Chapter 3

"Up he jumped and scampered away to cut some more and spread it out on the rocks. Then he discovered that the pea vine which he spread in the sun dried as he wanted it to, while any that happened to be left in the shadow of a rock didn't dry so well. He had learned how to make hay. He was the first hay-maker in the Great World. He soon had more than enough for a bed, but he kept on making hay and storing it away just for fun. Then came cold weather and all the green things died. There was no food for Little Chief. He hunted and hunted, but there was nothing. Then because he was so hungry he began to nibble at his hay. It tasted good, very good indeed. It tasted almost as good as the fresh green things. Little Chief's heart gave a great leap. He had food in plenty! He had nothing to worry about, for his hay would last him until the green things came again, as come they would, he felt sure.

"And so it proved. And that is how Little Chief the Pika learned to make hay while the sun shone in the days of plenty. He taught his children and they taught their children, and Little Chief of today does it just as his great-great-ever-so-great-grand-daddy did. I don't see why you don't do the same thing, Peter. You would make me a great deal finer dinner if you did."

"Perhaps that is the reason I don't," replied Peter with a grin.

VI

WHERE GLUTTON THE WOLVERINE GOT HIS NAME

Glutton the Wolverine is a dweller in the depths of the Great Forests of the Far North, and it is doubtful if Peter Rabbit would ever have known that there is such a person but for his acquaintance with Honker the Goose, who spends his summers in the Far North, but each spring and fall stops over for a day or two in a little pond in the Green Forest, a pond Peter often visits. This acquaintance with Honker and Peter's everlasting curiosity have resulted in many strange stories. At least they have seemed strange to Peter because they have been about furred and feathered people whom Peter has never seen. And one of the strangest of these is the story of how Glutton the Wolverine got his name.

Of course you know what a glutton is. It is one who is very, very, very greedy and eats and eats as if eating were the only thing in life worth while. It is one who is all the time thinking of his stomach. No one likes to be called a glutton. So when Honker the Goose happened to mention Glutton, it caused Peter to prick up his ears at once.

"Who's a glutton?" he demanded.

"I didn't say any one was a glutton," replied Honker. "I was speaking of Glutton the Wolverine who lives in the Great Forests of the Far North, and whom everybody hates."

"Is Glutton his name?" asked Peter, wrinkling his brows in perplexity, for it seemed a very queer name for any one.

"Certainly," replied Honker. "Certainly that is his name, and a very good name for him it is. But then of course it is because he _is_ a glutton that he is named Glutton. Rather I should say that is the reason the first Wolverine was named Glutton. The name has been handed down ever since, and it fits Mr. Wolverine of today quite as well as ever it did his great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather."

"Tell me about it," Peter begged. "Please tell me about it."

"Tell you about what?" asked Honker, pretending not to understand.

"About how the first Wolverine got the name of Glutton," replied Peter promptly. "There must have been a very good reason, and if there was a very good reason, there must be a story. Please, Honker, tell me all about it."

Honker swam a little way out from shore, and with head held high and very still, he looked and listened and listened and looked until he was quite certain that no danger lurked near. Then he swam back to where Peter was sitting on the bank.

"Peter," said he, "I never in all my born days have seen such a fellow for questions as you are. If I lived about here, I think I should swim away every time I saw you coming. But as I only stop here for a day or two twice a year, I guess I can stand it. Besides, you really ought to know something about some of the people who live in the Great Forest. It is shameful, Peter, that you should be so ignorant. And so if you will promise not to ask for another story while I am here, I will tell you about Glutton the Wolverine."

Of course Peter promised. He wanted that story so much that he would have promised anything. So Honker told the story, and here it is just as Peter heard it.

"Once upon a time long, long, long ago, the first Wolverine was sent out to find a place for himself in the Great World just as every one else had been sent out. Old Mother Nature had told him that he was related to Mr. Weasel and Mr. Mink and Mr. Fisher and Mr. Skunk, but no one would have guessed it just to look at him. In fact, some of his new neighbors were inclined to think that he was related to Old King Bear. Certainly he looked more like King Bear than he did like little Mr. Weasel. But for his bushy tail he would have looked still more like a member of the Bear family. He was clumsy-looking. He was rather slow moving, but he was strong, very strong for his size. And he had a mean disposition. Yes, Sir, Mr. Wolverine had a mean disposition. He had such a mean disposition that he would snarl at his own reflection in a pool of water.

