Part 3

The old goose was indeed a haughty personage, as any one could tell by the way she held her head. For she swam as a soldier marches, with eyes to the front and a splendid air.

Soon they came to where the narrow inlet of the marsh widened into a broad expanse of water banked by low, wide areas of reeds and rushes. Many channels and enticing little bays made off into the depths of shady and inviting spots where there were cedars and alders and dense, tangled vines. There were delicious odors in the air, and this made the goslings suddenly very hungry. They begged their mother to let them run through the grasses to pluck the tender and inviting things which their eyes caught sight of. But she shook her downy head and kept them paddling along beside her, cautioning them very wisely:

"Never go browsing by yourself until you know the ways of the country. Where there are others feeding it is safe for goslings. But to go into those tall grasses, tempting as they are, is to walk right into danger. You have never met Mr. Blacksnake, and I hope you never will until you are too big to tempt him!"

Immediately, of course, they clamored for the details about this dreadful creature, but their mother spared them any unhappy visions of the sort.

"You must not dwell on such uncomfortable things," she would say. "All you need think of when you are out with me are the bright sky and the good green world. But here we are, almost at Mrs. Bittern's gate. And there is Grandpa Bittern waiting for us at the door."

As she spoke, the goslings all craned their necks; but they were not big enough to see over the top of things as their mother could, and they were totally in doubt as to who the Bitterns were, or where they lived.

Suddenly there was a great quacking and flapping of wings on the part of their mother, and they found themselves touching bottom in a beautiful shallow where the black earth and the mosses grew over the very water. Here all was shaded and hidden by the overhanging bushes, and great tree-trunks rose close at hand, with clinging vines and innumerable strands of leaf and tendril swaying in the clear air.

Never had they dreamed of such a beautiful spot. But they were not to realize how lovely it was all at once, for they were to get acquainted with it only after the greetings of the visit were over.

Their cousin, Mrs. Bittern, who was so slim and brown, with black trimmings to her wings, and a bit of gray lace at her bosom, and the stately gentleman who stood guard by her nest, were quite enough to overpower the little goslings. They couldn't remember their own names and they stammered with embarrassment; and in the nest was a solitary youngster, with a very long bill, and big, frightened eyes, whom they were cautious in approaching. His only greeting was a vicious poking at them with his little head, and they noted that his neck was very strong.

"Billy isn't used to children yet," Mrs. Bittern hastened to apologize. "But he'll soon get used to them. Just hand him a bit of fish, Father, and a few of those small crabs. Oh, a very small one, Father. You nearly choked him to death with that big one you gave him at breakfast."

True enough, little Billy Bittern was in a better humor when something more had gone down his throat; and while the two mothers fell into an immediate discussion of the stupidity of fathers and uncles, the baby Bittern and the little goslings were quacking and playing around the nest in the noisiest fashion.

"So this, my dears, is a true country home," their mother said as she turned to them. "This is the kind of thing that your father and I have always wanted; a little place of our own in the swamp!"

"Oh, Mother dear, wouldn't it be lovely!" they all burst out, really transported with joy at the thought of living forever where it was all like this, so free and open and sweet.

"Ha! ha!" laughed the tall owner of the charming retreat. "That is what you farm people always say when you get here. But you know very well you'll be glad to get back to what you call the conveniences and elegance of life."

By this he meant the cracked corn, and the snug quarters, and the rest of the good things in the farmer's yard.

But Mrs. Goose pretended not to understand him at all, and was helping Mrs. Bittern to put the nest to rights as they all prepared to go out for a walk. For that is always the first thing to do when you visit your country cousins.

Such precautions as the Bitterns took when they left the house! It was cover the nest here and put a stick there, and finally, to effect a complete disguise, they raked a lot of straw over the top. Why, you never would have guessed it was a house at all!

Then through the grasses and the deep, black mud, and over innumerable tufts of green, where there were great wild cabbages and tempting bunches of mallow and flag, they went in happy procession. The goslings nibbled and tasted and feasted, wherever their mother was sure it was wise, and little Billy with his sharp beak poked incessantly in the mud for the things he liked best in the way of tadpoles and beetles.

