Chapter 7

"That was the war I thought of making," he went on, after a minute or two, "and that was all there was of it. I took a walk over to see a good friend of mine, in those days, a young Mr. Bear named Redfield, generally called Cousin Redfield, or Reddie. Mr. Crow once told us about some of his little-boy adventures, as you may remember. Well, I found Cousin Redfield and told him what had happened, and he said he would go with me and help me fight that spread-shouldered ruffian, and asked me what were his weak points. I said I hadn't noticed any, and we decided that we wouldn't bother with him, and went to visit a honey-tree that Cousin Redfield had found and thought of robbing, some night. I said I didn't think it was right to rob the bees of their honey, but that we would go and look at it, to take my mind from less pleasant things.

"So we walked a good ways until we came to it, and it was there that I saw the other war that I mentioned. It seems there were several swarms of bees in that tree, it being quite a big one with a number of hollow limbs. Every year when the young bees had made new swarms they had moved into vacant limbs, until, I suppose, the tree had become quite full and pretty crowded. I don't know what had started the trouble, but there was a good deal of it going on when we got there. Perhaps some strong new or old swarm was trying to drive out a weak one and take its place. Anyway, there were about a million of those bees buzzing and whirling about outside, and you could smell that they were mad, and you could see that they were fighting, for there were dead ones on the ground, and they were pattering down on the leaves quite fast. Cousin Redfield and I first thought it was sprinkling, until we saw that the falling drops were dead bees.

"But that was nothing to what happened a few minutes later. For all those other swarms, one after another, pretty soon began to pour out from the different holes in the limbs and body of the tree, and join in the war, until the air around that tree was just black with fighting bees, and the dead ones were coming down so thick that I would not have cared to stand under it without Mr. Man's umbrella.

"Cousin Redfield and I got off a little ways to watch it. Cousin Redfield said that perhaps we ought to interfere, but I said that it wasn't our war, and that it would be better to wait and see what we could do when it was over.

"So we got in a good safe place and looked on, and I never thought anything could be like it. I don't know how those bees could decide which side they were on, or what they were fighting about, or which side was which. They must have been all relatives once, and would be all cousins, or something, now. They all looked exactly alike to Cousin Redfield and me, and pretty soon they got very thick on the ground, like a kind of black moss or something, that was spreading and piling up deeper every minute and doing nobody any good, and not deciding anything, that we could see. Cousin Redfield and I made up our minds that they had all gone crazy.

"I don't know how many millions of those bees there were, but they made a noise like Mr. Man's automobile when it is running at high speed, and that mad-bee smell was so strong that it seemed to Cousin Redfield and me almost dangerous to stay there. So we got a little farther away, for we didn't know but that all those bees might suddenly decide to quit fighting one another, and make a rush at us. But that didn't happen. They were too busy with their war. They kept on pouring out of the tree until there were no more left to come, and that black cloud whizzed and stung and smelled, and the black moss on the ground kept growing and spreading until we could see that the live ones were thinning out. By and by there were more bees on the ground than there were in the air, and we thought they would quit then and go to work, but they kept right on until they were more than shoe-top deep on the ground and just about ordinarily thick in the air, and still fighting.

"I don't know how long it was that Cousin Redfield and I stood there watching those bees kill one another, but I know by sunset there were not more than a dozen or two left, and they were roosting about on the limbs and leaves, worn out or crippled, and not able to fight any more.

"Then Cousin Redfield said he thought it was time for us to interfere and see what could be done, so we each broke off a little birch brush and swept a path through that black bee moss, and looked into the hole at the bottom of the tree, but couldn't hear anything. So we climbed up a little ways and pretty soon came to honey--bushels of it. There were no bees there except a few fat, lazy ones that couldn't sting, and were probably kings or queens or something, and we didn't mind them. We ate all the honey we could, and went home, and next morning got baskets and all day long carried honey out of the bee-tree and had enough to last our families for a whole year, the best honey I ever saw in the Big Deep Woods, and the _most_ I ever expect to see.

