Chapter IV: Part 4

“I can pick them myself now,” she said, laughing to herself to think she had escaped from the servants, and she began picking all the wild flowers she could find, walking along all the time and going farther into the forest.

When it was sunset the Princess Dido found herself in the thick of the trees and bushes, and she began to wonder why her attendants did not find her and take her home; but the sun set and the stars came out and still no one came, and Princess Dido felt tired and lay down among the leaves and mosses and went to sleep.

When she awoke the moon was shining, and although she was in the forest alone she was not afraid, for she did not think any one would harm a princess, so she rolled over on her soft bed, thinking she would go to sleep again, when something cold touched her cheek.

Princess Dido opened her eyes very wide then and sat up, and on a bush beside her she saw a very small gold key hanging by a thread which swung back and forth and half touched her face.

“I wonder what this cunning little key can fit,” said the Princess. “I do wish I knew! I am sure I should find something nice. I believe I will look about. I am not a bit sleepy, and the moon is as bright as day.”

Princess Dido hunted everywhere among the bushes and rocks, and nothing could she find, when, just as she had decided to go to sleep again, she saw something shining on a tree, and there was a tiny keyhole that the key just fitted.

She put the key in the lock and the tree opened like a door, and Princess Dido stepped inside and closed the door after her.

She walked along a road which seemed to be just behind the tree, but when she looked about she was not in the forest at all, but in a beautiful country filled with flowers and tall trees, and in the distance she saw a beautiful castle.

When Princess Dido came to the castle she saw fountains and more beautiful flowers growing around, and there were birds of all kinds singing in the trees.

“I suppose I must go to the door of the castle and let them know who I am,” thought the Princess. “A princess ought to do that, I know, but I would much rather stay in this beautiful garden and hear the birds sing and look at the flowers.”

When the Princess knocked at the door no one answered, and after waiting a short time the Princess opened the door and stepped inside. All was still and she sat down and waited.

“I expect everybody is at breakfast,” thought the Princess. “I wish I had something to eat. I didn’t have any supper, and I have not had my breakfast, either.

“Yes, I am hungry and want my breakfast,” said Princess Dido, and, though she did not know it, she had spoken right out loud, and as she did so a table appeared beside her with her breakfast on it and a bouquet of beautiful pink roses.

“I wonder where this came from. I didn’t see or hear any one,” said the Princess.

But she did not wonder about it; she was too hungry. When she had finished she walked along the hall, for, being a princess, she was in the habit of going where she liked, and as she saw no one she did the same here.

But there was no room opening out of the hall she was in, so the Princess went up the stairs, and here again she found herself in a large hall, but this was so beautiful she looked about her in wonder, for it was a much more beautiful place than her own castle. The floor was of opals and the walls were the same; the sunlight shining through the windows made the most wonderful colors wherever it fell, and all around the place were white roses, making the air sweet with their fragrance.

There was another flight of stairs, and up these the Princess went. The stairs were of silver, and on the next floor the Princess found herself in a hall of crystal with roses all around; beautiful pink roses such as she had never before beheld.

“Oh, how I wish I could pick them!” said the Princess as she went from bush to bush, and to her surprise the roses nodded as if to tell her she could if she liked.

Princess Dido broke one from its stem, and then another, and as the roses still nodded she picked more until her arms were full.

But there was another flight of stairs, and these were of gold. So the Princess walked up these and found herself in another beautiful room, which was blue, the color of sapphires, and around this room grew red roses.

But there was still another flight of stairs, and the Princess did not stop long here, with her arms filled with the pink roses. She went up the last flight and found herself in a hall filled with red, pink, and white roses, but the walls were hung with soft gray silk and the floor covered with velvet of the same color.

“Oh, how beautiful! I wish I could live here among the roses,” she said.

“You can, my Princess of the Roses,” said a voice, and from behind a curtain stepped a handsome prince, dressed in a suit of gray velvet, with trimmings of silver and pink.

He took from his head a hat with a long plume of pink and bowed low before the Princess Dido, who had dropped her roses and stood blushing as pink as the roses she had dropped.

“This is my castle, the Castle of the Roses,” explained the Prince, “and I vowed I would never marry until I found a princess who loved my roses as well as me, and you have proved you do by coming into all of my rose-garden. Others have been here, but when they found only roses in each room they never came to this floor.

“Behind these curtains is my palace. These halls of roses are but a part of my private rooms. Will you stay, Princess, or shall I call the fairies to take you back to your own castle?” asked the Prince.

“You may call the fairies to take the news to my people that I will live in the Castle of Roses, with the Prince of Roses,” said Princess Dido.

“But who hung the little gold key on the bush?” she asked the Prince.

“Oh! I asked the fairies to help me find a wife,” said the Prince. “They hung it there. You see, we shall live in an enchanted castle, as well as in the Castle of Roses, so there is nothing for us but happiness.”