Almost all day they picnicked in this delightful place, and only stopped in their leisurely stroll when they came to a grassy knoll where the mother birds thought it well to let the children rest.

All the gossip of the year was gone over by their elders. Mrs. Bittern told of her winter sojourn far to the South.

"We stayed much of the time with the Herons and the Spoonbills. Theirs is such an attractive rookery, you know, and I delight in Southern society. We came North with your first cousin, Mrs. Hudson Goose. A noble family, your great Northern relatives, my dear Fluffy. But they fly a little too fast for us Bitterns. We parted after a few days. Longbill, you know, likes to take it easy when he travels."

But the children observed that Mrs. Bittern was moved to tears when their mother alluded to her late half-brother and another relative, uniting these names with a reference to Christmas dinner. But they did not understand the connection, and it puzzled them when Cousin Bittern answered:

"Never mind, dear Fluffy Goose, there's little danger for you. You know you're getting tough. Let's see, you're twenty now, are you not?"

And they were still more surprised when their mother bridled at this and said that surely Mrs. Bittern was mistaken. No, she was only eighteen, and if her neck was spared it was not at all because she was tough. It was because she possessed the ability to lay the most and largest eggs, and to rear the finest families.

Mrs. Bittern was only too eager to agree with her companion. Not for the world would she have her words taken amiss; so the little family quarrel was passed over, and Mr. Bittern merely observed that the ladies were getting a little tired, and he thought that they had all better go home.

But if he had been very quiet, this dignified Mr. Bittern, he was, like a good many modest people, none the less able to distinguish himself, for after they reached the welcome door-yard, and Mrs. Goose and her family were about to depart for home, he supplied the treat of the whole day.

"Surely, Cousin Longbill," Mrs. Goose had remarked, "you are going to boom for us before we go. I wouldn't have the babies miss it for anything."

Whereat, to their dismay, Mr. Bittern began making the most frightful sound they had ever heard. It was his great feat, that for which his family was renowned, and it was not like anything ever known on sea or land. To do it he filled himself so full of air that he was like to burst. And he was very red in the face when he got through, like a good many famous singers.

"Isn't it wonderful!" said his wife. "I never knew one to sing the national anthem better."

For, to her simple soul, her husband's song was of course the one and only song. It must consequently be very important.

Scarcely could Mrs. Goose praise her cousin enough, and the goslings all begged him to do it again. But once was enough, he reminded them, and they discreetly forbore from disagreeing with him.

By this time they must hurry to get home, and their farewells were hasty. Like many return journeys, the way back was the shortest; and before they knew it, the goslings were trailing through the bushes at the foot of their own pasture. And somehow the little hill and the pair of bars and the bit of road, even the farmyard strewn with straw and pleasingly disordered, suddenly looked better to them than the lonely home of the Bitterns far out in the great swamp.

"Ah, my dears," their mother said, as they waddled up to their home under the burdocks and the currant bushes, "that's what a day away from home does for you. It makes you glad for what you have."

And indeed they were happy to nestle under her ample wings, as the stars came out and the house dog bayed at the moon. And they were very happy to have heard their Cousin Bittern do his booming, and hoped, as many people hope after a great performance, that they would never have to hear it again!

VII

MRS. FOX STEALS ONE EGG TOO MANY

Once upon a time, long, long ago, Mrs. Rabbit lived down by the sea on a great sand-hill. She was a very kind neighbor and disturbed no one. She was poor, but she owned a great gray goose who laid wonderful big eggs.

The goose had come to her in the strangest way, years and years ago. For it happened one day that just as Mrs. Rabbit was locking up her house to go and visit her cousins, she heard a sad voice in the bushes cry, "Oh, Mrs. Rabbit, Mrs. Rabbit, please do help me in. I have broken my wing and fallen here, and all the other geese that were flying with me are gone. They left me where I fell."

At that Mrs. Rabbit gave up her intended visit, and took poor Downy Goose into the house, sent for Dr. 'Possum, and did her best to comfort her.