"We didn't get it quite all, though, for the second morning when we came back we found the tree occupied. Violet and that big, rough creature from the Jagged Bluffs had found it, and started housekeeping there, with enough honey to last them at least a month. I heard later they called it their honeymoon, and I believe people sometimes call the first few weeks of being married by that name still.

"Cousin Redfield said he would help me drive them out, if I said so; but I said no, that place had seen war enough, and with all the honey we had at home I could get along without the present contents of the tree, so we went away. I said that something would probably happen to those two for the way they had done, and I was right. For about six weeks later the honey smell of that tree brought another big, new, strong swarm of bees to settle there, and they turned Violet and her thick-necked partner out, in about two minutes, and took full possession. Cousin Redfield Bear and I used to walk over that way every day, to observe things, and we happened along just as it was going on. That fellow's wide build didn't help him any against bees. Violet came out first, pawing her nose with one hand, and knocking bees with the other. He stayed to fight a little, but directly he rolled out, scratching and pawing, and five minutes later his own mother wouldn't have known him, he was so swelled. Violet looked at him, and then at me and Cousin Redfield laughing at him, and I think would have deserted him for me, then; but Violet herself had one eye closed, and her nose was the shape and size of a reversed turnip. I saw then that I had never truly loved her and had been wise to give her up. They left the country soon afterwards and I don't know what became of them. That honey-tree blew down one winter night about a year after, and then Cousin Redfield and I went back and got some more honey, but not as much as we did after the great war."

The Hollow Tree people hadn't said a word during Mr. 'Coon's story, but when he had finished Mr. Dog said so far as he could see there was just about as much sense in that war as there was in the one going on over on the other side of the world, and that the war over there would very likely end in about the same way.

But Mr. 'Possum said that Mr. 'Coon's war was a good deal better than Mr. Man's, because, being so soon over, nothing but those silly fighting bees was wasted; and for Mr. 'Coon and Cousin Redfield Bear to have stayed out of it until there was no more fighting, and then go in and carry off a wagon-load of honey, was probably the smartest thing they had ever done in their lives.

FOOTNOTES:

[5] "Mr. Turtle's Thunder Story" in _The Hollow Tree and Deep Woods Book_.

MR. CROW AND THE WHITEWASH

I

THE OLD BLACK CROW TRIES A STRANGE EXPERIMENT

One very nice May morning when Mr. Crow went over to call on Jack Rabbit, he found him whitewashing his back fence, and after Mr. Rabbit had showed Mr. Crow how fine it looked when it was dry, he took him into the kitchen, which he had whitewashed the day before, and Mr. Crow went on about it and said it was the nicest thing he ever saw, and if he just knew how, and had the things to do it with, he would whitewash his own kitchen in the Hollow Tree.

Then Mr. Jack Rabbit said it was the easiest thing in the world--that all one needed was a little quick-lime and some water and a brush, and then some practice in putting it on so it would look nice and even, and not spotty and streaky, as was so liable to be the case when one had not learned how. Mr. Rabbit said he had borrowed some quick-lime early one morning from Mr. Man's lime-kiln, over in the edge of the Big West Hills, and that Mr. Crow could get some at the same place if he went early enough and took a basket to bring it home in. Jack Rabbit said that you must put the lime into a barrel, or a tub, or something, and then pour water on it, which would make it hot and smoky, quite suddenly, which he supposed was the reason it was called quick-lime, but that by and by it would grow cool and turn white, when it was called "slack" lime, and then it only needed some more water to make the beautiful, clean whitewash which Mr. Crow admired so much. As for practice, he said, he would let Mr. Crow try a little on his back fence.

So then Mr. Crow and Jack Rabbit went back to the fence job, and Mr. Rabbit stirred the whitewash and dipped in the brush, and made a few strokes, right and left, and then crossed them up and down, and then right and left again, to get the material on nice and smooth, and stood off to look at it until it began to look white and clean, because the sun was hot and dried it very fast; and pretty soon he let Mr. Crow have the brush. Mr. Crow did very well for the first time, and kept improving right along, and Jack Rabbit sat in the shade, where it was cool, and let Mr. Crow go on practising and improving, until he had whitewashed almost all the fence, and felt so hot and warm he was about ready to drop, beside being dazzled from looking at the boards that got as white as snow, with the hot sun shining on them.