CATVILLE GOSSIP

Mr. Tommy Kat was in love with Tabby Gray--at least so all the gossips in Catville say, for Tabby was as graceful as a little kit can be. Said Tommy, when he saw her, “She’s just the wife for me.”

But Tabby Gray was fickle, as sometimes kittens are; so she giggled and told Tommy he would have to ask her pa. For there was big white Tom Cat, with coat as smooth as silk, who often took her walking and treated her to milk. He had told her he would give her a ribbon bright of red, if she would only promise no other cat to wed.

Then there was Tommy Mouser, who by all was called a sport. He had told her that he loved her, and once for her had fought.

And there was Tommy Black, the dandy of the town, who was called by all who watched him the best dancer to be found.

He often danced with Tabby Gray, and frightened all the rest away; for when he danced they all stood by and looked on him with jealous eye.

And Tiger Tom, another swain, who always said he felt a pain around his heart when any other danced with her except her brother.

An admirer, too, was Tommy Buff; he said and vowed it was no bluff when he declared he loved Miss Gray and in his heart she held full sway.

And there was Tommy Black-and-White, who said he sat up many a night to serenade Miss Tabby Gray on the back-yard fence till break of day.

And Tommy, who was nicknamed Slim, said she was the only girl for him and that his eyes had turned to green because another cat was seen to walk with Tabby down the road. Since that his heart was like a load.

And so, you see, Miss Tabby Gray needed time these things to weigh, and that was why she told Tom Kat her pa would have to answer that question he had asked that night on the back-yard fence in the bright moonlight.

Said Tommy Kat as he looked at a star: “I don’t want to marry your pa. Now why do you keep me here a-guessing when we might go round and get pa’s blessing?”

Miss Tabby stretched and heaved a sigh, then on Tommy Kat she cast her eye. He was handsomer, far, than all the rest, and she felt quite sure she loved him best. But, like all others of her kind, she pretended to make up her mind.

But Tommy Kat was a hasty fellow. He knew present time was always mellow; so he told Miss Tabby ’twas getting late, and whisked her over the back-yard gate. And before she knew where she was at they stood at the door of Minister Cat.

In a minute more they came out married, for Minister Cat he never tarried. He married off couples quick as scat, and for his fee he took a rat.

The reception they held was a howling success, as all who came to it had to confess. And all the way through Catville Town bottles and shoes were strewn up and down. And when Old Sun Man o’er the hill did peep every kit in the town was fast asleep.

HOW THE ELEPHANT GOT HIS TRUNK

One night in the Zoo when the keepers were asleep the other animals were awakened by the chattering in the monkey cage.

“I have heard that Mr. Lion can be made very tame,” said Jocko, “and while I doubt very much if he really can bite, his growl is most unpleasant to hear.”

“Oh, well, it may be worse than his bite,” said Tito. “Those who make the most noise are not always to be feared, I have been told.”

“There is Hippo; he is much bigger than Mr. Lion, and he doesn’t make as much noise all the time as Mr. Lion.”

“Oh, dear me, but what a big mouth Hippo has!” laughed Tito. “I wonder how he happened to get such a big one. He must have been the first one there when they gave out mouths.”

“I have heard something about almost every animal here,” said Jocko. “Want to hear it?”

“Yes, tell me,” said Tito, moving close to Jocko. “Where did Mr. Lion get his long hair?”

“Oh dear! don’t you know?” laughed Jocko, “Mrs. Lion pulled it so much it made it long. She hasn’t any, you see. Oh dear, yes, Mr. Lion is a henpecked husband if ever there was one.”

“You don’t tell me so,” said Tito. “What about Hippo? How did it happen he is so big and clumsy?”

“Oh, don’t you know?” said Jocko. “When the animals were being made there was a lot of each animal left and it was all stirred together, and that made Hippo. They made his body first and then they did not have enough to give him a long tail or fill in his mouth. That is the reason it is so large.”

“Ho, ho, ho!” laughed Tito, and Jocko laughed, too, until they nearly fell off the place where they were sitting.

“Where did old Reynard get his bushy tail, Jocko?”

“Oh, don’t you know that either?” replied Jocko. “He was caught trying to steal chickens by the farmer’s wife, and she threw the brush she was using at him with such force that it struck him handle first, and there it stuck right on his back, and he never could be rid of it.”

“Ho, ho, ho!” laughed Tito. “And where did the giraffe get his long neck?”

“Oh, that is easy,” said Jocko. “He was so big-feeling and so haughty he would not look at the other animals, and it stretched his neck until now he can’t see the ground, so I have been told. I don’t know, of course.”

“He has a very little head, anyway,” said Tito.

“There is very little in it, my dear Tito,” said Jocko. And then they both laughed again.

One by one the animals had awakened, but, hearing what was being said, they each hoped to hear something about the other that would offset the fun Jocko was making of them, so they kept still.

