Chapter II: Part 2

“Well, maybe one,” said Neddie, “though I never heard of anybody that ran away taking a doll. But maybe one won’t do any harm.”

“Then I’m going to take Maryann Puddingstick Clothespin, my very nicest doll,” said Beckie.

“All right,” agreed her brother. “Now we must get ready. And, mind you, it’s a secret. No one must know anything about it.”

“Can’t I tell—tell mamma?” asked Beckie, tears coming in her eyes.

“No, not even mamma.”

“Then I’m not going!”

“Oh, that’s just like you girls!” cried Neddie. “We fellows get everything going nicely and you won’t play fair. You can leave a note for mamma, after we’re gone, telling that you’ve run away, if you like.”

“Then I’ll do it,” said Beckie.

“And you must pack up what clothes you’ll need,” went on Neddie. “Put ’em in a paper bag, and I’ll do the same. Then when it gets dark we’ll go out and run away to find the man with the brass horn.”

“And when will we get some sweet buns and popcorn?” asked Beckie, anxious-like.

“Oh, as soon as we find him,” said Neddie. “Now I’m going to get ready. Mind! Not a word to anybody.”

So the two bear children prepared to run away. Of course I’m not saying they did right—I guess you wouldn’t say so yourself, but I have to tell this story exactly as it happened, or it wouldn’t be fair. Of course I might make a mistake, but I’ll do as nearly right as I know how.

Neddie and Beckie packed up a few of their clothes in paper bags they found in the kitchen. Beckie also took some things for her doll, Maryann Puddingstick Clothespin. The doll herself the little bear girl wrapped in an old salt bag that had been washed clean.

“I wonder what those two children are up to anyhow?” asked Aunt Piffy, the fat bear lady as she helped Mrs. Stubtail do the washing.

“Oh, maybe they’re planning some trick to play on Uncle Wigwag, to pay him back for all the joking he has done,” said Mrs. Stubtail. “I guess they’re all right.”

But if she had only known what Neddie and Beckie were going to do. Oh dear! Isn’t it too bad mothers don’t always know? They could save so much trouble!

But there! I must tell about the story.

Beckie and Neddie had their supper, and they had hidden their bags of things out under the front porch. They were not very hungry. They were too excited; and then, too, they were thinking of what the bear man might give them. Perhaps they were also a little sad about leaving their nice home. But Neddie had made up his mind to run away.

Finally the bear children went off to bed. But they did not sleep, and when the house was all dark and still they quietly got up and went out the back door. Silently they went to where they had left their bundles and got them.

“Come on!” whispered Neddie. “At last we’re running away!”

“And—and—maybe we’ll be glad to—run back again!” whispered Beckie, and her voice choked.

“Oh, don’t be a cry-baby!” said Neddie. “Come on!”

“Oh, but it’s dark!” objected Beckie.

“The moon will soon be up,” said her brother.

On and on through the woods they went, and soon the moon did come up. Then it was lighter. On and on went the two bear children; when, all of a sudden, they heard a noise in the bushes.

“What’s that?” asked Beckie, sliding close up to her brother.

“I—I don’t know,” he whispered. And just then, through the woods, they heard a sound like this:

“Ta-ra! Ta-ra-ta! Ta-ra-ta! Ta-ra-ta! Toot! Toot!”

“Come on!” cried Neddie, joyfully. “There is the trained bear man. Now we are all right,” and holding tightly to Beckie’s paw he raced on through the woods toward the bugle sound.

And what happened next, and what Neddie and Beckie did when they found the trained bear and his master, I’ll tell you on the next page, when the story will be about Neddie and Beckie up a pole—that is I will if the letter-carrier doesn’t put a clothespin on our little doggie’s tail and mail him away off where he can’t go to the moving picture show in our cellar.

STORY VII
NEDDIE AND BECKIE CLIMB A POLE

When Neddie and Beckie Stubtail, the two little bear children, had run away from home, as I told you in the story before this one, and had come to the woods where they heard the horn blowing, they did not know just what to do.

“That,” said Beckie, as she held her doll, Mary Ann Puddingstick Clothespin, tightly in her arms, “that surely must be the kind man who has the trained bear with the ring in his nose. Now we are safe and we will get many good things to eat, Neddie.”

“We had better take a peep before we run out from behind this bush,” said Neddie, slow and careful like. “Perhaps it is some other man with a horn, trying to fool us.”

You know the bear children had met in the woods, one day, a nice, kind trained bear, and with him was a man called the Professor, who led the bear around by a rope, fast to a ring in the bear’s nose. And the trained bear did tricks, such as turning somersaults and standing on his head, while the man collected, in his hat, pennies that people tossed to him.

The trained bear invited Neddie to travel around with him, promising that he would have popcorn and other good things to eat, but at first Neddie was afraid of the man with the brass horn.

So he ran home; but the more Neddie thought of it the more he wanted to run away and become a traveling trained bear. So he got his sister Beckie to go with him, and away they ran in the evening, leaving their home and their papa and mamma; and Aunt Piffy, the fat bear lady, and Uncle Wigwag, and Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear, and all their friends. Then they came to the woods and heard the brass trumpet blowing, as I have told you.

“Can you see anything?” asked Beckie, as she looked over her brother’s head, while he was peering through the holes in a bramble bush.

“Not yet,” answered Neddie. Just then there came another blast on the brass trumpet, and Neddie cried:

“Oh, yes! There he is!” And then Beckie saw the tame bear with the ring in his nose, instead of in an ear where some ladies wear theirs, and with the tame bear was the man with the long pole.

