Part 2

He looked around, but saw no one.

Then he listened. The sound came from behind a large tree near by. He walked over to the spot. And there sat--who do you suppose?

Little Gray Squirrel, crying into his maple-leaf handkerchief as though his very heart would break!

"What is the matter, Gray Squirrel?" asked Father Thrift.

"Oh, Father Thrift," sobbed Little Gray Squirrel, "let me tell you what some bad boys did to me!

"I live in the big old oak tree near the edge of the forest. I have a nest in the old tree's trunk. There I live with my baby squirrels. There, too, I have gathered and stored nuts for food.

"And now some boys have stolen all my nuts!

"Soon the cold days of winter will come. Then what shall I do for food for my babies and myself?"

And the poor little squirrel cried until he almost choked, and fresh tears ran down his cheeks.

Father Thrift looked angry. He said: "This is very bad. I am sorry to hear all this, good Gray Squirrel. While I cannot give you back the nuts which the boys stole, I think I can send some one to help you gather more.

"There are still some nuts on the ground, and we'll help you to find them."

Little Gray Squirrel thanked Father Thrift for his kind words. Then he dried his tears and started for home.

And the queer little old man sat watching the bushy tail as it whisked down the crooked path and out of sight.

Then all of a sudden he heard a sharp "Tap-tap-tap!"

Without even looking up Father Thrift knew who it was. "A friend in need," he said to himself.

Then he called to the woodpecker that was doing the knocking. "I wish to talk with you," he said.

Woodpecker flew down, and Father Thrift told him all about Little Gray Squirrel.

"Oh, we will help him gather a fresh store of nuts," said Mr. Woodpecker. "Indeed, we will help!" And he flew away.

Within a very short time a whole flock of woodpeckers was flying toward Little Gray Squirrel's home.

Soon Little Gray Squirrel's troubles were over, for the woodpeckers filled his winter storeroom full of the choicest nuts. Now he was sure of having plenty to eat all winter for himself and his family. And how thankful he was!

But that is not all.

When the woodpeckers were through filling the squirrel's storeroom with nuts, did they stop?

No, indeed! One woodpecker who was older than the others got up on the topmost branch of the tree and said:

"Dear brothers, do you realize now how foolish we have been all our lives?

"In the summer we feed on bugs and beetles and ants and seeds.

"Then in the winter, because we know no better, some of us go South. Some of us go hungry, and some of us die, because we cannot find enough to eat.

"Why cannot we, too, store up nuts and have food for the winter as the squirrels do?"

"The very thing!" cried the other woodpeckers.

So they all began gathering acorns and beechnuts and storing them in the bark of the trees.

Some of the nuts they would drop beneath the bark of the tree. And some they would drive with their strong bills into cracks and holes which they found here and there.

The trees which were old and worm-eaten were, of course, the easiest into which to drive the nuts. Knotholes, too, were good places in which to store food.

When the woodpeckers had many, many nuts stored away, one of them said:

"Isn't it strange that we didn't think of this before! We need not go South to find a new home this winter. We can stay right here and still have plenty to eat."

And that is what they did.

So, while the woodpeckers helped Little Gray Squirrel out of his trouble, they helped themselves into the good habit of learning to save. And they have not forgotten it to this day.

THE BUSY BEAVERS

One evening Father Thrift was sitting by the brook, looking into the water. The bright silver moon made the night almost as light as day. Everything was quiet, except for a faint ripple of the water.

Suddenly Father Thrift heard something go, "Splash-sh! splash-sh! splash! splash!" almost beside him.

Then he heard a voice calling from the water.

"Father Thrift," it said, "you have never visited us. Won't you take your canoe and come now?"

And Father Thrift, looking into the water, saw that it was Mr. Beaver who was calling.

"Thank you, thank you, Mr. Beaver!" replied the queer little old man. "I will accept your invitation with pleasure."

And soon the two were making their way through the water to the place where the beavers were building their home.

And where do you suppose that was?

On a nice sunny hill? Or in the shade of the trees?

No, no! Instead, it was in the middle of a pond which the beavers themselves had made by building a dam of mud and sticks.

The beavers' house was made of mud and sticks mixed with stones. Or, rather, it was being made. The beavers were still working at it.

