Little Jack Rabbit and the Squirrel Brothers, page 4
“What are you doing out here?”
“Looking for mice,” answered the little black pussy.
“Don’t you bother Timmy Meadowmouse,” said Little Jack Rabbit quickly; “he’s a friend of mine.”
And then, what do you suppose happened? Why, the Farmer’s dog came by, and away went the little rabbit, and up went Miss Pussy Cat’s back, and her tail grew so big that had she tried to get back into the hollow stump I guess she would have had to leave her tail behind her! But she didn’t. No sireemam. She just humped her back and meowed, and the Farmer’s dog kept right on after Little Jack Rabbit, but of course he never caught him.
Well, as soon as the little bunny was safe in the Shady Forest, he looked about him, and pretty soon, not so very long, he saw Professor Jim Crow with his little Black Book under his wing.
“Read me something, won’t you please,” begged the little rabbit. So the old professor bird took out his book and turned over the pages until he came to “The early worm must look out for the bird.”
“Ha, ha,” laughed the little rabbit. “I must tell that to mother. She always tells it the other way ’round.” Then off he hopped, and the old black bird flew away to his tree in Kalamazoo. For that was the name of the little village where Professor Crow has his home, and where he taught in the grammar school arithmetic and the Golden Rule, and sometimes Latin and sometimes Greek, and anything else that a bird can speak. Goodness me, if my typewriter hasn’t made up this poetry all by itself. I wonder where it went to school.
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A BUSY BEAVER
“Bunny Boy!” called Little Jack Rabbit’s mother, oh, so early, as Mr. Merry Sun climbed up the blue gray sky of the early morning, “Get up, little bunny!”
So the little rabbit hopped out of bed; and after he had combed his hair with a little chip, he ran downstairs to ask his mother about the early worm Professor Jim Crow had mentioned in the last story. After breakfast he hopped out on the Sunny Meadow and looked about him. Mr. Merry Sun was shining down on the frosty dew and Billy Breeze was very chilly, and the meadow grass brown and withered. It didn’t look at all like the lovely Sunny Meadow.
“Oh, dear,” sighed the little rabbit, “all the flowers are gone, and most of the birds have flown to the sunny South.” Just then Professor Jim Crow flew by with his little Black Book under his wing:
“Helloa, there, little bunny, how are you this chilly day?” And then that old crow began to read out of his little book:
“Little rabbit’s coat of brown
Soon will turn to white.
Then among the snowy drifts
He can hide from sight.
“You see how Mother Nature looks after you,” said that wise old blackbird. “In the summer your coat is brown like the dry grass and brambles. But when winter comes it turns white so that you won’t be seen so well against the snow.”
Then away flew Professor Jim Crow to read his little Black Book to somebody else, and the little rabbit hopped along and by and by he came to the Bubbling Brook where the speckled trout swam in and out among the rocks and the little fresh water crabs played in the quiet pools. All of a sudden down fell a tree.
“There,” said Busy Beaver, “I’ll now have some logs to make a dam.”
“Why do you want a dam? Do you want to spoil the Bubbling Brook?”
“It won’t spoil the brook,” answered the little beaver. “It will only make it deep so that when I build my house for the winter my front door won’t freeze up tight.”
“Oh, I see,” said Little Jack Rabbit, and he wiggled his little pink nose sideways. “And how soon will you have it finished?”
“Oh, long before Old Mr. North Wind brings the snow,” answered Busy Beaver.
Old Mr. North Wind
On his Snow Horse,
Swiftly is riding
Down the golf course,
Over the meadow
And up the steep hill,
Shouting so hoarsely;
“Gid ap, there, Bill!”
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DON’T WORRY
In the last story Little Jack Rabbit, of Old Bramble Patch, U. S. A., was talking to Busy Beaver, who was making a dam across the Bubbling Brook, you remember, to keep the water from freezing up his front door in the cold winter time.