“Now, George,” the man was saying, “I guess we’ll go to sleep, and in the morning we’ll do some more tricks and get more pennies. Whoop-la! There’s your supper, George!”

“I guess it’s time for us to run out now,” said Neddie to his sister, when he heard the word supper.

“Yes,” said Beckie, “I guess it is.” You see it was really after supper time, and Beckie and Neddie had eaten theirs before they ran away from home. But running away makes you hungry, whether you’ve had supper or not, I suppose.

Out ran the two bear children, and Beckie especially was very glad they had found the tame bear, for it was getting real late, and, though the moon was shining brightly, still she wanted company.

“Hello, what’s this!” cried the man with the pole, as he saw Neddie and Beckie running toward him. “More bears! Are they going to bite me?”

“Oh, no!” quickly answered the trained bear, “I know who they are. One of them is a friend of mine whom I met in the woods the other day. I invited him to come with me, and I see he has brought his sister. Perhaps you would like to train them to do tricks.”

“Ha! I think I would,” said the man. “They might do tricks very nicely with you. I’ll have a regular bear family,” and he pulled some pieces of dried bread out of a bag on his arm, and, taking some himself, he gave the rest to the trained bear.

“If you please,” said Neddie, making a polite bow, so low that his little tail almost pointed to the sky. “If you please, did we hear you mention supper?”

“You did,” answered the man. “It is supper time for me and George—rather late, it is true, but still supper time. My bear’s name is George,” he added. “Eat your supper, George.”

“I am eating it,” said the trained bear, speaking in his own language, which the man understood, and spoke also. Not many men can speak bear language, but this one could because his head was all bare. He was a bald-headed man, and they can mostly always speak a bear language.

“But what about something to eat for us?” asked Beckie.

“Yes,” added Neddie, “we’re hungry, and you know, George,” he said, speaking to the trained bear, “you said something about popcorn and cake and lollypops—”

“I know I did,” answered the trained bear, sort of confused like and puzzled, as he ate his dried bread. “But I didn’t mean I had popcorn every day.”

“I should say not!” exclaimed the man, whose name was Professor. “The idea! I’d soon be in the poorhouse if I gave George popcorn every day. That’s only for Thanksgiving, or Christmas, or the like. But you are welcome to some dried bread.”

Then he gave Neddie and Beckie some bread from the bag, and the two bear children had to take it. They did not like it very much, but it was the best they could get, and they were hungry.

“Running away isn’t as nice as staying home,” whispered Beckie to her brother, after she had put her doll to sleep under some dried leaves.

“Oh, well, it will be nice to-morrow,” spoke Neddie. “And, anyhow, it will be Thanksgiving in a couple of days, and then we’ll have plenty of good things to eat.”

“I wonder where we will sleep?” went on Beckie. “I don’t see any nice cave-house, such as we have at home.”

“I should say not!” cried Neddie. “You don’t live in a house after you’ve run away. The idea! We’ll live out of doors, and we won’t have to wash our faces and paws when we don’t want to.”

“I never mind doing that, anyhow,” said Beckie, who was a very clean little bear.

Well, Neddie and Beckie finished their dried bread, and they wished they had some buns, or maybe even some ice cream, for all I know, and then the man said:

“Well, it is not so very late, and there is a nice moon, so I think I will see if you little new bears can do any tricks. Come now, climb that pole!” and he pointed to a telegraph pole growing in the woods.

“Oh, we can’t climb that,” said Neddie, quickly.

“Why not?” asked the man with the bald head. “You must climb it if you are to be trick-trained bears.”

“Why, the pole is too smooth and slippery,” said Beckie. “It has no branches sticking out to take hold of, as a tree has.”

“Pooh! That’s nothing. George can climb the pole,” said his master. “Show ’em how, George.”

“All right, Professor,” said George, free and easy like, and up the pole he went, like a jumping-jack on a string.

Then Neddie tried it, but he slipped back, and so did Beckie. They had not yet learned how to stick their claws in the smooth telegraph pole, and hold on.

“I’m afraid you’ll never be trick bears,” said the Professor. “I must teach you to climb a pole. We’ll try it again to-morrow.”

But Neddie and Beckie did not wait until next day. All of a sudden, out from under a bush, came the biggest skillery-scalery alligator the bear children had ever seen. Right for Beckie and Neddie the ’gator came, and Neddie cried:

“Come on, Beckie! Up the pole we go and then he can’t get us!”

“Let me go first! Let me go first!” cried Beckie, and Neddie did, most politely. And, before they knew it, those two bear children had climbed the smooth telegraph pole they never thought they could scale, and the ’gator could not get them.

What do you think of that?

Then George and the Professor drove the bad alligator away, not being the least bit afraid of him or his tail either, for that matter, and the man called:

“You may come down now, Beckie and Neddie. At last you have learned to climb a pole, though it did take the alligator to make you. You will never forget it. Come down, and go to sleep, and in the morning we will travel on.”

So Beckie and Neddie came down the pole, and curled up in the soft warm leaves to sleep, glad enough that they had on thick fur coats, for the weather was very cold. And soon they were safe in by-low land.

And now, if the church steeple doesn’t reach up and tickle the clouds so that they giggle and let a lot of rain fall on my umbrella, I’ll tell you next about Neddie doing a trick.