"Now you know as well as I do that no one with a mean disposition has any friends. It was so with Mr. Wolverine. When his neighbors found out what a mean disposition he had, they let him severely alone. They would go out of their way to avoid meeting him. This made his disposition all the meaner. He didn't really care because his neighbors would have nothing to do with him. No, he didn't really care, for the simple reason that he didn't want anything to do with them. But just the same it made him angry to have them show that they didn't want to have anything to do with him. Every time he would see one of them turn aside to avoid meeting him, he would snarl under his breath, and his eyes would glow with anger; he would resolve to get even.

"Being slow in his movements because of his stout build, he early realized that he must make nimble wits make up for the lack of nimble legs. He also learned very early in life that patience is a virtue few possess, and that patience and nimble wits will accomplish almost anything. So, living alone in the Great Forest, he practised patience until no one in all the Great World could be more patient than he. No one knew this because, you see, everybody kept away from him. And all the time he was practising patience, he was studying and studying the other people of the Great Forest, both large and small, learning all their habits, how they lived, where they lived, what they ate, and all about them.

"'One never knows when such knowledge may be useful,' he would say to himself. 'The more I know about other people and the less they know about me the better.'

"So Mr. Wolverine kept out of sight as much as possible, and none knew how he lived or where he lived or anything about him save that he had a mean disposition. Patiently he watched the other people, especially those of nimble wits who lived largely by their cunning and cleverness--Mr. Fox, Mr. Coyote, Mr. Lynx and his own cousins, Mr. Mink and Mr. Weasel. From each one he learned something, and at last he was more cunning and more clever than any of them or even than all of them, for that matter.

"Living alone as he did, and having a mean disposition, he grew more and more sullen and savage until those who at first had avoided him simply because of his mean disposition now kept out of his way through fear, for his claws were long and his strength was great and his teeth were sharp. It didn't take him long to discover that there were few who did not fear him, and he cunningly contrived to increase this fear, for he had a feeling that the time might come when it would be of use to him.

"The time did come. As you know, there came a time when food was scarce, and everybody, or almost everybody, had hard work to get enough to keep alive. Mr. Wolverine didn't. The fact is, Mr. Wolverine lived very well indeed. He simply reaped the reward of his patience in learning all about the ways of his neighbors, of his nimble wits and of the fear which he inspired. Instead of hunting for food himself, he depended on his neighbors to hunt for him. They didn't know they were hunting for him, but somehow whenever one of them had secured a good meal, Mr. Wolverine was almost sure to happen along. A growl from him was enough, and that meal was left in his possession.

"Knowing how scarce food was and the uncertainty of when he would get the next meal, Mr. Wolverine always made it a point on these occasions to stuff himself until it was a wonder his skin didn't burst. If there was more than he could eat, he would take a nap right there, and because of fear of him the rightful owner of the food would not dare take what was left. When he awoke Mr. Wolverine would finish what remained.

"Those who secured more food than they could eat and tried to store away the rest found that no matter how cunningly they chose a hiding-place for it and covered their tracks, Mr. Wolverine was sure to find it. In fact, he made a business of robbing storehouses, and the habit of greediness became so strong that he would stuff himself at one storehouse and immediately start for another. When it did happen that he couldn't eat all he found and yet didn't want to stay until he could finish it, he would tear to bits all that remained and scatter it all about. You know I told you he had a mean disposition.

"Even when good times returned and there was no possible excuse for such greed, Mr. Wolverine continued to stuff himself until it seemed that instead of eating in order to live, as the rest of us do, he lived in order to eat. Of course it wasn't long before some one called him a glutton, and presently he was named Glutton, and no one called him anything else. Glutton by name and a glutton in habit he remained as long as he lived. Both name and habits he handed down to his children and they to their children. So it is that today there is no more cunning thief, no greedier rascal, and no one with a meaner disposition in all the Great Woods of the Far North than Glutton the Wolverine."