“Where did the elephant get his trunk? That is what I should most like to hear about,” said Tito.

“Well, that is a long story,” said Jocko. “It seems that it really was only a nose to begin with, and not much of a nose at that, so I have heard it said, but because he was so big he thought he was the boss of the jungle, where he lived, and he went about poking his nose into every place he could find to see what was going on. They used to call him Old Nosey, I have been told, and he had such big ears that what he did not see he heard, so every one disliked him, but it took Old Man Crocodile to cure him of his bad habit.”

“What did he do to Mr. Elephant?” asked Tito, excitedly.

“I’ll tell you,” said Jocko. “One day Mr. Elephant was walking by the water when he saw something queer-looking sticking out of the water.

“Mr. Elephant had to know what it was, so he poked it with his nose, and, zip! it had him right by the nose, and held him, too.

“My, how he did yell, I was told, but Old Man Crocodile would not let go. He held right on tight.

“Mr. Elephant pulled and cried, ‘Let go!’ and the harder he pulled the harder Old Man Crocodile pulled, until Mr. Elephant had that nose you see on him now called a trunk.

“By and by Old Man Crocodile had to catch his breath, and he let go, and down sat Mr. Elephant on the ground with a bang.

“Old Man Crocodile began to cry and say how sorry he was that he had grabbled Mr. Elephant--that he had no idea he was hurting a friend. He thought it was a hunter, and would Mr. Elephant please forgive him this once!--he would never do it again.”

“Is there where Old Man Crocodile got his tears?” asked Tito.

“That is how he began to cry,” said Jocko.

“Ho, ho, ho!” they both laughed, and then a terrible roar and trumpeting and all sorts of cries went up from the animals, for Mr. Elephant could not keep quiet when he heard what Jocko said about his trunk.

When Mr. Elephant began to trumpet Mr. Lion began to roar, and Jocko and Tito fled to the back of their cage and huddled together, trembling with fright.

“They can’t get us,” said Jocko. “Let them talk and scream. I guess we woke them up talking and laughing.”

The other animals made such a noise that the keepers came running to see what had happened, but, of course, they did not understand a thing they told them about the awful stories Jocko had told about them, and so all they could do was to give them a drink of water or a biscuit, hoping they would be quiet.

Far into the morning the animals scolded and told Jocko what they thought of him, but Tito and Jocko fell asleep in spite of the noise and Tito laughed in his dreams about the funny things Jocko had told him.

WHY RABBITS HAVE SHORT TAILS

Bunny Rabbit was sitting in his yard one day, thinking very hard, when his grandfather came along.

“Why are you so quiet and sober, grandson?” he inquired.

“I am wondering, grandfather,” said Bunny, “why we have such long ears and so short a tail. I should think it would be much better if it were just the other way about.”

“Of course; of course,” said Grandfather Rabbit, bobbing his ears back and forth. “We all think we could have made a better rabbit if we had been consulted. But let me tell you why your tail is short and your ears are long, and then you will learn you are better off now than was your great-grandfather’s great-grandfather, who had a long tail and short ears.”

It did not take Bunny Rabbit long to find a nice soft seat for his grandfather and to sit close and very still, with his ears sticking up to listen, for he dearly loved the stories his grandfather told.

“Once upon a time,” began Grandfather Rabbit, just as all grandfathers begin a story--“a long, long time ago there lived in some woods a rabbit. He had a long tail and short ears, just as all the rabbits in those days had.

“One day he ran over the hill to the garden where Mr. Man lived. He should have been very careful, but he wasn’t, and when he was crawling under the rail fence around the garden didn’t Mr. Dog see him and begin to bark and chase Short Ears, as he was called.

“Short Ears was a good runner, and it was lucky he was or there would be an end to this story right here. Through the garden he ran under cover of the vegetable leaves, and when he got out he was a good bit ahead of Mr. Dog.

“Over the field they ran, and under the stone wall went Short Ears and over it went Mr. Dog. Down the road they ran lickety split, and into his house ran Short Ears just as Mr. Dog came into the yard.

“Short Ears had no time to lose, I can tell you. He slammed the door, and what do you suppose happened?”

Bunny Rabbit was so interested in his grandfather’s story he only started; he did not answer at all. So his grandfather went on.

“Why, Short Ears slammed that door right on his long tail, and there he was held fast, with his tail hanging outside.”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” cried Bunny Rabbit, feeling of his stubby little tail, to be sure it was safe behind him.

“What did poor Short Ears do then?” he asked.

“He could not do a thing, for there was Mr. Dog right in the yard and running straight for the door,” said Grandfather Rabbit.

Bunny Rabbit sat closer to his grandfather and his ears grew longer as he listened.

“Yes,” said Grandfather Rabbit, “Short Ears was in a bad fix, as you can see. He could not open the door to get his tail out, because Mr. Dog would come in and catch him.