STORY VIII
NEDDIE DOES A TRICK

Neddie and Beckie Stubtail, the little children bears, did not sleep very well the first night they ran away from home to become trained animals. There were several reasons for this.

In the first place they had to sleep out of doors, and not in their own nice cave-house. And then, too, their papa and mamma were not with them.

“It—it’s lonesome,” whispered Beckie, waking up in the dark and putting out her paw to touch her brother. “Oh, Neddie, I wish I’d stayed home!”

“Hush! Go to sleep!” advised Neddie, kindly. “You’ll wake up George, the trained bear, and the Professor man if you talk.”

“Are they asleep?” whispered Beckie, feeling down in the leaves to see if her doll, Mary Ann Puddingstick Clothespin, was all right.

“Sure they’re asleep,” answered Neddie. “Hear ’em snore?”

And, truly enough, you could hear that bear George snore as real as anything, honestly you could. What? You didn’t know bears snored? Well, did you ever sleep near one? I guess not! So, you see, you can’t tell. But I can.

“And it will soon be morning,” went on Neddie, “and then, maybe, we’ll travel on and on, and not have any lessons to do, and we may get buns and popcorn.”

“Yes, the trained bear did mention about buns,” said Beckie, and then, thinking of sweet buns and crackers she did manage to go to sleep.

But, oh! she did miss her mamma, and Aunt Piffy, the old bear lady, who was so fat. And more than once Neddie wished he might wake up and see Uncle Wigwag, even if the old bear gentleman did play a trick on him. And as for Mr. Whitewash, the Polar bear, Neddie would have given a whole penny to see him again for even a second.

Still, he had run away of his own free will, Neddie had, and he must make the best of it.

“Besides, I like it!” he said to himself. “I’m going to learn to be a trained bear, and, when Beckie and I get a lot of money we’ll go back home and make mamma and papa rich.”

Neddie thought it would be very easy to do this. In fact, he was a very kind little bear and had not meant to do wrong when he asked Beckie to run away with him.

But now let us see what happened.

Morning came at last. The sun rose from behind the hills, where it had slept all night, and made a bright light through the trees, from which all the leaves now had fallen.

“Well, children, did you sleep well?” asked George, the trained bear, as he wet his big paws in a spring of water and washed his face.

“Pretty well, thank you,” answered Neddie, politely.

“Do you think we will get some buns and popcorn to-day, George?” asked Beckie, anxiously.

“We might,” said the trained bear. “I’m sorry I made you think we trained bears had that sort of food every day. But if we don’t get it to-day I’m sure we will on Thursday, which will be Thanksgiving. And, anyhow, to-day we’ll travel on, and you’ll see me do my tricks, and you’ll hear the Professor blow his bugle and sing, and you’ll see the people standing around to look at me and wonder. And, who knows? perhaps you may do some tricks yourselves.”

“We can climb a telegraph pole, anyhow,” said Beckie, a bit proudly. “Even if it did take an alligator to scare us into doing it.”

“Well, we’ll have breakfast and travel on,” said the Professor, after a bit. Then he reached in the bag again and pulled out some more dried bread.

“Only that!” whispered Neddie, and he thought of what a nice meal the folks at home were having—huckleberry pancakes, maybe, with maple sugar on, and hot buns and milk sweetened with honey.

“Oh, dear!” sighed Beckie, but she was a brave little bear girl and made up her mind not to find fault, especially after having run away when she didn’t really have to. So Beckie washed the face of her rubber doll, Mary Ann Puddingstick Clothespin, and made believe give her some breakfast.

Then Beckie and Neddie ate their dried bread, and so did George, the trained bear, and the Professor ate some too. Then the Professor played a lively tune on his bugle:

“Ta-ra! Ta-ra-ta! Ta-ra-ta! Ta-ra-ta! Ta! Ta!” he blew.

It was quite nice and jolly and made all the bears feel better.

“Here we go!” cried the Professor. “Forward—march! Here we go!”

He tossed the long pole to George, who shouldered it just like a gun, and marched on with his head high in the air, while Beckie and Neddie laughed at him, he was so funny.

“Oh, I guess we’ll like this after all,” said Neddie.

“Maybe,” spoke Beckie, as she hugged her rubber doll.

But every one was very sad back in the cave-house where the Stubtail children lived. As soon as morning had come Aunt Piffy, going in to call Neddie and Beckie, saw that they were not in their beds.

“They’re gone!” cried the nice, fat old lady bear.

“They’re up to some trick,” said Uncle Wigwag, who, always playing tricks himself, thought that other bears would do the same thing.

“We must find them,” said Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear.

But although they looked all over they could not find Neddie and Beckie, of course, for the children were with the Professor and the trained bear, far, far away. You knew that, didn’t you?

Oh! how badly papa and mamma Stubtail felt, and they called a nice dog policeman to help find Neddie and Beckie. But I’ll tell you about that part later. This story is about Neddie’s trick.

After breakfast, as I said, the Professor, George, the trained bear, and Neddie and Beckie went on and on through the woods.

“Soon we will come to a village,” said the Professor. “There George will do some of his tricks, and you little bears can climb a telegraph pole, or maybe the church steeple. Then the people will laugh and clap their hands and give us things to eat.”

“Buns and popcorn balls?” asked Beckie, anxiously.

“Yes, I think so,” said the Professor.

Soon they did come to a village, and the Professor blew some sweet notes on his bugle. At once a lot of children came running out to watch the bears, and when they saw Neddie and Beckie the children said:

“Oh, aren’t they cute!”