“Every one is getting ready for the cold weather. It won’t be long before my dam is finished and then I’ll set to work and make my house of mud and sticks,” and Busy Beaver jumped into the water with a flap of his broad tail and disappeared. So the little rabbit hopped along, and by and by he came to the cave where the Big Brown Bear made his home.
“Helloa!” said Little Jack Rabbit, as the Big Brown Bear looked out of his front door. “Winter time will soon be here.”
“Oh, that doesn’t worry me,” said the Big Brown Bear.
“But what will you eat?” asked the little rabbit.
“When you’re asleep you don’t feel hungry. On a warm sunny day I may come out for a little while and find something to eat. I don’t worry.”
Worry never makes you fat,
Instead, it makes you lean.
Never worry for a minute,—
Worry has the devil in it,—
Keep your mind serene.
And if you don’t know what “serene” means, take your father’s dictionary and look up, for the more words you know the wiser you’ll grow.
“Well, I don’t have to worry about the cold weather,” laughed the little rabbit. “Mother Nature will give me a new white fur overcoat, and the Old Bramble Patch will keep the wind away, and the cabbage leaves which mother and I have stored away will last all winter.” And then away he went to see more of his friends in the Shady Forest.
Well, by and by, after a while, he heard the honk of an automobile horn. “I wonder whether that’s Uncle John,” and Little Jack Rabbit stopped and looked all around, and pretty soon, not very long, Mr. John Hare drove by in his Bunnymobile. He looked very fine in his polkadot handkerchief and gold watch and chain and a great big immense diamond horseshoe pin in his pink cravat. Oh, my, yes! Uncle John was quite a dandy. He was the best dressed Hare in Harebridge, and why shouldn’t he be when you consider he was President of the bank and the Harum Scarum Club!
“Helloa, there, little nephew,” he shouted.
“Hop in and take a ride with me,
We’ll take a spin for a mile or three,
And maybe we’ll come where the lollypops grow,
Pink and yellow, all in a row.”
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THE LITTLE FROSTY PAINTER
There’s a little frosty painter
Who soon will come around
To put a silver edging on
The grasses on the ground,
Upon the window pane he’ll paint
A fairy landscape, strange and quaint,
And some cold morning you’ll awake
To find he’s frosted Mother’s cake.
Now can you guess who this little frosty painter is? Why, it’s Jack Frost, the son of King Winter.
“Ha, ha,” crowed the Weathercock on the Big Red Barn. “Jack Frost is here, for I can see the silver frost upon the grass in the Sunny Meadow,” and then that gilded rooster turned his head to the North and blew on his gilt toes to keep them warm.
Pretty soon Old Sic’em walked out of his little dog house and shook himself. “Bow wow,” he said, “it’s a chilly morning.”
“Cock-a-doodle-do,” said Cocky Doodle, and then Henny Penny cackled loudly:
“I’ve laid an egg so white and clean
’Twould grace a breakfast for a queen.
But if a little girl should beg
The farmer for my pretty egg,
I’d tell him quick to let her go
And take my egg as white as snow.”
As the little hen finished her song, she noticed Little Jack Rabbit by the Old Rail Fence.
“Helloa, Mrs. Henny Penny,” he said. “I like your song. If I see any poor little girl I’ll tell her!” and then the little rabbit hopped away, for he just couldn’t stay a moment in one place, let me tell you. He wanted to be on the hop, skip and jump all the time, just like lots of little boys and girls I know.
Well, by and by, after a while, he saw Old Professor Jim Crow scratching his head with his claw.
“What’s the matter?” asked the little rabbit.
“I can’t make out something I’ve written in my little Black Book,” answered the old black bird, and he scratched his head again and looked dreadfully perplexed, which means worse than worried, you know.
“Let me look,” said Little Jack Rabbit. And when the old blackbird had flown down from his pine tree, the little bunny leaned over his shoulder, and read: “Oh, oh, oh, Squirreltown!”