“He did not have long to think about it, for the very next thing he knew Mr. Dog grabbed at his tail and off it came right up to the door. And off he ran. For, you see, he thought he had Short Ears on the end of the tail, and he did not stop to look. He just ran.

“When his tail broke off, over went Short Ears on the floor, for that set him free. ‘Oh dear! Oh dear! What shall I do?’ he cried, when he jumped up and looked in the mirror and saw that his long tail was gone and all that remained was a little stubby tail, just like yours.

“First he ran to the medicine-closet and got some salve and a soft piece of cloth. But he found he could not reach the end of his tail--it was too short.

“His first thought was to run over to his cousin Rabbit’s house, not far-off, but when he started toward the door he remembered Mr. Dog.

“Short Ears leaned his head to the crack in the door and listened hard. His ears were short, you remember, but not so short but that he heard Mr. Dog barking.

“Nearer and nearer came the bark. Short Ears locked the door and ran to the windows and fastened them and drew the shades, and then he ran into the closet and closed the door.

“Away back he crept under his Sunday clothes, where he was sure no one would find him, and there he sat and listened and listened and listened.

“Mr. Dog barked and jumped about outside the house, for he was very much upset when he found that he did not have Short Ears on the end of the tail he carried off.

“But it was no use. He could not get into Short Ears’s house, and at last he gave it up and ran off home, barking all the way.

“Short Ears listened, and though Mr. Dog’s tones grew fainter and fainter, Short Ears was surprised to find he could hear the barking, though it was a long way off.

“After it was dark he came out of the closet and crept into his bed without even thinking of the end of his tail, he was so tired and worn out listening.

“And now what do you think had happened to him, and what do you think he saw when he looked in the mirror in the morning to brush his hair?”

Bunny Rabbit shook his head. “I don’t know, grandfather,” he said. “What had happened to Short Ears?”

“His ears had grown long, he had listened so hard to the barking of Mr. Dog,” said Grandfather Rabbit. “And from that day all the Rabbit family have had short tails and long ears, which is just as it should be, for we can hear Mr. Dog a long way off, and we do not have the bother of looking after a long tail when we run to cover. So don’t wish to have yours changed again, for you see now that you are better off than poor Short Ears was, don’t you?”

Bunny Rabbit said he did, and that he should never wish for a long tail and short ears again. And he didn’t.

THE HUNTER’S FRIEND, JOHNNIE BEAR

In a hut on the side of a mountain lived an old hunter all alone. He had only one room, which was very scantily furnished, and he cooked his meals in a fireplace. In the fireplace was a big hook where he hung his kettle, and he cooked his meat by holding it between two sticks over the coals.

You need not pity this old man, for he would rather eat his food cooked in this way than in any other. He had a bunk built in the room about half-way up the wall, where he had to climb a ladder to reach it, and when he went to bed he covered himself with a big bearskin. Beside the bunk a gun hung on the wall where he could quickly reach it if it were needed. Across the door at night he fastened a big bar, for he did not intend that any one should enter while he was asleep.

The old hunter had set a trap by his door, and one morning he found a baby bear caught in it by the left hind paw. He very carefully opened the trap and took the little fellow out. Then he took Johnnie Bear, as he named him, into his cabin and very carefully washed the poor cut foot and bound it up with some healing salve.

Johnnie Bear seemed to know that the hunter was helping him, and he did not bite or try to get away. He made a funny little noise like a baby when it is hurt. Then the hunter warmed some milk and put it in a bottle, which he gave to the bear. Johnnie Bear took the bottle in both his paws and held it to his mouth and drank the milk very greedily. Then the hunter fixed a bed for him and put a log on the fire to keep the place warm while he went for a hunting trip.

Johnnie Bear slept all day, and when the hunter returned at night he tried to run to meet him, but his poor foot hurt him so he had to lie down again. Several weeks passed before Johnnie Bear’s foot became quite well, and he always limped, because the trap had cut so deep.

The little fellow became very fond of the hunter and would run to meet him at night, and when the hunter brought in his game Johnnie Bear would poke it over with his nose and paw, as though to tell the hunter that he had done well.

One day he did not run to meet the hunter, and when night came he did not come to his supper. The old hunter began looking around the cabin and he found the footprints of two bears. One was Johnnie Bear’s, which he could tell by the light mark which the lame foot made, and the other was of a big bear, which had enticed Johnnie back into the woods. The hunter felt very lonely and looked for Johnnie every day for a long time, but after a year had gone by he gave up all hope of ever seeing Johnnie again.

A long time after this the hunter was going through a part of the wood that was filled with bushes and vines and in some way his foot became entangled and he fell, breaking his arm. His gun fell some distance from him, and as he went to pick it up he saw a big mother bear with two cubs coming toward him. She was growling and showing her teeth and the hunter felt that he had little chance for escape from a fight, and with his right arm broken he wondered how the fight might come out.