One little girl even touched Beckie’s fur, and Beckie liked to feel the tiny hand. Beckie and Neddie were getting so they were not afraid of real folks. Then George, the trained bear, did some of his tricks, turning somersaults, playing soldier and the like.

“Now you little bears will do a trick,” said the Professor. “Come, Neddie, climb a pole!” And he blew on the bugle.

Neddie looked for a pole to climb, but just then he saw a fat woman, almost as fat as Aunt Piffy, coming down the street. The fat woman had a basket of eggs on her arm, and the eggs were very heavy.

“Oh, I must help her!” said Neddie, politely, for his mamma had always taught him to be polite to ladies, whether they were fat or not.

So Neddie waltzed over to take the basket of eggs so that he might help the woman. She saw the bear coming and, not knowing Neddie was kind and tame and trained, she screamed and ran. Neddie ran after her, and just as he put his paw on the handle of the basket of eggs he slipped on a banana peeling, and so did the fat lady. Down they both went, ker-thump, and the basket of eggs fell also—and——

Well, you can imagine what happened! Neddie and the fat woman were just covered with the whites and yellows of eggs—all stuck up like—and everybody laughed like anything. Really they could not help it.

“Oh, what a fine trick!” cried the boys and girls, clapping their hands.

“Yes, but it is too expensive a trick to do every day,” said the Professor. “I shall have to pay for those eggs, I guess.” And the fat woman made him pay almost a dollar, and nobody gave Neddie or Beckie any buns, or popcorn balls, either.

“Well, we’ll travel on,” said the Professor. “We may get some ice cream in the next place.” So on they went after Neddie had washed off the sticky eggs from his fur in a brook of water.

And next, if the rubber plant doesn’t stretch itself out and take all the lumps of sugar from the salt cellar, I’ll tell you about the Stubtails’ Thanksgiving.

STORY IX
THE STUBTAILS’ THANKSGIVING

“Mamma! Mamma!” called little Beckie Stubtail, the bear girl, as she awoke in the morning. “Oh, mamma, is breakfast ready?”

“Hush!” exclaimed Neddie, the little boy bear, as he reached over with his paw and patted his sister Beckie. “Mamma isn’t here, Beckie.”

“Oh, that’s so; she isn’t,” and Beckie sat up in her bed of leaves under a tree out in the open air. Neddie was sleeping next to her, and on the other side was George, the tame trained bear, and Professor, the man who made George do tricks, and who blew tunes on a brass horn.

“Oh, dear!” cried Beckie. “I thought, for a minute, just for a minute, Neddie, you know, that we were back home again with mamma, and papa and Aunt Piffy and Uncle Wigwag and Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear, and all our friends. But we’re not; are we?”

“No,” answered Neddie, stretching out in the dried leaves, so that they rustled like corn husks. “We’re not home, Beckie. We ran away, you know, to become trained bears, and earn money the way Jackie and Peetie Bow Wow, the puppy dog boys, did when they joined the circus.”

“Only they didn’t,” said Beckie, looking to see if her rubber doll, Maryann Puddingstick Clothespin, was still asleep.

“They didn’t what?” asked Neddie.

“They didn’t earn any money. And maybe we won’t.”

“Oh, yes, we will,” said Neddie. “You see we know how to do the trick of climbing the telegraph pole, and I can take a basket of eggs, and fall down, and break almost every one.”

“Yes,” laughed Beckie, “but that’s a trick the Professor doesn’t want you to do. Eggs cost too much!” and she laughed again, as she thought of the fat lady whose basket of eggs Neddie had tried to carry, when he slipped on a banana skin and went down ker-thump! as I told you in another story.

“Well, anyhow, we’ll learn some real tricks, and soon we’ll get money,” spoke Neddie. He and his sister, you know, had run away from their house in the nice cave to join George, the tame bear, with a ring in his nose, and the Professor who made George do tricks.

“I wonder what we’ll have for breakfast to-day?” asked Beckie, as she saw George, the big bear, stretching himself.

“I hope it’s something good,” spoke Neddie, as he saw the Professor getting up. “I’m tired of dried bread; and that’s all we’ve had so far.”

“Yes; we haven’t had any of the nice buns and the popcorn balls that George told us about that day he met us in the woods,” went on Beckie.

“Come to breakfast, Beckie and Neddie,” called the Professor, for he could speak and understand bear language. And he took some dried bread out of his bag.

“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Beckie.

“Dear, oh!” cried Neddie.

“Never mind,” said the Professor, “to-morrow will be Thanksgiving and I’m sure something will happen between now and then so that we shall all have a fine dinner. We will start off soon, and see if we can find our fortunes as Uncle Wiggily, the rabbit gentleman, did his. Come on!”

So the little bear children, and George, the trained bear, and the Professor ate their breakfast of dried bread, and drank some water from a spring. And then they traveled on again.

Sometimes they would come to a little village, or town, and there the Professor would blow his brass horn. All the boys and girls, and some of the older people, would gather about in a circle. Then George, the big bear, would do his tricks, marching like a soldier, turning somersaults, waltzing, climbing a tree or making believe wrestle with the Professor.

“And the little bears can do tricks, too,” said the Professor to the people. “Come, Beckie—Neddie, climb a pole for the audience!”

Then the little Stubtail bears would stick their claws into a smooth telegraph pole, and up they would go to the very tip-top.

