concluded to go in search of their companions; and the man went home, carrying with him more gold and silver than he had ever before brought away from the tavern. The robbers failed to find their companions until the next day, and the story they told was so alarming that the band concluded to leave that part of the country, at least for awhile.

“But reports and rumors of the great wealth of the poor farmer continued to travel about, and finally they came to the ears of a company of merchants, who were more cunning in their line of business than the robbers were in theirs. So these merchants journeyed to the village, and put up at the tavern. There they soon made the acquaintance of the fortunate farmer who owned the wonderful coal-black sheep and the wonderful snow-white goat.

“They talked business with him from the word go. They wanted him to put his money in all sorts of schemes that were warranted to double it in a few months. But the man said he didn’t want his money doubled. He already had as much as he wanted. He told them that if he were to sit on the street and throw away a million dollars a minute for ten years he’d be just as rich at the end of that time as he was before he threw away the first million.

“Of course, the merchants didn’t understand this. Some said the man was crazy, but the shrewder ones concluded that there must be some secret behind it all. So they set to work to find it out. They flattered him in every way. They made him rich presents for himself, his wife, and children. For the first time he began to wear fine clothes and put on airs. The shrewd merchants asked his advice about their own business, and went about telling everybody what a wise man he was. They pretended to tell him all their own business secrets.

“This, of course, pleased the man very much; and, at last, one day, when he had more wine in his head than wit, he told his merchant friends that he made all his gold and silver by shearing a black sheep and milking a white goat.

“‘Where do you keep these wonderful creatures?’ one of the merchants asked.

“‘In my stable,’ replied the man,—’in my stable night and day.’

“The greedy merchants were not long in finding out that the man kept a coal-black sheep and a snow-white-goat in his stable sure enough; and, after a good deal of persuading and flattering, they got him to consent to bring his coal-black sheep and his snow-white goat to the tavern, so that they might see for themselves how rare and valuable the animals were.

“Well, one night after his wife and children had gone to bed, the man carried the sheep and the goat to the tavern, and showed them to the merchants. They offered him immense sums of money for the animals, but he refused them all. Then they invited him to remain to a banquet which they had prepared. He wanted to carry his sheep and his goat back home, and then return to the banquet; but the merchants said the table was already spread, and he could tie his wonderful animals in the rear hall, where nobody would bother them.

“Meantime, the merchants had sent out into the country and bought a black sheep and a white goat; and while some of them were pouring wine down the man’s goozle, others were untying the wonderful black sheep and white goat, and putting in their place the animals that had been bought. When the time came for the man to go home, he was so wobbly in the legs and so befuddled in the head that he couldn’t tell the difference between a sheep and a goat. In fact, he had forgotten all about them, until one of the merchants asked him if he wasn’t going to take his rare and valuable animals back home.

“The strange sheep and goat were not used to being led about at night by a man with wobbly legs and a befuddled head, and they cut up such queer capers that it was much as the man could do to keep on his feet at all. But, after so long a time, he managed to get them home, and tied them in the stable.

“So far, so good: but the next morning, when the boy and the girl got up betimes and went out to feed their pets, as they were in the habit of doing, they saw at once that something had happened. Their precious pets had been made way with, and these rough, dirty, and mean-looking animals put in their place. One glance was enough to satisfy the children of this, and they set up such a wail that the whole neighborhood was aroused. Even their father stuck his head out of the window and asked what was the matter. His head was still befuddled by the night’s banquet, but his alarm sobered him instantly when he heard what his children said. He wouldn’t believe it at first; but when he went out into the stable and saw for himself, he was nearly beside himself with grief. He declared that it was all his fault, and told what he had done the night before.