Then all at once Mr. Crow noticed something else. He had not been very careful about splashing the whitewash and had got some of it on different parts of himself, and especially on the wing that he worked with, and when he stopped and looked at it, he said, "Good gracious!" for wherever the whitewash had got on him he was not black any more, but snow white.

And right then Mr. Crow had an idea. He put the brush in the pail, and came over and stood in front of Jack Rabbit, and said:

"Why can't you whitewash me?" he said. "I've always thought it would be pleasant to be white, for a change. I heard of a white crow, once, in our family, and I always wondered how he got that way. Of course he must have been whitewashed--I can see it, now, as plain as anything. I am sure you could whitewash me, Mr. Rabbit, with all the practise you've had, so that none of the black would show. Whitewash me for Sunday, Mr. Rabbit, and I will go home and give Mr. 'Coon and Mr. 'Possum a great surprise."

Well, Mr. Rabbit was delighted. He dearly loved to try experiments, and prepare surprises, and to show how well he could do things. He said he believed he had heard of people being whitewashed for Sunday, and that Mr. Crow, who was so nice and smooth outside, would be just the one to be fixed up in that way. He said Mr. Crow might need more than one coat to make him seem perfect, but that he would take time and do a good job. Then he said he had a smaller brush in the house, for fine work, and would get it right away.

Mr. Crow was already in hot weather costume and only had to lay off his vest for Jack Rabbit to begin, and pretty soon Mr. Rabbit came back with the fine brush and went to work. He told Mr. Crow to shut his eyes and keep them shut until the stuff was dry, as it might smart a little if it ran in them, and to stand in the sun, which Mr. Crow did. Jack Rabbit began at the top and whitewashed clear down to his feet, and then told him to turn around slowly, so the sun could get on all sides of him, and get him dry enough for a second coat.

So Mr. Crow turned around and around, and kept his eyes shut, and got quite dizzy, before Mr. Rabbit told him he could open his eyes now and see how he liked his appearance as far as gone. And Mr. Crow looked and said he liked it very much, though he was pretty streaky in places. Mr. Rabbit said the next coat would surprise him, and told him to shut his eyes again, which Mr. Crow did, and Jack Rabbit gave him another and very heavy coat, from head to foot. Then when Mr. Crow had turned and turned in the sun to dry himself, he looked again and was quite pleased. He was almost entirely white, now, and Mr. Rabbit said one more coat would fix him.

So then Mr. Rabbit gave him the last coat and laid the whitewash on thicker than ever, especially in places, and when Mr. Crow could open his eyes he went in and looked at himself in Mr. Rabbit's long glass, and said he never thought anything so astonishing as that could happen to anybody, and declared he must hurry right off home now, and that he was going to make up a lot of whitewash and keep himself looking like that all the time, and his kitchen, too, and perhaps all the rest of the Hollow Tree, for there was certainly nothing in the world so wonderful as whitewash.

Then Mr. Crow thanked Mr. Rabbit and hurried off, but pretty soon walked slower, for, as he got dryer and dryer, the thick whitewash got stiffer and more caky, and Mr. Crow cracked a good deal as he walked, and he was afraid his nice new color might come off if he wasn't careful.

Mr. 'Possum and Mr. 'Coon were taking a nap in the sun when Mr. Crow got back to the Hollow Tree, and didn't hear him until he was standing right in front of them. Then they both woke up at once and took one look at the strange, white creature standing over them, almost blinding in the sun, and each one thought at first he was having a very wonderful dream, and couldn't speak for enjoying it. But when Mr. Crow started to come closer they were not so sure about the dream, and both gave a big jump and made for the down-stairs door of the Hollow Tree, and got inside and bolted it tight.