Then you should have heard the children laugh and shout, and clap their hands. The big people would put pennies in the hat of the Professor, and some of the children would run in their houses and get slices of bread, or maybe an apple or something else good to eat to give to the bears. For George, the big fellow, as well as Beckie and Neddie were kind, gentle and tame bears, you know. They would hurt no one.

But when it came night they had gotten nothing like a Thanksgiving dinner, nor did they have any invitation to eat one with friends, either.

“I—I wish we were home,” said Beckie, and some tears came into her eyes. The tears didn’t quite fall out, but almost.

“Well, wait until to-morrow,” suggested Neddie. “Something may happen then, and it isn’t Thanksgiving until to-morrow, you know.”

Well, the next day came. It was Thanksgiving, and still there was no sign of a fine, big dinner for the bears or the Professor. They had slept that night in the woods, the Professor cuddling up close to big George to keep warm in the bear’s thick fur. And though they had some cookies and cakes and apples to eat, it was far from being what Beckie or Neddie would have had, had they not run away from their cave-house.

“We’ll travel on,” said the Professor, “and see what happens.”

Well, they had not gone very far, before all of a sudden they saw a man running through the woods. And right after him came a big lion, roaring as loudly as he could roar. And the lion was switching his tail from side to side, and every now and then, reaching out his claws to grab the man.

“Oh, save me! Save me!” cried the man.

“Bur-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r!” roared the lion.

“Oh, can’t you help the poor man?” asked Beckie, of George, the big bear.

“I’ll try,” said George. Then he ran after the lion, and with the long pole which the Professor let George carry as a soldier-gun, George tripped up the roaring lion beast. Just then the Professor blew a loud blast on his brass horn, and Beckie and Neddie threw a lot of oak tree acorns at the lion. All this frightened the lion very much, especially when he felt the acorns hitting him. He thought they were bullets, and he thought the noise of the brass horn meant that a lot of soldiers were coming after him.

So away ran the lion through the woods, and the man was safe. Oh, how thankful he was!

“You saved my life,” he said to the Professor, and to Neddie and Beckie and George. “What can I do for you? where are you going?”

“We are looking for a Thanksgiving dinner,” said the Professor, “but we have not found it yet.”

“Ha! Say no more!” cried the man, quickly. “Come with me! I will give you the best Thanksgiving dinner you ever ate!”

“Who are you?” asked Beckie.

“I am a circus man,” answered the one the lion had chased. “But we do not give shows in winter. I have all my animals in a big barn, not far away. This morning that lion would not bring in a pail of milk when I asked him to, and to punish him I said he could have no dinner. So he chased me, and I don’t know what he would have done had he caught me. But you saved me, the lion has run away, and I suppose a policeman monkey will catch him. But you—come to my animal barn and you may have the dinner I was going to give the lion, as well as all you can eat besides. Come on!”

“Oh, at last we are to have a Thanksgiving dinner!” cried Neddie. “Oh, joy!” And Beckie clapped her paws.

Then the Professor and Beckie and Neddie and George, the big bear, followed the circus man. He led them to a big barn in the woods. And, oh! all the animals that were there—elephants and tigers and good lions, and zebras and more bears and lots of monkeys, and giraffes with necks so long that they could pick an orange off a church steeple, and cunning little ponies, and a hippopotamus with a mouth like a red flannel bag—and hundreds of others.

“Welcome to our Thanksgiving dinner!” all the animals cried to Beckie and Neddie when they saw the Stubtail children. “Eat all you want!”

And such a dinner as it was! From cranberry sauce to popcorn balls and honey cakes and blueberry pie and chestnuts and cider—and, oh, dear! I mustn’t write any more about it or I’ll get the indigspepsia. Anyhow it was a grand dinner, and in the middle of it who should come back but the bad lion who had chased the circus man.

“I’m—I’m sorry I was bad,” roared the lion. “May I have a piece of pie?” Then the circus man forgave him, and the lion had a good dinner. And Beckie and Neddie stayed in the circus barn all night, feeling quite happy.

And I hope you have a good dinner on Thanksgiving—each and every one of you. But don’t eat too much. Then on the page after this, if the fishman doesn’t blow his horn in the phonograph and scare the player-piano, I’ll tell you about Neddie and the elephant.

STORY X
NEDDIE AND THE ELEPHANT

It was the day after Thanksgiving. Neddie and Beckie Stubtail, the two little bear children, awoke in the barn where the circus man kept all his animals during winter, when he was not giving a show in the big tent. Neddie and Beckie felt very nice and comfortable, for they had had a good holiday dinner when they had almost given up expecting one; they had a nice warm place to sleep, and they were happier than at any time since they had run away from home to join George, the big trained bear, and the Professor, his master, who led George around by a chain fast to a ring in his nose.

“Are you there, Neddie?” called Beckie from her bed in the nice clean sawdust. She was hugging her doll Mary Ann Puddingstick Clothespin.

“Of course I’m here,” answered Neddie, blinking both his eyes, and wiggling his little short tail. “Aren’t you glad you ran away now with me, sister, so you can become a trained bear?”

“Yes—I guess so,” answered Beckie. “Still, I’d like to see my mamma, and nice fat Aunt Piffy, just once.”

“Oh, we’ll go back home pretty soon,” said Neddie. “When we have earned some money. Then papa and mamma will forgive us for running away.”

“I hope so,” went on Beckie. “And I hope that Uncle Wigwag won’t play any jokes on us.”

“Oh, he’s sure to do that, but we mustn’t mind,” said Neddie, as he hopped up and shook the sawdust out of his ears.