He braced himself against a tree and waited for the bear to come up. He held his gun in his left hand, intending to use it to beat her off as long as possible. Just then another bear came in sight and the poor hunter gave up all hope. But all at once the first bear stopped and looked at the other bear, then suddenly walked toward him. Both stood and looked at the hunter, who did not move. Suddenly the second bear growled strangely and the first bear walked away with the two cubs. Then the second bear came nearer, and as he walked the hunter saw that he limped. It was Johnnie Bear, and in some unknown tongue he had sent the other bear away and saved the hunter’s life. He did not come any nearer the hunter, but only looked at him, as though to say, “You saved my life once, now I have paid my debt to you.” Then he limped away in the direction the other bears had gone. Perhaps the mother bear was Johnnie’s wife and the cubs were their children.

Who can tell?

PLAID TROUSERS

Mr. Tim Coon had a pair of red-and-green plaid trousers and that was what made everybody in the woods envious.

But there was one who not only was envious--he was very jealous of his rights--and that one was Mr. Fox.

For Mr. Fox thought, and so did every one else in the woods, that he was the very smartest and nattiest fellow around until Tim Coon came along with those red-and-green plaid trousers.

Mr. Fox at first did not bother much about the trousers, for he felt sure that in a short time he could persuade Tim Coon to part with them, but here he was mistaken, as time proved.

Mr. Fox had called on Tim every day. He had carried the fattest hen or duck, and even two fat chickens, and each time he hinted that he might part with each or any of them if he were offered the right thing.

But Tim Coon was well supplied with the season’s good things to eat and would not offer anything worth having.

And that was the reason that Mr. Fox sat on his steps one morning in deep thought while he smoked his old corncob pipe.

While he was thinking his eyes happened to alight upon a piece of paper on which there was some printing, and then he saw the word WOOL in big letters.

“Wool?” thought Mr. Fox; “that is what those red-and-green trousers are; all wool, Tim Coon says.”

Mr. Fox got up from the steps and picked up the paper. He began to read, and as he read his eyes grew big. The more he read the bigger they grew, and at last he became so interested he dropped his pipe from his mouth without noticing it.

Mr. Fox read all the printing. Then he crumpled up the paper and threw it into the bushes.

“If he only would get them soiled,” he said, “the rest would be easy; he would be sure to ask my advice.

“I know what I will do,” he said, starting for his barn. “I’ll paint the seat of my rocking-chair; he loves to sit in that.”

Pretty soon Mr. Fox had his rocking-chair painted a nice shiny black, and then he sat down to watch for Tim Coon, who always passed by about that time. He did not have to wait long before Tim came along, wearing the plaid trousers. “Come in, Tim, and have a smoke,” said Mr. Fox, in his most polite manner.

Mr. Fox went to the closet to get a pipe for Tim, and, just as he expected, down sat Tim Coon in the rocking-chair right on the wet paint.

“Oh dear, oh dear, how sorry I am!” said Mr. Fox, hurrying to Tim.

“Get up quick, Tim! I just painted that chair. I hope you have not got it on your plaid trousers.”

Mr. Fox’s eyes twinkled as he got behind poor Tim to look at the seat of his trousers, but that, of course, Tim Coon did not see, and when Mr. Fox told him there was a big black spot, but that he felt sure he could tell him just how to get it out, Tim thought he was a very kind fellow.

“Don’t you bother at all, Tim. I read the other day just how to wash woolen garments. It said it was sure and safe, so I will help you, for I really feel to blame; I ought to have remembered that rocker was freshly painted.

“First, I must get you some white soap, and as I have none in the house I shall have to run over to Mr. Man’s and get some; he has everything in his house.”

Tim Coon thought Mr. Fox was the very kindest fellow he knew, and he ran right home to take off the trousers and wait for Mr. Fox to return.

“Oh, you might put on a kettle of water,” called Mr. Fox as Tim was hurrying away, “and have it boiling; it must boil hard.”

Mr. Fox had a harder time than he expected getting the soap from Mr. Man’s, for Mr. Dog had gone to sleep right in the doorway of the barn, and that was where Mr. Fox wanted to go.

He had seen a piece of white soap on a box in the barn one day, where Mr. Man had been washing his best harness, and he hoped very much he would find it there now.

After a while Mr. Dog awoke and went away and Mr. Fox crept in. He was lucky enough to find the soap, and off he ran for Tim Coon’s house just as the sun was going down.

“I risked a good deal, Tim, to get this soap,” he said. “I do not like to go over the hill in the daytime--too risky.

“Now we must put the trousers in a pail,” explained Mr. Fox, “and then very slowly pour the water on them. Are you sure the water is boiling hard?”

Tim said he was, and so Mr. Fox told him to bring it along, and as Tim poured it in the pail Mr. Fox shaved up the soap and dropped it in.

“Now get me a stick,” he said, “so I can stir it and make a good suds, and now I will leave you, for I am sure you can do the rest, and I must get home, as it is getting dark.