“Why, that’s the Squirrel Brothers telephone number,” he laughed. “So it is,” said Professor Jim Crow. “I’m so glad you told me! Let’s call them up!”
“‘One, three, five, Chestnut Hill!’
Keep on ringing, Central, till
Some one answers, ‘Hello! who
Is calling up my Bungaloo!’
“But if no one says a word;
Not a twitter from a bird,
Nor a chatter comes your way,
Call again another day.”
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* * *
GRANDPA POSSUM
But! gracious me! Central gave Little Jack Rabbit the wrong number, for as he stood in the Hollow Stump Telephone Booth, with the receiver to his ear, he heard Grandpa Possum say:
“I don’t care how hard it snows,
Nor how Old Mr. North Wind blows,
For I’m as safe as safe can be
In a big warm hole in the old nut tree.”
“Ha, ha!” laughed the little rabbit, hopping out of the booth, just as Grandpa Possum poked his head out of his hollow tree house, “you certainly look sleepy. What made you wake up?”
“What woke me?” asked the possum gentleman angrily. “Why, those good for nothing Squirrel Brothers threw a snowball into my window.” And then Grandpa Possum shook the snow out of his left ear and looked around to find those naughty squirrels.
All of a sudden, quicker than a wink, another snowball hit the old hollow tree a tre-men-dous whack.
“Goodness me!” said Grandpa Possum, “if I ever catch those pesky squirrels I’ll make them wince, yes, I will, as sure as I’m twenty-one!”
And he began to grin, for Grandpa Possum is full of good nature and never can stay angry very long.
“If you’re good natured, every one
Will love you more and more,
So don’t get mad, be always glad,
And lend a helping paw,”
sang Grandpa Possum, winking at Little Jack Rabbit, as Squirrel Twinkle Tail peeked out and said:
“Excuse me, Grandpa Possum,
For throwing snow at you,
’Twould be too bad to make you mad
Or just a little blue.”
And then he and his mischievous brother Featherhead ran away and didn’t bother Grandpa Possum for a long time.
“Well, I guess I’ll be getting along,” said the little rabbit and he hopped away and by and by he came to the Shady Forest Pond where Busy Beaver had his home. But of course he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. No, siree. He was in his little mud hut whose roof stuck up above the ice and whose cellar door was way down deep where the water was free from ice and he could swim in and out as he pleased.
So the little rabbit didn’t wait, but hopped along until he came to the edge of the forest, when he started to hop across the Sunny Meadow to the Old Barn Yard where Henny Penny and Cocky Doodle lived all the year ’round. But just then he heard the supper bell. So, instead, he hurried home to be in time for Aunt Jemima’s angel cake.
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COUSIN CHATTERBOX
Little Jack Rabbit loved the snow that covered the ground with a soft white carpet. His feet never grew cold. No siree, they didn’t. All the little Forest Folk liked the snow, for Loving Mother Nature had given them warm fur, and warm fur laughs at cold just as love laughs at troubles.
Even Mrs. Grouse was happy. And if you’ve forgotten why, I’ll tell you again. It was because dear Mother Nature had given her a pair of snow-shoes. Yes, indeed. The skin had grown out between her toes until she could walk as nicely as you please over the snow. And what is more, Loving Mother Nature had taught her to dive into a snowbank where she could stay for the night as snug and warm as you please, when Old Mr. North Wind blew upon his chilly horn.
Neither did Squirrel Nutcracker care that the ground was covered with snow, and he could find no more nuts. He had a supply hidden safely away in the old hollow chestnut tree. But he did mind having other people take them. And when his cousin, Chatterbox, in his red fur coat, tried to break into his storehouse, Squirrel Nutcracker was as mad as mad could be.
“Whoever steals a nut from me
From out my storehouse in this tree,
A friend of mine shall be no more,
So let him stay outside my store.”
Chatterbox grew very angry as he peeped down from the chestnut tree and saw Little Jack Rabbit with a big smile on his face. It told the naughty red squirrel that the little rabbit knew whom the little gray squirrel meant.