"Queer how a habit will stick, isn't it?" said Peter thoughtfully.

"Particularly a bad habit," added Honker.

VII

WHERE OLD MRS. 'GATOR MADE THE FIRST INCUBATOR

Peter Rabbit and Mrs. Quack the Mallard Duck are great friends. They have been great friends ever since Peter tried to help Mrs. Quack when she and Mr. Quack had spent a whole summer on a little pond hidden deep in the Green Forest because Mr. Quack had a broken wing and so he and Mrs. Quack simply couldn't keep on to their home in the Far North for which they had started. During that long summer Peter had become very well acquainted with them. In fact he visited them very often, for as you know, Peter is simply brimming over with curiosity, and there were wonderful things which Mr. and Mrs. Quack could tell him, for they are great travelers.

Now once, as Mrs. Quack was telling Peter about the far-away Southland where she and Mr. Quack and many other birds spend each winter, she mentioned Old Ally the 'Gator. People who live where he does call him just 'Gator, but you and I would call him Alligator.

At the mention of Old Ally, all Peter's curiosity was awakened, for Mrs. Quack had said that foolish young ducks sometimes mistook him for an old log floating in the water and didn't find out the difference until his great mouth flew open and he swallowed them whole. At that Peter's eyes threatened to pop right out of his head and every time he visited that little pond he pestered Mrs. Quack with questions about Old Ally the 'Gator and Mrs. 'Gator. It seemed as if he couldn't think of anything else. And when Mrs. Quack just happened to mention that little 'Gators are hatched from eggs just as her own children are, it was almost too much for Peter to believe.

"What?" he squealed, hopping up and down in excitement. "Do you mean to tell me that anything as big as Old Ally, big enough to swallow you whole, can come from an egg? I don't believe it! Besides, only birds lay eggs."

"Quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, Peter, you must take that back!"

cried Mrs. Quack.

"Why must I take it back?" demanded Peter.

"Because as usual you've let your tongue run loose, and that is a bad habit, Peter. It certainly is a bad habit. How about the Snake family?"

"Oh!" said Peter, looking very foolish. "I forgot all about the Snakes. They do lay eggs."

"And how about Spotty the Turtle? Didn't he come from an egg?" persisted Mrs. Quack.

Peter looked more foolish than before, if that were possible. "Y-e-s," he replied slowly and reluctantly.

"Then don't be so quick to doubt a thing just because you've never seen it," retorted Mrs. Quack. "I've seen Mrs. 'Gator build her nest more than once, and I've seen her eggs, and I've seen the baby 'Gators; and what is more, I'm not in the habit of telling things that I don't know are so."

"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Quack." Peter was very humble. "I do indeed. Please forgive me. Is--is Mrs. 'Gator's nest at all like yours?"

Peter seemed so truly sorry for having doubted her that Mrs. Quack recovered her good nature at once. "No," said she, "it isn't. If I hadn't seen her make it, I wouldn't have known it was a nest. You see, one spring I got hurt so that I couldn't take my usual long journey to the Far North and had to spend the summer way down in the Southland where I always lived in the winter, and that is how I happened to learn about Mrs. 'Gator's nest and eggs and a lot of other things. Mrs. 'Gator is lazy, but she is smart. She's smart enough to make Mr. Sun do her work. What do you think of that?"

Right away Peter was all excitement. You see, that sounded as if there might be a story behind it. "I never have heard of such a thing!" he cried. "How did she learn to do such a smart thing as that? Of course I don't for a minute believe that she herself discovered a way to get Mr. Sun to work for her. Probably it was her ever-so-great-grandmother who first did it. Isn't that so, Mrs. Quack?"

Mrs. Quack nodded. "You've guessed it, Peter," said she. "It all happened way, way back in the days when the world was young."

"Tell me about it! Please, please tell me about it, Mrs. Quack, and the first chance I get, I'll do something for you," begged Peter.