When Dr. 'Possum came, he took one look at the afflicted goose, shook his head, and declared he could do nothing for her. Mrs. Rabbit thereupon told the unfortunate wayfarer that she must live there always.

"You must make your home with me," she said, "and we will make the best of things. Even with your poor broken wing you can manage to get along, for there is a fine swamp below the ridge of this hill and near it is the best of green grass and shady bushes."

Poor Downy Goose was overcome with happiness. She could only dry her streaming eyes with a plantain leaf, while she kept saying:

"You are so kind, so very kind, dear Mrs. Rabbit! I shall do my best to lay an egg every day for you--omitting Sundays, of course, and the Fourth of July."

At this Mrs. Rabbit threw her arms around poor Downy's neck and they wept with joy. And from that day to this they have been the closest friends.

Nor did the good gray goose fail in her promise. Indeed, she did her best; and always by noon, while Mrs. Rabbit would be dusting and sweeping, or getting the boiled grass ready for dinner, the lady goose would sit in the door-yard mending socks or reading poetry, when suddenly she would lay an egg, and then, calling to her dear friend to bring the basket, they would put the egg away on the pantry shelf. Then they would betake themselves for the rest of the day to the field and the edge of the swamp where Mrs. Rabbit would nibble the tender grass, and Downy Goose would wade in the soft, cool mud.

Now, it was soon known among all the neighbors that Mrs. Rabbit and the strange goose were living together. Also it was soon told abroad that the goose was paying her board in eggs--big eggs--that she paid it every day, and that Mr. and Mrs. Rabbit were faring on the finest food. They had scrambled eggs, and omelettes and pound cake at every meal--and all this for merely taking in the poor, afflicted goose!

You would think that all who heard it would have been glad to know how happy the rabbits were, and they ought to have pitied the poor goose who could never fly again; but that is not the way of the world. Instead of saying nice things, they said ugly ones, and behind Mrs. Rabbit's back, the neighbors, Mrs. Fox in particular, expressed the bitterest jealousy.

Mrs. Fox, indeed, grew so envious of these big goose eggs that at last she could stand it no longer, and resolved upon a plan for stealing them. She put all her wits to work, for, to get such big eggs and carry them without breaking them open was a thing which only the cleverest thief in the world could do. Nevertheless, every day for five days, an egg disappeared from Mrs. Rabbit's pantry.

Mrs. Rabbit was greatly disturbed, but she never dreamed who was stealing the eggs. Finally she decided to watch the nest all the time; and to her surprise found that the thieves were her neighbors--Mr. and Mrs. Fox.

How cleverly they managed! Mr. Fox lay on his back and held the big egg while Mrs. Fox pulled him over the hill by means of a rope tied to his tail. In this way they got the egg home.

But Mrs. Rabbit laughed as she thought of how poor Mr. Fox's back would be skinned, and how she would get revenge.

Nor was it long before a way was opened for her to recover the lost eggs, and to put Mrs. Fox to confusion. For who should come walking in one morning but Mr. Bear, to say that invitations were out for a wonderful feast of goose eggs at Mrs. Fox's home on the following Saturday night. And he asked Mrs. Rabbit if she were going.

That was enough! Mrs. Rabbit determined to get back the eggs. But she would have to be very clever to fool Mrs. Fox.

Mrs. Rabbit knew that Mrs. Fox would come for the last goose egg soon. So she bored a hole in this egg at each end, and blew in at one end till the contents all flew out at the other and the shell was empty. Then she slipped inside, and Mr. Rabbit pasted small pieces of white paper over the openings.

And here Mrs. Rabbit waited for the thieves to come, while Mr. Rabbit hid behind a tree near by.

Soon they came, and after much effort the big egg was carried into Mrs. Fox's home. Mrs. Rabbit chuckled to herself as she saw the other five big eggs through a tiny peephole in the paper.

While the gay old foxes were in the next room, entertaining their guests, Mrs. Rabbit broke the paper at one end and slipped out. Then she called softly to her husband to bring the wheel-barrow; and they piled in all the eggs and carried them away.