“All you have to do is to let them soak overnight and take them out in the morning and hang them in the sun, and if that recipe for washing woolen is good for anything your trousers will be as good as new.”

Off ran Mr. Fox for home, chuckling to himself all the way. “Yes, they will be as good as new,” he said, “but not for you to wear, my friend Tim. They may fit a very young coon, but not a full-grown-up coon like you. Oh no.”

Poor Tim Coon viewed his trousers as they hung on the line the next day with a sinking heart, for the black stain of the paint was of course still to be seen, but later when they were dry and he tried to put them on it was not a feeling of sadness which came over him. It was anger.

Tim looked at himself in the looking-glass and saw that his handsome plaid trousers were no longer fit for him to wear. They were well up to his knees, and so snugly did they fit him he could not bend, let alone walk.

It took some time to get out of them, but when he did he took them over to Mr. Fox’s house and showed him the remains of what had once been his plaid trousers.

“It did not work right. That is all I can say,” said Mr. Fox, trying hard to look sad. “You never can tell about those recipes you read in papers and magazines until you have tried them.”

“I wish some one else had tried it first,” said Tim, with a sigh, as he looked at his trousers.

“I might have worn a long-tailed coat and covered up the paint spot, but there is nothing I can do with these short legs.”

“You could wear a skirt or put some lace on the bottom of the legs,” suggested Mr. Fox.

“Are you sure the water had to boil?” asked Tim.

“Sure as I am that the sun will shine!” replied Mr. Fox. “Are you sure, Tim, those trousers are all wool?”

“I thought they were,” said Tim.

“I know they are,” said Mr. Fox, looking after Tim down the path.

Of course the plaid trousers were of no use to any one, but Mr. Fox was satisfied so long as he did not have to see Tim Coon wearing them.

THE THREE RUNAWAYS

Mr. Dog sat in front of his house, looking very sad; Mr. Tom Cat came along with his head hanging down, very sad, too.

“Hello, Tommie!” said Mr. Dog. “You look as sad as I feel. What is the matter?”

“Matter enough, Mr. Dog,” said Mr. Tom Cat. “I have just been driven out of the house with a broom by cook, who says I am of no use; that I am too fat and too well fed to catch the mice.

“Mr. Dog, I have caught all the mice in that house for years, and just because I slept one night--that was last night--that cook forgets all about all the good work I have done in the past and puts me out, and with a broom, too. Oh, it is too terrible, and I have not had my breakfast, either.”

“Tommie, dear fellow,” said Mr. Dog, “you certainly have a hard time of it, but let me tell you what has happened to me after all my years of service to the master. Last night a fox got into the hen-house, and just because I did not keep awake all night and catch him the master took me up to the hen-house and put my nose right down on the floor where that fox had walked, and then he boxed my ears. Think of it, Thomas, he boxed my ears before all the hens and chickens and said I was getting old and good for nothing, and I have not had a bite to eat this morning. I wonder what this place is coming to when such good fellows as we are get such treatment. That is what I would like to know, Thomas Cat.”

Mr. Tom Cat licked his mouth and stretched himself before he answered: “I think, Mr. Dog, we better give the master and cook a chance to think over what they have done to us and perhaps they may remember all the good things we have done all these years and think that one little mistake was not so bad, after all. I am for running away, I am. What do you say?”

“Now I never thought of that, Thomas,” said Mr. Dog, standing up and looking very serious. “I believe that is a good plan, Thomas. I do, indeed; but where shall we run?”

“Oh, we can walk; you know we don’t have to run at all, only they call it running away if you go off where people can’t find you,” said Mr. Tom Cat. “I know a place we can go. Come with me.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Mr. Dog. “Lead the way, Thomas.”

Just as they were passing the barn-yard they saw Mr. Rooster scrooged under the fence.

“Hello, Mr. Rooster!” said Mr. Dog. “What has happened to you that you look so unhappy this morning?”

“Why wouldn’t I look unhappy?” replied Mr. Rooster. “Here I have been on this farm and looking after all those silly hens these long years, and this morning the master said he wished the fox had got me last night instead of the hen he carried off. I tell you it is hard luck, after all I have done for the master.”

“Come with us,” said Mr. Tom Cat. “We are running away; the cook chased me out this morning because I happened to sleep all night and didn’t catch the mice, and Mr. Dog was blamed because the fox got into your house last night. We are not appreciated around here, that is plain. Will you come along?”

“I had never thought of running away,” said Mr. Rooster, getting out from under the fence and flapping the dust from his wings, “but I think I like the idea of running away. I will go along with you. Perhaps the master and those foolish hens of mine will begin to think what a fine fellow I am and wish I had not gone. Where are you going?”

“Oh, to a place I know where no one will find us,” said Mr. Tom Cat, running ahead.

Mr. Dog and Mr. Rooster followed Mr. Tom Cat, and soon they were in the woods where the bushes grew thick and the trees shut out the sun.