George, the tame bear who did tricks, was already up, and he was waltzing around to where a lot of monkey ladies were getting breakfast for the circus animals. Then the Professor, who led George around by the nose when the bear did tricks, stretched out and yawned and said to the circus man:

“It was very kind of you to let us stay here all night.”

“Pray do not mention it,” said the circus man politely. “I hope you rested well.”

“Yes, but I did not get to sleep very early,” said the bear Professor. “I think perhaps I ate too much mince pie, with strawberry ice cream on it.”

“And I didn’t sleep very good, either,” went on Beckie. “But it was because the elephant snored so that I was afraid he would shake the roof down on our heads.”

“Oh, you mustn’t mind that,” said the circus man with a laugh. “Nosey, that’s the elephant’s name, you see, really never does any harm. He’s as gentle as a kitten and as playful as a frog.”

“Well, I wouldn’t like him to jump on me,” said Neddie with a laugh. “He’s a good bit larger than Bully, the frog, who lives near the beaver pond back home.”

Then breakfast was ready, and the monkey ladies waited on the tables at which the circus animals sat down. And, in order that they would not step on their own tails, the monkey ladies tied them around their necks in a double bow. This made them look nice, and also kept them from catching cold in their ears.

Neddie and Beckie Stubtail had a good breakfast and they were thinking of staying with the circus man, instead of going off looking for adventures with George, the Professor, when the circus man called:

“All ready now! First class in somersaults!”

“Why, he sounds just like our school teacher!” exclaimed Neddie. “I didn’t think we’d have school when we left our home.”

“This isn’t regular school,” explained the circus man, “but my animals have to study their lessons, just the same. How do you think an elephant could waltz and play a hand organ, to say nothing of standing on a tub and wagging his tail, if he did not have lessons and practise them? Of course we have to have a sort of school.”

“And I think I’ll send Neddie and Beckie to it,” said the Professor. “They could learn tricks then much better than I could teach them, and George and I would have more time to collect pennies and buns and popcorn balls.”

“Would you like to go to school to me, and learn tricks?” asked the circus man of the bear children, and they said they would.

“Very well, then,” said the circus man. “As soon as I have taught my new elephant how to stand on his head I’ll begin, and give you a lesson.”

Then the new elephant, who, as yet, knew hardly any tricks, had to get out in the middle of the sawdust ring and learn to stand on his head. It was not easy, either. One of the older elephants had to show the new elephant a number of times before he could do it even a little bit. But finally he could, and the circus man said:

“Now stay standing on your head for ten minutes, Frisko. It will be good practice for you. Don’t get down! Stay right as you are. Now then, second class in fast running!” and the circus man took a lot of ponies over to one side of the barn to have them practice for the races.

And all the while, Frisko, the new elephant, had to stand on his head. The Professor took George, the bear, off to one side of the circus barn to teach his pet a new trick, and as Beckie had to wash and dress her rubber doll, Neddie was left with nothing to do. So he walked over and watched the new elephant learning the trick of standing on his head.

“Do you like it?” asked Neddie, the bear boy, of the elephant.

“Oh, yes, I don’t mind,” said the big creature. “Oh, dear!” he suddenly cried. “Oh, me! Oh, my!” and a big tear, about as large as a cup of water, came in each of the elephant’s eyes.

“Why, what is the matter?” asked Neddie kindly.

“Oh, my back itches me something terrible!” said Frisko, the elephant, “and I daren’t get down from standing on my head to scratch it. Oh, dear!”

Now, if there is one thing worse than another it is to have an itchy place where you can’t scratch it. Neddie knew this as well as anybody. It’s as bad as wanting to sneeze when some one scares you out of it, and really that’s the very worst thing that can happen.

“Oh, my!” went on the elephant, and he wiggled about, and tried to scratch the itchy place on his back, but he couldn’t, and he didn’t dare get down from standing on his head, for fear the circus man would be angry at him, and oh! such a lot of trouble as he had.

But Neddie thought of a plan.

“How would you like to have me scratch your back for you Frisko?” asked the little bear boy. “I won’t dig my claws in very deep. Shall I scratch you?”

“If you only would,” sighed the elephant. So Neddie gently scratched the big creature who was standing on his head. “Ah, that is lovely. I feel so much better now,” said the elephant. “I can stand this way as long as I have to.”

But he did not have to stand on his head much longer, for the circus man came over pretty soon and said to Frisko:

“That will do. You recited your lesson very nicely. Now you may go to the kitchen and get a lump of sugar.”

And the elephant did—a large lump, for he had a large mouth, you know.

“Now, Neddie Stubtail, I think I’ll see what sort of lesson tricks I’ll give you to study,” went on the circus man. “First, let me see you climb up this pole.”

There was a big round pole, like a telegraph one, sticking up in the middle of the circus barn floor.

“Oh, I can’t do that!” said Neddie. But then he remembered how he and Beckie had once gone up the telegraph pole the time the skillery-scalery alligator was after them. Up and up went Neddie, sticking his claws into the soft wood. Beckie, watching her brother, felt very proud of him, and so did George, the tame trained bear.

Neddie was almost at the top, when, all of a sudden, the pole began to tip over and over and over.

“Oh, it’s falling!” cried Beckie. “Neddie, look out! You’ll be hurt!”