Nor were they more pleased to recover their lost property than was the obliging goose when she learned of all that had been going on.

"To think," she exclaimed, "that I have been laying eggs for those dreadful foxes!"

And Mr. and Mrs. Fox wonder to this day who stole the goose eggs.

VIII

WHY MRS. FROG MUST LIVE IN THE SWAMPS

Long, long ago Mrs. Frog lived on the hillsides. She was a goddess worshiped by all the fairies because she ruled the sunshine and the rain, and she was a friend to them all, being generous and dutiful.

With her seventy daughters, she spent the days in spinning the most beautiful cloth of gold for the fairies to wear, and the flax which she spun was as yellow as the biggest and ripest pumpkin you ever saw.

All the years that she served the fairies by her industry, and was dutiful in calling down the rains to refresh the earth, she was in great favor with the world, and no one was so much beloved by all the animals as Mrs. Frog.

But the seventy daughters who were so handsome, and who spun such miles of yellow thread, grew restless, and kept begging their mother for a holiday. She, too, owned to being a little weary, and would often remark with a yawn that it wasn't the spinning, nor yet the weaving, which tired her, but the lack of diversion.

"And think, dear Mother," they would say, "think of our lazy brothers, who do nothing but admire their shapely legs all day, and spend the whole night dancing and singing and eating suppers. It isn't fair!"

On speaking thus the daughters were very artful. For if there was one thing which angered Mrs. Frog, it was the laziness of her sons. Years and years ago she had given up trying to get them to do a single useful thing. And it was no consolation to observe that they got along in the world somehow, whether they did anything or not.

"Look at their awful stomachs," she would exclaim. "The lazy creatures, always eating and singing. What a life!"

It was thus that the seventy daughters played upon her feelings of disgust, urging her to adopt a change and give up spinning. Each one spoke to her alone, seven times a week, when she would reply:

"Yes, my daughter, I am listening, and I don't know but what you are quite right."

And then, when all the whole seventy spoke together, as they made a point of doing when they knew she was tired out and had the headache, she could only clasp her hands to her ears and flee to her bedroom.

At last the daughters won and Mrs. Frog began her holiday. She meant to take but a single evening and a day, hoping to get back to work there-after, rested and refreshed. But alas! once she began her career of dancing, and feasting, and staying up till morning to sing and laugh and watch the sun come up, the day never came that she was willing to spin the yellow flax.

Forty of the lovely daughters danced themselves to death within a week, but Mrs. Frog was so busy waltzing and marching and singing that in each instance, as the sad news came to her that another daughter was dead, she was too gay to care or even to ask, "Which one?"

Terrible disaster began to come upon the land. All the birds and plants were dying for water. Clouds passed by, but Mrs. Frog was too lazy to make the rain fall. If she wasn't dancing, she was sleeping, and so no time remained for her duties.

One day the animals from the forest came to call on Mrs. Frog, to plead for rain. The mother rabbits came from long distances to tell Mrs. Frog how their babies were perishing for water and for tender bits of green grass.

But Mrs. Frog had become hardened and told them to leave her alone.

"Please give us rain! Please give us rain!" the birds all pleaded; but Mrs. Frog only frowned at having been awakened.

Then came all the bees and the butterflies from the hillsides, tired, hot, and dusty.

"We are your neighbors and friends," they cried. "Do give us rain! The flowers are all dead and we have no honey to eat!"

"Go away!" croaked Mrs. Frog. "I must sleep during the day, and I have no time to worry with you! If you don't like the way I manage this hillside, go to the swamp lands!"

Next came the fairies for their yellow dresses, which Mrs. Frog was to have spun from the yellow flax. Mrs. Frog was fast asleep, but when they called and called her she awoke. She rubbed her sleepy eyes and awakened all the family to help her spin the flax; but the sun shone down on the hot, dry earth so burningly that all her spinning-wheels caught on fire and everything in her house was burned up.

"Oh, for a drop of water!" the birds and the animals were calling. "Help us, Mrs. Frog! Do help us!"