That, of course, made Mr. Crow laugh, but not loud enough for them to hear him, and pretty soon he went to the door and tried the latch, and then knocked, and Mr. 'Possum called out--

"W-wh-who's there?"

"Why, it's me!" said Mr. Crow. "What have you got the door bolted for?"

And Mr. 'Coon called out, "Oh, Mr. Crow, did you see anything out there?"

"Why, no," said Mr. Crow. "What made you think so."

And Mr. 'Possum said, "W-we saw something very strange out there, Mr. Crow--a v-very curious bird!"

"I guess you were dreaming," said Mr. Crow. "There is no bird out here but me, that I know of. Open the door so I can come in and get the dinner."

So then Mr. 'Possum and Mr. 'Coon pulled back the bolt and opened the door, but when they saw Mr. Crow standing there, so white and shining, Mr. 'Possum fainted and Mr. 'Coon got behind a barrel until they heard Mr. Crow laugh and ask them if his new complexion had changed him so they didn't know him?

Then Mr. 'Possum came to, and Mr. 'Coon came out, and Mr. Crow told them all about how it happened, and they all went out in the sun again, and Mr. 'Coon and Mr. 'Possum walked around Mr. Crow and admired him and talked about his great change, and Mr. 'Possum touched him and said his complexion seemed pretty solid, somewhat like a shell, and Mr. Crow told him how he had to move rather carefully in it, at first, though very likely it would limber up in time. Then he told them how he was going to do the kitchen that way, and perhaps other things, and they all got excited and talked about it, and Mr. 'Possum said that probably he would have them give him a coat next winter, to match the snow which would be handy, nights when he was borrowing chickens from Mr. Man, though he supposed he would have to be dipped. Then they went in to dinner, and Mr. Crow set out such things as did not require much exercise, and by and by they all talked about it a great deal more and decided to have a regular cleaning up and whitewashing, like Mr. Rabbit's. Mr. 'Coon said he and Mr. 'Possum would do the cleaning up if Mr. Crow would attend to the whitewashing, as he had learned how, and they would all begin next day.

II

WHAT CAME OF MR. CROW'S GREAT EXPERIMENT

Well, Mr. Crow slept sitting up in a chair that night, for fear of damaging his new complexion, and next morning was out very early with a basket, on the way to Mr. Man's lime-kiln in the edge of the Big West Hills.

It had rained a little in the night, and Mr. Crow was rather afraid he might get his new complexion wet on the bushes, so he stepped very carefully and was not really comfortable, though proud of his looks. He was gone a good while, but Mr. 'Coon and Mr. 'Possum were still asleep when he got back, so he emptied his lime into an old barrel behind the stove where he intended to mix it by and by, and started the breakfast before calling them. They didn't get up right away, though, so Mr. Crow sat down and had a cup of coffee and a biscuit or two, and then called to them that he was going over to borrow Mr. Rabbit's whitewash brush. He might be a little while getting back, he said, but that they could start their job any time.

So then he left, and Mr. 'Coon and Mr. 'Possum had their breakfast, and talked about what they would do, and decided that Mr. 'Coon could set things to rights in the house, and Mr. 'Possum could rake the leaves. After that they had some more coffee and talked some more, and Mr. 'Possum stretched and said he hadn't slept very well, and didn't know as he cared so much about cleaning up things this morning as he had yesterday, but he supposed they must be getting at it, as Mr. Crow seemed to have his mind set on changing things in general since Mr. Rabbit had got him started in the direction of whitewash, which improved him, of course, in some ways; though it certainly made him less homelike and familiar and seemed to affect his cooking.

Then Mr. 'Possum yawned again and went down-stairs and got the rake, and went out and began to make a few little piles of leaves, which were quite wet from the rain, and did not rake very easy, and made him tired. So pretty soon he called up to Mr. 'Coon, who was sweeping and moving furniture, and asked him what he should do with the leaves, as they were too wet to burn, and if he left them there until they were dry the wind would blow them all about again.