“Here we are,” said Mr. Tom Cat; “now no one will find us and we can rest in ease.”

“I have not had my breakfast,” said Mr. Rooster, scratching the ground.

“Neither have we,” said Mr. Tom Cat, “but I have heard somewhere that you should not think of your troubles and they will not bother you, so suppose we each tell a story to take up the time and also take our minds off the thought that we have not had our breakfast. You begin, Mr. Dog, because you are such a good story-teller and have had so many adventures.”

Mr. Dog looked very wise and scratched his head as if he was thinking very hard.

“Did I ever tell you about how I treed a coon?” he asked.

Mr. Rooster and Mr. Tom Cat said they never had heard it, but they should like to hear about it very much indeed.

MR. DOG’S STORY

Mr. Dog cleared his throat and then he said: “I have always had the reputation of being a good hunter, especially when coons were in season, but this story which I am about to tell will show that I had the hardest time a dog ever had getting a coon.

“One moonlight night the master came out of the house and whistled to me; he had his gun over his shoulder and I knew pretty well what was going to happen; we were going coon-hunting.

“So I wagged my tail and gave two or three sharp barks because I knew I could not bark again until I had something to bark about.

“Oh, it was a beautiful night, and just as we got out in the road a little way from the barn I saw something moving. I wasn’t sure at first whether it was a fox or a coon, both of them being equally fond of visiting the poultry-yard; but I kept very still and pretty soon I saw him right in the full moonlight. It was as fat a coon as I ever saw, and he didn’t see me and I made a run for him.

“Well, you may have seen a coon run, my friends, but believe me when I tell you that you never saw one run as this one did. He gave a bound and away he went, and I went after him, and Mr. Man followed, for I was barking now, for there was reason for it.

“Well, that coon got to the tree first, and up he went, for I saw him, and I can tell you I was some tickled, for I knew that the master would be pleased enough when he saw the size of that coon.

“After he got into the tree I stood under it and looked up and barked with all my might, and Mr. Man was coming a-running as fast as he could in the distance.

“But while I saw that coon go up the tree as plainly as I ever saw anything, I couldn’t see hide nor hair of him when I looked up.

“Mr. Man came up to me after a while and said, ‘Where is he, Rover?’

“I kept looking up in the tree and barking to keep up my courage, though I could see nothing but tree.

“‘You are fooled, old fellow,’ said the master; ‘he got away from you. Go after him, old boy.’

“But I knew I wasn’t fooled, though for the life of me I could not see that coon.

“I kept on barking and jumping about and the master took another look, but he did not see that coon and pretty soon he got tired.

“‘You are a fake, Rover,’ he said to me. ‘I am going home. We will try it another night and see if you can see straight.’ And off he went.

“But I didn’t leave that tree. I knew that coon couldn’t have jumped out of the tree and I also knew he went up the tree, so I was sure he was in the tree right then.

“I barked louder than ever, and though the master whistled and called, I still barked and jumped about.

“Suddenly I thought if I kept very still a minute that coon might show his head, so I stepped close to the tree and stood in the shadow and kept quiet. It wasn’t more than a minute before, just as I thought, out poked the head of that coon to see if I had gone.

“Well, I just barked some then and I danced, and pretty soon master came running back and I jumped and barked right under the place where I had seen the head of Mr. Coon.

“‘Ah, you are right, boy,’ I heard the master say, softly, and then bang went his gun and Mr. Coon dropped to the ground.

“‘Good old boy, you can’t be fooled, can you, Rover?’ said master, patting me on the head; ‘you can’t be beat for coon-hunting. Come along home and show what we got.’

“The next night they had a great time at the master’s house. He told them all how I treed that coon and how I stuck to it in spite of his going away and calling to me to go along.

“I was patted on the head and made a great deal of, and every time I see the master with that coon cap he wears I feel very happy.”

Mr. Dog stopped and looked sad again, and Mr. Tom Cat said: “Oh, cheer up, Mr. Dog, the master will soon be wearing that cap again, and he will remember how you caught the coon. That is a good story to tell. Now we will listen to what Mr. Rooster has to tell us.”

Mr. Rooster said he would tell them about the new rooster that came to the barn-yard one day.

MR. ROOSTER’S STORY

Mr. Rooster straightened himself and said he was proud to say he was raised on the master’s farm. He was proud, too, to say he had succeeded the old rooster that had gone to a dinner one day and did not return.

“I have always taken good care of my family, and, if I do say it, there is not a better-looking family than mine around these parts,” said Mr. Rooster.

“There have been many young roosters in the barn-yard, but they have gone away to other farms to live, for the master has an eye for beauty, and he has always decided that I was too--er--valuable to lose.”

Mr. Dog and Mr. Tom Cat smiled a little on the side at this last remark, for they well knew how vain Mr. Rooster was, and then he really did have fine feathers and a beautiful comb.