"My, my," said Father Thrift, "how very, very late you beavers work! Don't you ever rest?

"I know you are very industrious. Nearly everybody knows that, as there is a familiar saying among us that an industrious person works like a beaver. But I never supposed that you worked all the time!"

"We don't," replied Mr. Beaver. "We work only at night. All of our work is done then. And I am ashamed to tell you that there are some beavers who do not wish to work at all."

"_So!_" exclaimed Father Thrift. "I am surprised at that. And do they live here, too?"

"Oh, no," said Mr. Beaver. "We have no place for lazy beavers, or 'old bachelors,' as we call them. Usually we cut their tails off and chase them away."

"That is punishment enough," said Father Thrift. "Still, lazy folks deserve no better. Wasting time is just as bad as wasting food, or money, or anything else."

Then Father Thrift stopped to watch the interesting and wonderful ways of the wise beavers.

Some of them dug mud out of the bottom of the creek.

Others cut sticks from bushes and trees with their big chisel-edged teeth. By biting out chips, one by one, a beaver can easily cut down a large tree.

The mud and sticks for their house and dam they carried against their breasts as they swam, holding them there with their forefeet. Then they would put the sticks in place and press the mud down.

Their tails they used only for swimming. But, then, those big, strong tails make fine propellers.

"You are building a very large house, it seems to me," remarked Father Thrift.

"Yes," replied Mr. Beaver. "But you must remember that several families of beavers live in the different rooms of this house."

"Just so, just so," said the queer little old man. "I suppose that you find your house comfortable. But isn't it rather damp?"

"In some parts, yes," admitted Mr. Beaver. "But in the center of our house we have rooms above the water.

"Of course, as you know, we cannot climb trees like a squirrel. Neither can we burrow like a cottontail rabbit. But in deep water we are safe.

"We enter and leave our homes from beneath the water, unseen. And when we are attacked by enemies we take to the water to save ourselves."

"I have been told that your food is chiefly the roots of the common yellow water lily," said Father Thrift. "What do you do in the winter when the pond is frozen and there are no lily roots to be had?"

"Oh," said Mr. Beaver, "we eat the bark of trees, too--mostly poplar, birch, and willow. But, as the ice prevents us from getting to the land in winter, we should not have even that to eat if we did not cut a supply of sticks in the summer time.

"These we throw into the water opposite the doors of our houses and leave them there for the winter, for bark is good beaver food."

Father Thrift nodded. But on his way home he could have been heard to say: "Wise little animals! Always working. Always saving. Always having."

THE GRAY FOXES AND THE RED FOXES

After Father Thrift came to the forest to live, one night each week (except in bad or very cold weather) had been "story night."

On "story night" all the animals would meet in front of his cave to hear and tell stories.

This night Gray Fox was to tell a story.

Gray Fox was a good story-teller, and so he always had a large audience. Most of the animals were present to hear him.

And this is the story Gray Fox told:

* * * * *

There was once a young fox who was very wasteful. He left half his food on his plate. He spent all his pennies for candy. He broke his playthings purposely, and tore his clothes needlessly. There was really no end to his wastefulness.

This fox belonged to the family of Gray Foxes. And the Gray Foxes were a prosperous nation.

They lived peaceably among themselves and with their neighbors, and every one had plenty to eat, to wear, and to spend.

So no one paid much attention to Young Fox's wastefulness. Or if the other foxes did pay attention to him, they rather imitated him, for he _was_ a clever young fox.

Soon nearly all the young foxes grew wasteful. They all left half their food on their plates. They all spent their pennies for candy. They all broke their playthings purposely, and tore their clothes needlessly. There was no end to their wastefulness.

And so things went from bad to worse.

But one day a messenger brought the Gray Foxes some bad news. The Red Foxes were preparing to make war upon the Gray Foxes!

"Why make war upon us?" asked the Gray Foxes. "We are a peaceable nation. We harm no one."

"True, true!" said Governor Gray Fox. "But remember, also, that we are a prosperous nation. We are _too_ prosperous to please the Red Foxes. We must prepare to defend ourselves."

And they did prepare. And then there was a long and bloody war between the Gray Foxes and the Red Foxes.