But when Little Jack Rabbit opened his knapsack and took out a lemon lollypop, you should have seen those two squirrels forget all about their quarrel and scramble down the big chestnut tree. Yes, sir. Squirrel Nutcracker forgot that Chatterbox wanted to steal his nuts, and Chatterbox forgot that he had been caught! And now that I come to think it over, perhaps that is the reason the little bunny laughed just before he opened his knapsack! I guess he knew how quickly those two little squirrels would forget everything when they saw a lemon lollypop!
“Now promise me one thing to-day,
You little squirrels, red and gray,
That you will quarrel nevermore
Nor steal a nut from any store.
For he who steals will always end
In having neither love nor friend.”
Now don’t you think it wonderful that the little rabbit could make up such lovely poetry? Well, I do, but the two little squirrels thought what he does in the next story even more wonderful.
But you must not impatient get,
If mother says, it’s growing late.
Just wait until another time,
And kiss good-night your Auntie Kate.
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JIMMY JAY
Now just as I finished the last story Little Jack Rabbit handed Squirrel Nutcracker and Chatterbox each a lovely lemon lollypop. I would have told you that before, only I had no more room, so I had to wait. But it’s a good thing the little Squirrels didn’t have to wait, isn’t it?
Well, after the lemon lollypops were all gone, the little bunny went upon his way, hipperty hop, lipperty lop, until he saw Jimmy Jay on the Old Rail Fence.
Now you know that Jimmy Jay is a very mischievous little bird. Yes, sir, he certainly loves to tease. Grandmother Magpie is mischievous, too, but she’s no worse than little Jimmy Jay. She does harm by meddling and Jimmy Jay by teasing.
Yes, it certainly is too bad that such a pretty bird as Jimmy Jay should cause so much trouble. Why, his coat’s as blue as the summer sky when Mr. Merry Sun is shining at his best.
“Hip, hip, hurray,
I’m Jimmy Jay,
And I’m proud of my coat of blue.
Go on your way,
I’m Jimmy Jay,
I’ve no time to talk to you.”
“You’re too fond of yourself, Jimmy Jay,” said Little Jack Rabbit, and he wiggled his pink nose till the little Jay bird almost fell off the rail. You see, Little Jack Rabbit had the habit of wiggling his nose so fast that it made everybody dizzy to look at it.
“Mother says it’s not the clothes
You wear that make you good;
It’s having a contented mind
And doing what you should.”
Then away hopped the little rabbit, leaving Jimmy Jay to think it over. Perhaps it kept that mischievous little Jay Bird from looking at himself in the Bubbling Brook. Or maybe it was because it was all frozen over with a thick coat of ice.
Well, anyway, the little rabbit hopped along for maybe a mile or maybe less, until he came to a little hole in snow, when, all of a sudden, out popped Timmy Meadowmouse. You see in the winter time, Timmy Meadowmouse makes little tunnels under the snow, and every once in a while, here and there, he climbs up a stiff stalk of grass and pokes out his head to look around. And wasn’t he glad to see the little rabbit. Well, I just guess he was. But if he had seen Danny Fox instead he wouldn’t have been so pleased. No sireemam. And in the next story, if the little meadowmouse doesn’t play hide-and-seek in the snow till that sly old fox comes around, I’ll tell you what happened after this.
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THE TIP OF A TAIL
Now let us see—oh, yes, I remember now. We left off just when little Timmy Meadowmouse poked his head up through the snow and said, “Helloa!”
“Howdy, Timmy Meadowmouse,
Through the chimney of your house
Looking o’er the meadow white,
Glancing round from left to right,
You might lose your woollen socks
If ’t weren’t I, but Danny Fox,”
laughed Little Jack Rabbit, kicking up his strong hind legs until a big snowball hit Timmy Meadowmouse, knocking the hat off his head into a snowbank.