No one knew what to do. There was great excitement. The lions roared and the tigers snarled. Then Frisko, the elephant, who had practiced standing on his head, and whose back Neddie had so kindly scratched, came rushing up, swallowing the last of his lump of sugar, and this elephant cried:

“Make way for me. I am strong. I can hold up that pole until you make it fast so it will not fall. I’ll save Neddie.”

And the elephant did. In his strong trunk he held the pole up straight until other elephants nailed it to make it firm and steady. Then Neddie could come safely down. The elephant had saved him. So you see you should always scratch an elephant’s back when you can.

And now about the next story. Let me see. I think, in case the feathers in the lady’s hat do not tickle the milk pitcher so that it falls off the table and spills all the cream, I’ll tell you about Beckie and the monkey.

STORY XI
BECKIE AND THE MONKEY

Many things happened to Neddie and Beckie Stubtail, the little bear boy and girl, while they stayed with the circus man in the barn where they had their Thanksgiving dinner. Oh many, many things happened, but I have only room to tell you of a few of them.

The two little bears cubs had been in the circus barn about a week, and though they liked it very much, and, though George, the tame trained bear, and his master, the Professor, and the other man, and the elephant and the lions and tigers were all very kind to Neddie and Beckie, they began to wish they were home.

“I—I’m sort of sorry we ran away,” said Beckie one morning, as she put a new dress on her rubber doll, Mary Ann Puddingstick Clothespin. It was only her own pocket handkerchief that Beckie used for a doll’s dress, but it did very well for all that.

“I guess I’m a bit sorry, too,” said Neddie. “We have learned some tricks, to be sure, and I can turn a somersault almost as good as George can, but still it isn’t as much fun as I though it would be.”

“I guess running away never is,” said Beckie.

“But we have had some fun,” went on Neddie.

“Do you mean the time you did the trick of climbing the pole here in the barn, and it toppled over with you and the elephant had to hold it up?” asked Beckie. “Was that fun?”

“I was too scared to think it was funny, but it might have been jolly for the others,” laughed Neddie.

Then the two little bear children, who had run away from their home in the cave-house on the side of the hill, walked around the circus barn. They listened to the lions having their roaring lessons, in which the seals, who juggled rubber balls on the ends of their noses, also joined. Then Neddie and Beckie looked at the tall giraffes take a lesson in picking oranges off the top rafters of the barn, and at the hippopotamus, who had to have his sore throat looked at by Dr. Possum, who always attended the sick circus animals.

“My! You have a very sore throat,” said Dr. Possum to the hippopotamus when he had looked at it. The hippo opened his mouth so wide that Dr. Possum could get right inside, which he did, sitting on the hippo’s tongue in order to see better. “Yes, a very sore throat,” went on Dr. Possum. “You must gargle it.”

So he gave the hippo some medicine, and the hippo gargled his throat and really he made such a funny noise, like thunder, doing it that Beckie and Neddie had to laugh. And that made the hippo sneeze so that he could not gargle.

“When are we going out traveling around again?” asked Neddie of the Professor and George. “Are we always going to stay here with the circus animals?”

“No, indeed,” answered the Professor as he blew a nice tune on his brass horn. “But it is getting too cold for traveling now, and sleeping out in the woods. Besides, all the children are saving up their pennies for Christmas, and they will not drop any in my cap when I go around after George has done his tricks.

“So I think we will stay with the kind circus man and his pets for some time—at least until it gets warmer. Meanwhile, Neddie, I want to show you a new trick that you can do with George. I’ll have you ride on his shoulders, carrying a broom, and I think that will make the people laugh, and when people laugh they give you more pennies than otherwise.”

“Oh, goodie! I’m going to learn another trick!” cried Neddie in delight. Then the Professor took the little bear boy off to one side of the barn, near the place where the elephants slept in the hay, and, with the big, kind, tame bear, George, they practiced the new trick, the Professor blowing a tooting-toot-toot-tune on his brass horn every once in a while.

This left Beckie to play by herself, but she was not lonesome, for she had her rubber doll to take care of, and she could watch the hippo gargle his big red flannel throat, and she looked at the monkeys doing tricks in their cages.

Beckie was not very lonesome. But perhaps if she and Neddie could have seen what was going on back in their cave-house by the hill, they would have run to their papa and mamma as fast as their legs would take them, for Mr. and Mrs. Stubtail were very lonesome for their children. So was Aunt Piffy, the fat bear lady, and also Uncle Wigwag and Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear.

“If my children do not soon come home to me,” said Mrs. Stubtail, wiping her eyes on her apron, “I don’t know what I shall do.”

“I know,” said Mr. Whitewash, “Uncle Wiggily Longears, the rabbit gentleman, and I will start off and find them. If Uncle Wiggily could find his fortune he can find lost children.”

“That is a good idea,” said Papa Stubtail. “If Neddie and Beckie do not soon come back I’ll get Uncle Wiggily after them.”

And, all this while, mind you, Neddie and Beckie were in the circus barn.

Well, after Beckie had given her rubber doll a nice wash in the parrot’s bathtub, the little bear girl heard some one crying. At first she thought it might be some bad animal, pretending to be in trouble, so as to catch something for his supper. Then Beckie remembered that she was safe in the circus barn, where all the animals were her friends.

So she looked around, and there she saw a great big grandfather monkey crying, and holding his face in his paw. He was all hunched up and stooped over as if he hadn’t a friend in the world, and he looked very sorrowful.

“Oh, what is the matter?” asked Beckie, kindly.

“I have a terrible toothache,” said the monkey gentleman.