The Gray Fox fathers and brothers, who should have been working in the fields and mills and factories, were out killing the Red Fox fathers and brothers.

And the Red Fox fathers and brothers, instead of working in their fields and mills and factories, were out killing the Gray Fox fathers and brothers.

But the foxes did not stop eating. And they did not stop wearing clothes.

Just as many foxes as ever were eating food and wearing clothes. Yet only about half as many were left at home to make the things to eat and the clothes to wear. The rest of the foxes were away at war.

So, of course, there were only half as many things to eat and to wear as there had been before. And because there were only half as many, and every one wanted these, they cost twice as much.

Now it seemed as though the poor foxes wouldn't have money enough to buy food and clothes. And they worried as to how they could get along.

But the rich foxes, like Young Fox and his friends, could still buy all the things _they_ wanted, because they had plenty of money. They bought more than they needed.

"This will never do!" declared Governor Gray Fox. "Everybody must eat, and everybody must wear clothes.

"Hereafter every one will get an equal share of the food, and nothing must be wasted. And clothes will cost just so much and no more."

The poor foxes said that that was fair enough, for they hadn't anything to waste. But the rich foxes complained bitterly. They said the Governor was trying to starve them.

Still, they had to do as the Governor said. And it was good for them to do with less. It is true that the fat foxes lost their big stomachs, but that made them look handsomer. It also made them feel much better.

No one ever left anything on his plate now. No one spent his money foolishly. No one broke his things purposely, or tore his clothes needlessly. There was an end to all the wastefulness.

And when the war was over the Gray Foxes grew prosperous again. Only this time there were no foxes as poor as there had been before the war. Neither were there any quite so rich.

But every one had plenty. And because all shared fairly, they all lived more happily.

* * * * *

"Which shows," added Father Thrift, "that everything which happens is for the best, and the world is a good place to live in, after all."

RED SQUIRREL AND BUNNY COTTONTAIL

The ground was covered deep with snow, and it was bitter cold in the forest.

But Mr. Red Squirrel and his family were quite comfortable in their cozy home.

Mr. Red Squirrel lived with his wife and three children in the hollow of an old oak tree. They were a thrifty and industrious family.

They always had plenty to eat, besides something laid away for a rainy day.

That is because Mr. Red Squirrel was very careful about little things, and brought up his family to be the same.

Before the nuts were fully ripe, the squirrels would climb the trees, gnaw the stems, and drop the nuts to the ground.

Then they would scamper down and gather them into neat piles. They would eat some of the new nuts for breakfast, and put the rest away in the granaries.

They worked hard all the summer and autumn, getting food for the winter. And never a thing was wasted in Mr. Squirrel's house.

On this cold winter's night Mr. and Mrs. Squirrel and the three little squirrels sat warm and snug in their home in the old oak tree. Suddenly there came a tiny tap at the door.

It might have been the wind. Mrs. Squirrel was not sure. She listened. The sound came again. Yes, some one certainly was knocking at their door.

Who could it be, this bitter cold night?

Mr. Squirrel got up and opened the door. At first he saw no one.

"Who's there?" he called, in his pleasant, cheery voice.

"It is I, neighbor," answered a weak voice, sadly. "Please let me in! I am cold and hungry!"

Mr. Squirrel opened the door wide, and said: "Yes, come in, come in. It is a bitter cold night, to be sure. Come in and let me shut the door. My tail is nearly frozen just from standing here."

Then there came hopping into the hollow of the tree trunk a rabbit. Poor Bunny Cottontail, how miserable he did look!

His coat was all dirty and ragged. And his poor little tail hung down behind instead of standing up straight and stiff, as a rabbit's tail ought to do.

His ears drooped, and his whiskers were broken and limp. He had rheumatism in one hind leg, and his eyes, which should have been as bright as Mr. Squirrel's, were dull and dim.

Altogether he looked as shabby and sad as a bunny could look--not at all like a respectable, well-brought-up rabbit.

Mr. Squirrel hastened to put poor Bunny into the warmest corner of the hollow. And Mrs. Squirrel brought him some food, which he ate eagerly.

The little squirrels were so astonished at the rabbit's appearance that they did not know what to make of him.