“I have never had any trouble with my family until one morning Madam Blackie came running to me,” continued Mr. Rooster, “to tell me a new rooster had come in the barn-yard to live.”

“‘It is shameful the way all those silly hens are running around him,’ she said. ‘He isn’t noticing them a little bit and they strut back and forth, eying him as if they had never seen a handsome rooster before.

“‘For my part, I think the old friends are the best, though of course you are not old, my dear Mr. Rooster, only old in acquaintance I mean.’

“I had always thought Madam Blackie an old busybody, but now, if this was all true, I had found her my only friend.

“‘You are most kind, Madam Blackie,’ I said, ‘and I thank you, but I feel sure that the master will not have a new rooster here. This new-comer will probably leave in a few days.’

“I expected he would, too, for I had as fine a set of spurs as I had ever seen, and I intended to show them to this new rooster.

“As soon as I could get away from Madam Blackie I took a stroll around by the barn-yard, and sure enough there were all my family, even the chickens, walking around and clucking and cackling as hens will at a handsome red-and-black rooster that stood by the barn door.

“I felt pretty queer for a minute, for that new rooster had a very shiny-looking set of feathers, and I knew he would be very popular for a while at least, and with the whole family against me, even my spurs might not make me king.

“I held my head very high, and with my light step I walked past them some distance from the barn, but still I knew they all saw me.

“There was a little flutter at first, and they ran toward me, but they gave a look at the new rooster. I could see them out of the corner of my eyes, and back the whole silly lot went and began their silly cackling and clucking.

“I went behind a wall and watched them through a hole. First they would scratch the ground near the new rooster and talk away to one another, and then they would walk by him, but not once did he turn his head.

“‘He isn’t going to let them think he sees them,’ I thought; but the longer I watched the stranger it seemed to me that with all those fine-looking hens and chickens cackling about him he should not look once their way; and then a thought came to me which made me jump up, so I crawled under the gate and walked into the barn-yard.

“I walked right up to that family of mine and looked at them, and then I looked at the new rooster. I was right close to him then.

“Every hen opened her eyes and mouth, for they thought right then and there was to be a settlement of rights, but one glance at the new rooster told me what I had thought was true, and I just turned my back on him and said: ‘When you silly hens and chickens get tired of admiring the new weather-cock you better come over in the lot back of the barn. There is some corn and grain on the ground. I am surprised that my family cannot tell a tin weather-cock from a real rooster,’ and away I walked with my head held higher than ever.

“After that I never had the least trouble with them, but of course I found out that Madam Blackie had been the first one to see the tin rooster and had gone right up to him and found it out, and then waited to see if the others would be fooled. When she found they were she ran away to tell me.

“Oh, it takes all kinds of hens to make a barn-yard family!” sighed the rooster.

“I guess they will miss you,” said Mr. Dog, “and the master will, too, for all the hens are likely to run away, with no one to keep them at home.”

“Tommie Cat, we will hear what you have to tell. I bet it will be about a mouse.”

“You win the bet,” said Mr. Tom Cat.

MR. TOM CAT’S STORY

“My story,” said Mr. Tom Cat, “is about a mouse, the only mouse that ever got away from me--that is, the only one that I ever saw. Of course, I did not see the ones that cook thought I should have caught.

“I came to live at the master’s house when I was a very little kitten, and right away I began to catch the mice.

“I have heard it said that my mother and father were the best mousers anywhere around, and I expect I take after them. Anyway, I could catch mice, so I became a great pet in the house.

“And while I always had plenty of milk--and sometimes cream--to eat, I never failed to catch a mouse each night, and sometimes more, for a cat had not lived in the house for years, and those mice thought they owned it until I came.

“They ran about everywhere, on the pantry shelves and all over the rooms at night, and they would even run over me sometimes when I was taking forty winks; but I soon stopped that. I played I was asleep when I wasn’t and caught those silly mice until the others began to learn that I was a thing to be feared and not to be taken as a joke.

“But there was one mouse I could not catch. He was larger than the others and had a little piece taken out of one ear, so I always knew him, and it gave me no end of worry to think he always escaped me.

“The others called him Tip, because it was the tip of his ear that was gone; and Tip was some runner, I can tell you. He could get through the smallest hole in the wall and he could get away from you when you had your paw right over him. I made up my mind to get Tip if I had to let the other mice have the house, and so for a week I laid for Tip.

“One night he came out of his hole and jumped right over my head and I chased him around the kitchen, when all at once right before my eyes he disappeared.

“I sniffed and hunted. I knew he was there, but I could not see him or find him. All at once I saw a shoe of the master’s, that stood near the stove, move, and as quick as a wink I flew at it and put in my paw.

“Did I get Tip? No, sir; that slick little fellow crawled out of a hole in the side of that shoe and ran for his hole in the wall, laughing and giggling to think he had fooled me again.