Mr. 'Coon looked out the up-stairs window and told him he'd better fetch them up and put them in something in Mr. Crow's kitchen, so he could have them to light his fire with when they got dry. Then pretty soon he came down and helped Mr. 'Possum, and they carried them up, and saw Mr. Crow's barrel, and threw them in until it was quite full, then poked them down and put in some more, and said how glad Mr. Crow would be to have them, and that now they would go outside and rest a little, until they saw him coming.

So they went out and sat on a log and smoked, and were wondering what kept Mr. Crow so long, when Mr. 'Possum said he smelled something curious, and just then Mr. 'Coon happened to look up at the window, and said:

"Goodness gracious alive, if the Hollow Tree isn't on fire!"

Then Mr. 'Possum looked up, too, and said, "As sure as you're born, and we shall lose everything!"

And just then they saw Mr. Crow coming, on the run, for he had seen it even before they had--Mr. Crow being always a great hand to see things.

"Hurry up, and get out our things," he said; and didn't stop, but ran right to the door and up the stairs, with Mr. 'Coon and Mr. 'Possum after him, though there was a good deal of smelly smoke there, and they expected the flames to break out any minute. Mr. Crow said the fire seemed to be in the kitchen, and commenced to grab the parlor furniture and hand it to them, and Mr. 'Possum called to him to get his best suit out of his room, if possible, as he never expected to be able to afford another. Mr. 'Coon ran through to his room, and brought out some pictures he thought a good deal of, and came dragging his trunk with his free hand, and slipped when he got it to the stairs, and rode down on it like a sled, while everybody worked carrying and throwing things, and Mr. Crow forgot all about his fine new complexion, which began to crack off and scatter until it was all over the floor and stairs. Then pretty soon they all felt so choky from that queer smelly smoke that they went out in the air and piled up their things at a safe distance and stood, waiting for the flames to break out and burn down their big Hollow Tree they had lived in so long.

But for some reason the flames did not break out, and by and by the smoke seemed to get less. Then it really got a good deal less, until there wasn't any to speak of, and after a while the Hollow Tree people went to the down-stairs door and looked in, and, though there was plenty of smell, there was no smoke. Mr. 'Possum said it smelt a good deal like Mr. Man's lime-kiln on a wet morning. Then Mr. Crow had an idea.

"Did you put anything in that barrel behind the stove," he said to Mr. 'Possum and Mr. 'Coon.

"Why, yes," Mr. 'Coon said, "we put in the leaves that Mr. 'Possum raked up. They were wet, and we put them there to dry, so you could have them to cook with."

Then Mr. Crow went straight up the stairs and back to his kitchen, and there was the barrel of leaves, still smoking a little, though not much, for the lime was about "slacked." Mr. Crow took hold of the barrel, and Mr. 'Coon and Mr. 'Possum, too, and they carried it down-stairs and outside, and when they got it far enough away from the tree they emptied it out and kicked the leaves over the lime, which was still smoking a little and seemed very hot. Then Mr. Crow looked down at himself, and said:

"I don't care much about whitewash, anyway."

And Mr. 'Coon and Mr. 'Possum looked at him, too, which they had been too busy to do before, and Mr. 'Coon said:

"It doesn't seem to last very well."

And Mr. 'Possum said, "Mr. Crow, you have a new complexion every day."

For the whitewash had come off of Mr. Crow in patches, until he looked like a black-and-white crazy quilt. And just then it began to rain again, and they all hurried to carry in their things; and when they got them all in the tree again Mr. 'Coon and Mr. 'Possum began to straighten them, but Mr. Crow said he thought he would go outside a little and enjoy the shower. Then pretty soon it poured pitchforks, but still Mr. Crow didn't come in, and when Mr. 'Coon and Mr. 'Possum looked out of the upper window they saw him hopping about in it, and waving, and sometimes rolling in the leaves, and mopping his face as if he liked it better than anything; and by and by, when the rain was over and he came in, there was no more whitewash, and he was the blackest, shiniest Old Black Crow that ever was.

Then Mr. 'Coon said that, after all, there was nothing like a natural complexion.

And Mr. Crow said: "The trouble about whitewash is that it's too hard to keep it on."