When Bunny was warm and rested, Mrs. Squirrel sent her little ones to bed.

Then she and Mr. Squirrel began to try to find out what had happened to make their poor neighbor so forlorn.

"How could I help it?" he cried mournfully. "I did not know that it would be so cold, nor that the snow would be so deep that I should not be able to get a bit of winter cabbage to eat.

"I am sure I am willing to work. I would take any trouble, but it is not a bit of use. Indeed, Neighbor Squirrel, I do not see how you have managed."

And he looked enviously around the neat, warm little nest.

"It was very simple," replied Mr. Squirrel, gravely. "We all helped and put away part of everything we found. If we found six nuts, we put away at least three in our storeroom. And nuts and acorns were very plentiful this autumn.

"So, though the winter is very hard, we shall have plenty. We have plenty for a friend, too. So eat as much as you will, neighbor, and don't spare the loaf."

It was very kind of Mr. Squirrel, but he could not help the poor rabbit much.

Bunny had been such an idle, wandering fellow that he could not be content to stay with Mr. and Mrs. Squirrel quietly and help to do the work of their little home. So in a few days he wandered away.

As he shivered in the cold and tried to find enough to eat, he often wished that he had been as wise and as thrifty as the Squirrel family.

And the Squirrel family, being as kind-hearted as they were thrifty, often thought of the poor rabbit with pity. They wondered how he was getting on, but they never heard of him again.

SHAGGY BEAR'S MISTAKE

Father Thrift was carrying in wood for his fire. It had been a long and hard winter.

Suddenly he heard footsteps in the snow behind him. He looked around. And there--would you believe it!--stood his old friend, Shaggy Bear.

Shaggy was as thin as a shadow, and his teeth chattered with the cold.

"My, my, but you are out early this year!" exclaimed Father Thrift. "Come in and warm yourself by the fire."

Shaggy needed no coaxing. He was so cold that even his voice had frozen in his throat! At least he couldn't speak a word until he grew warm.

And the way that bear snuggled up to Father Thrift's fire was comical to see!

At last he managed to say: "Father Thrift, I shouldn't know this place if I had not lived here so long. You have a door on the cave, and two windows. And you have chairs and a table, and--and two beds.

"Why have you two beds, Father Thrift?"

"One is for company," answered the queer little old man.

"If you had just one more bed, I should say this was the House of the Three Bears."

And Shaggy laughed at his little joke. (Or perhaps the good meal which Father Thrift had prepared for him tickled his stomach.)

"Where have you been all winter?" asked Father Thrift.

"When the cold days came," said the bear, "I crawled into my cave in the rocks and curled myself up into a big ball. There I meant to stay until the warm days of spring.

"The snow made a door to my cave, and I intended to sleep all winter long.

"Then the wind swept the snow away from my door and I awoke and looked about. I thought that spring had come.

"And that is where I made my mistake. I should have gone to sleep again. But I was hungry, having had nothing to eat all winter. So I crawled out.

"The roots and the berries are still asleep under the snow. The fish are under the ice. There is nothing for me to do but return to my cave and go back to sleep."

"You must not do that," said Father Thrift. "That would be wasting time. And time is the most precious thing we have."

"Is it?" the bear asked in surprise.

"Indeed it is!" replied Father Thrift. "We may lose wealth, but by hard work and saving we may win it back.

"We may lose health, and with care and medicine restore it. But time that is lost is gone forever."

The bear listened to Father Thrift's wise talk, but he shivered and said: "Still, I am cold; and I can find no food to eat."

"I have a warm fire," said Father Thrift. "And I have food enough for us both, and to spare. I will share with you if you will help me with my work."

"That I will, gladly!" cried Shaggy, who was still smacking his lips over the fine dinner he had eaten. "But how does it happen that you have food, when the ground has been frozen so long?"

"When you learn to look ahead," replied Father Thrift, "you will find that easy enough.

"In the warm days I prepare for the cold days which I know are coming. I raise my crops. I gather berries and plums, and preserve them. The apples and the nuts will keep as they are.

"So, you see, instead of letting go to waste what I cannot use when food is plentiful, I save it for the days when food is scarce."