But it was too late. Even Mrs. Frog's wand, with which she called forth the rain from the clouds, was burned up. And Mrs. Frog was so terribly hot and thirsty that she didn't know what to do.

As a last resort she started for the swamp lands, thirty of her exhausted daughters trailing after her. They were all so tired they could no longer walk, and finally, being faint and bent over to the ground, they took to hopping.

Down, down, down, through the hills they hopped until at last they reached the dark, damp swamp. The daughters had become as lazy as the sons; and Mrs. Frog herself desired nothing in the world but a cool, muddy bed at night, and a good log or a lily pad to sit on throughout the livelong day.

But in her muddy bed she doesn't sleep; for all night long one may hear her calling: "More rain! More rain! More rain!"

While Mr. Frog croaks: "Knee deep! Knee deep! Knee deep!"

And all the little frogs: "Wade in! Wade in! Wade in!"

IX

THE SCARE-MAN TREE

There was a time when the world was mostly forest. There were plains, to be sure, and rich valleys, but the trees were everywhere, so that even the towns and farms were hidden by them; and there were no great cities at all.

It was then that the animals lived in peace, and they were not driven to hide themselves, nor to be always moving farther and farther away to find new shelters.

But the days came when the forests were cut away. A little at a time, and always along the edges of the woods, men began to hack and to chop and to saw, until one by one the great trees came down. With them as they crashed to the earth came the birds' nests; and where the trees had stood, the mosses and the grass dried up and died, for the hot sun poured in where once it had been shady and cool.

In the days when this began it distressed the animals; so that the poor creatures at last resorted to a wonderful plan. To them the woods were very dear, and never were they frightened at what they saw or heard; although the depths of the forest were so full of terrors to foolish men.

News was spread through the glens and across the mountains that something was going to be done to save the woods. The birds and the swift, scampering little weasels, and the soft-footed wildcat, who can cover many miles and never be seen or heard, took the messages far and away. Time was allowed; for the beaver and the mud-turtle were necessary to the plan, and even at her best Mrs. Beaver is slow in her motions. It was none other than crafty old Major Wolf who had conceived the plan by which they would teach the wood-cutters a lesson.

"Such simple and foolish creatures they are!" he remarked. "We've only to frighten them out of their wits, by some device or other, and if we scare them enough they'll keep away from these woods forever!"

With that he snapped his terrible jaws and turned his great yellow eyes on the company. Before him and around him were all the animals of the forest. The deer, who could think of nothing to do but to run, the fox, who knew every possible way of deceiving his enemies, the bear and the panther and many of the small creatures, down to the sleek little mole, were all talking at once.

The bear and the wildcat were very impatient. They were all for fighting outright.

"You hug and I'll scratch," said the lynx to the bear.

"We can do up an army of choppers if we get the chance," added the panther; but he was lost in the debate, for the wisest of all, the great gray wolf, reminded them that if the men with their axes so much as caught sight of the animals, they would go away only to come back with their guns and to fill the forest with every conceivable trap.

Then he pointed to a great, dead tree which stood alone and on the brow of the hill. The animals looked and tried to get his meaning. Some of them yawned, such as the hedgehog, whose wits are slow; but the quick Mrs. Fox jumped and cried, "That's it, that's it! We'll make that tree into a giant to guard the path to our woods."

Then Major Wolf exclaimed that the sagacious fox had guessed his plan.

The wind and the frost had bent and broken the tree until it was like nothing in the world so much as a giant. Its arms were there and its shoulders; and its terrible body, as high as the church steeple, was bent forward as if to fall on any one so rash as to come near it. But it needed a great deal of what the heron called "touching up"; for the heron is an artist, and goes every year, they say, to study the sculptures of Egypt.

"It needs a mouth and two eyes, as any one can see for himself," the lynx remarked; and the mole and the hedgehog suggested that the feet might be improved. Here was the task for the beavers; for carving and cabinet work is their specialty. And to chisel great holes for the eyes and the mouth was exactly what the woodpeckers and the squirrels could do.