“Oh, that’s too bad!” exclaimed Beckie. She knew what a toothache was, once having had one herself. “Why don’t you do something for it?” she asked.

“I don’t know what to do,” said the grandfather monkey. “That is, unless I have it pulled, and I don’t want to do that.”

“I don’t blame you,” said Beckie, “still it might be better to have it out.”

“If they could just pull out the ache, and leave the tooth in, I would not mind it so much,” went on the monkey. “But when they pull the tooth just to get out the ache—that is too much! Oh, dear!” and he almost stood up on the end of his tail, the pain was so bad.

Beckie glanced about the circus barn. No one seemed to be looking after the toothache monkey. All the other monkeys were practicing on their hand organs, and all the other animals were reciting their different lessons. Beckie and the old Grandfather monkey were all by themselves.

“I know what I’ll do,” said the little bear girl. “I’ll just slip out and go to Dr. Possum’s and get some toothache medicine for you. That may stop your pain.”

“Oh, will you?” cried the grandpa monkey. “That will be very kind of you.”

So Beckie left her rubber doll asleep, and slipped out of the circus barn when no one was looking. She hurried to Dr. Possum’s office and got some very strong medicine. Then, when she went back, she put some on some cotton and then she put the cotton in the hole of the monkey’s tooth, and soon it was all better.

Then, as Beckie had nothing else to do, she thought she would go to sleep with her doll, which she did, lying down in the soft, clean sawdust. Beckie slept and slept, and so she did not see the bad old skillery-scalery alligator slip in through the barn door which she had left open when she came in with the toothache medicine.

Nearer and nearer came the ’gator to Beckie. She did not see him, neither did Neddie nor the circus man, nor the Professor nor George, the big bear, or they might have driven him away.

“Ah, ha! Now I’ll get her!” whispered the alligator to himself. “She is asleep and can’t see me. I’ll just carry her off to my den, and then—Ah, we shall see what will happen then!”

But Beckie was not to be carried off by the ’gator. All of a sudden the grandpa monkey, whose toothache was all better now, saw the skillery-scalery creature.

“Wake up, Beckie! Wake up!” cried the good monkey. “Get out of the way, and I’ll attend to that alligator.”

Beckie awakened, and rolled out of the way just in time, or the alligator might have grabbed her. Then the monkey took four pawfuls of sawdust and threw it in the eyes of the alligator and down his throat and into his mouth and nose and ears, making the ’gator sneeze forty-’leven times. And whenever a ’gator sneezes that way he can’t harm anybody.

That’s what happened to this skillery-scalery alligator, and away he went, taking his humpy-bumpy tail with him. So Beckie was saved, which shows that you should always stop a monkey’s toothache when you can.

Then the bear children and the circus animals had their supper, and there was pickled ice cream for those who wanted it. And, in the next story, if the baby doesn’t sit down in the peach basket so tightly that we have to take the poker to get her out, I’ll tell you about Neddie and Beckie going back home.

STORY XII
NEDDIE AND BECKIE GO HOME

“Oh, Neddie!” exclaimed Beckie Stubtail, the little girl bear, as she rolled over in the clean shavings on the floor of the barn where the circus animals stayed during the cold winter months.

“Oh, Neddie, I’ve just thought of the nicest game we can play! Oh, it’s just too lovely for anything!”

“Pooh! A girl’s game!” answered Neddie, the boy bear, as he looked under a pile of sawdust to see if he could find popcorn ball, or maybe an ice cream cone. Mind, I’m not saying for sure, but maybe. Anyhow, Neddie found nothing good to eat, so it doesn’t make any difference.

“I don’t want to play any girls’ games,” went on Neddie.

I don’t call Neddie very polite, myself, but then you may think differently. Beckie looked sort of disappointed, and her paws, in which she was holding Mary Ann Puddingstick Clothespin, her rubber doll, trembled a little, and Beckie thought sure she was going to have to use her pocket “hankerwitch” (which is just the same of your handkerchief) to wipe away her tears.

For Beckie was lonesome, and she wanted her mamma, and the little girl bear wished she hadn’t run away from home with her brother to go with the Professor and George, the big, tame, trained bear with the ring in his nose. Yes, indeed, Beckie was sorry she had run away.

I guess Neddie was sorry, too, for, after pawing about a bit in the sawdust, he looked at his sister, and when he saw her lips quivering, and that she was trying to reach for her hankerwitch without him seeing it—then Neddie did what he should have done at first, and said:

“Oh, well, Beckie, maybe a girl’s game would be nice after all. We aren’t doing much here. Tell me about it.”

“I will,” said Beckie, and she brightened up and smiled as well as little girl bears can smile, and she patted her little rubber doll, and said:

“Now, Neddie, just as soon as Mary Ann Puddingstick Clothespin is asleep I’ll tell you about the trick I thought up all by myself.”

So Neddie waited until the rubber doll should close her eyes, and go fast, fast to sleep. It took some time.

“Well, isn’t that doll asleep yet?” asked Neddie after a bit. He was anxious to know what trick Beckie was going to tell about.

“Hush! Yes, she’s asleep,” said the little bear girl. “Come on, we’ll go over near where the elephants are eating their peanuts and I’ll tell you all about it. Will you kindly watch over Mary Ann Puddingstick Clothespin?” asked Beckie of the big hippopotamus.

“I will,” answered the river-horse, yawning until it looked as if some one had opened a big red flannel bag, so large was the hippo’s mouth.