"Then do you rest all winter?" asked the bear.

"No!" said Father Thrift. "In the winter many things are waiting to be done. Then I make my clothes, shoes, furniture, tools, and other things."

"What are you making now?" questioned the bear, as Father Thrift whittled pieces of wood with his knife.

"These will be wooden spouts," answered Father Thrift. "You like sweet things--honey, for instance."

Father Thrift smiled. Do you know why?

"Well, maple sirup and maple sugar are about as sweet as honey. These spouts will help us get all we want of both."

"Will they?" cried Shaggy eagerly. "How?"

"The maple trees, too," Father Thrift told him, "have been sleeping all winter. Most of the sap has been down in their roots. In the early spring it travels upward into the trunk and branches and the trees awake.

"The maple tree does not need all its sap. It is willing to give some of it to us. And when you have maple sirup you won't have to steal honey from the bees."

This pleased Shaggy so much that he stood up on his hind legs and danced a bear dance. How Father Thrift laughed!

THE SWEETEST THING IN THE FOREST

Father Thrift spent the next few days in making wooden pails, in which to gather the maple sap.

What a lot of measuring and sawing and fitting and finishing it takes to make a few pails!

Shaggy Bear helped as much as he could. But bears are _such_ clumsy things!

Finally one day Father Thrift said to Shaggy: "Now everything is ready. We have our spouts with which to draw the sap from the trees. And we have the wooden pails and some earthen crocks I made from clay last summer, in which to gather it.

"There is a large iron kettle we will use for boiling the sap down into sirup and sugar.

"To-morrow we will tap our trees."

"Why to-morrow?" asked the bear. "That seems too long to wait. Why not to-day?"

"Because," replied Father Thrift, "everything depends on time. There isn't time enough left to-day. To-morrow we will start work real early. And to get up early to-morrow we must get to bed early to-night."

"I don't see how I shall be able to sleep at all," grumbled the bear.

But in a few moments he was fast asleep where he sat.

He was a funny fellow!

Still, Father Thrift did not mind. He liked the quiet. When it was quiet he could think. In that he was quite different from many people, who like only to talk.

And he thought to himself: "Suppose that each person wastes one hour a day. A hundred days, a hundred hours. Multiply that by the number of people in the world--"

But the figures were too large even for Father Thrift to count up.

"If every one would use that hour each day in reading a good book, or in thinking, or in doing something else that is useful, how much better the world would be in another hundred years!"

Father Thrift sat and thought for a whole hour.

Then he waked the bear and each went to his own bed to rest for the night.

What a funny sight it was--a man and a bear sleeping side by side in the same room!

Early the next morning Father Thrift and the bear went to the maple grove to tap their trees.

Father Thrift bored holes in the tree trunks. Then he pounded a little spout into each hole for the sap to run through.

As they had no handles on their pails and crocks, they could not hang them on the spouts. Instead they set them down in the snow under the spouts.

The sun was getting warm, and was drawing up the sap from the roots of the tree into its branches. Soon you could hear it drip, drip, dripping into the pails and the crocks.

Shaggy Bear was too astonished to talk. He put out his paw, and a great drop of shining yellow maple sap fell on it. Then he licked his paw. Then he grunted, a funny bear grunt of surprise and pleasure.

_Mmmmmm!_ It was good! It was sweet, truly. And what a delicious flavor it had!

The bear put out his paw again and again. And how he did lick the sap off it! My, oh, _my_! it was sweet! Not even the honey of the bee tasted so good. It was like nothing else in the whole forest.

Meanwhile Father Thrift was arranging his kettle and pans and building a fire.

"Now let us pour all the sap into one pail," he said, "and perhaps we shall have enough to start boiling."

"Oh, but that may spoil it!" cried Shaggy Bear.

"The sap is made sweeter by boiling," said Father Thrift. But the bear did not see how that could be.

When the sap began to boil, Father Thrift told Shaggy to stir it, so that it would not burn.

Suddenly the bear began jumping about and crying: "Father Thrift, come here, come here!"

Father Thrift ran over to see what had happened.

Shaggy was all excitement.

"Look!" he cried. "Look in the kettle! We had much there. Now we have little. I told you the fire would spoil it!"