Mrs. Quack carefully went over all her feathers to see that every one was in place, for she is very particular about how she looks. When she was quite satisfied, she turned to Peter, fidgeting on the bank.

"Way back in the days when the world was young," said she, "Old Mother Nature made the first Alligators before she made the first birds, or the first animals, so Old Ally and Mrs. 'Gator, who live way down south now, belong to a very old family and are proud of it. In the beginning of things there was very little dry land, as you may have heard, so old Mr. and Mrs. 'Gator, who of course were not old then, were made to live in the water with the fish. Old Mother Nature was experimenting then. She was planning to make a great deal more land, and she wanted living creatures on it, so she gave the 'Gators legs and feet instead of fins, and lungs to breathe air instead of gills for breathing in the water as fish do. Then, having many other things to attend to, she told them they would have to take care of themselves, and went about her business.

"It didn't take Mr. and Mrs. 'Gator long to discover that their legs were not of much use in the water, for they used their powerful tails for swimming. Then one day Mrs. 'Gator crawled out on land and right away discovered what those legs were for. She could go on dry land while fishes could not. It didn't take her long to find out that nothing was quite so fine as a sun-bath, as she lay stretched out on the bank, so she and Mr. 'Gator spent most of their time on sunny days taking sun-baths.

"One day Old Mother Nature came along and whispered a wonderful secret to Mrs. 'Gator. 'I am going to give you some eggs,' whispered Old Mother Nature, 'some eggs of your very own, and if you watch over them and keep them warm, out of each one a baby 'Gator will some day creep. But if you let those eggs get cold, there will be no babies. Don't forget that you must keep them warm.'

"Old Mother Nature was as good as her word. She gave Mrs. 'Gator twenty beautiful white eggs, and Mrs. 'Gator was perfectly happy. Those eggs were the most precious things in all the Great World. It seemed as if she never would grow tired of looking at them and admiring them and of dreaming of the day when her babies should come out of them. It was very pleasant to lie there in the sun and dream of the babies to come from those wonderful eggs. Suddenly, right into the midst of those pleasant dreams, broke the memory of what Old Mother Nature had said about keeping those eggs warm. All in a twinkling happiness was turned to worry.

"'What can I do? What can I do?' Mrs. 'Gator kept saying over and over. 'However can I keep them warm when Mr. Sun goes to bed at night? Oh, dear! Oh, dear! My beautiful eggs never, never will turn to darling babies! What can I do?'

"All this time Mr. 'Gator was a great deal more interested in making himself comfortable than he was in those eggs. He had picked out a place where all day long Mr. Sun poured down his warmest rays, and he had dug a place to sprawl out in comfortably. The sand he had thrown in a pile at one side. When Mrs. 'Gator went to consult Mr. 'Gator about those precious eggs and her worries when the cool of evening had come, she happened to put one foot in that loose pile of sand, and she found that while the sand on the outside was already cool, that down inside the pile was still warm. A clever idea came to her like a flash.

"First she sent Mr. 'Gator into the water to get his supper. Then she scooped a hole in that pile of warm sand, and in it she put her precious eggs and carefully covered them up with sand. When this was done she stretched out close by to keep watch and see that nothing disturbed those treasures. That was a very anxious night for Mrs. 'Gator. The sand on which she lay grew very cool. When at last day came and Mr. Sun once more began to shine, she opened that pile of sand and great was her joy to find that inside it was still warm. When Mr. 'Gator came crawling out of the water to spend the day in that comfortable bed he had dug, she chased him away and was so cross that he went off grumbling and dug another bed. Mrs. 'Gator waited until Mr. Sun had made the sand very warm indeed, and then she made a great mound of it, and in the middle of it were her precious eggs. Night and day she kept guard, and all the time she worried lest those eggs should not be warm enough. Then one day twenty baby 'Gators dug their way out of that mound of sand. Yes, Sir, they did.

"All this happened long, long ago when the world was young, and ever since then 'Gators have lived only way down south, where it is very warm and where Mr. Sun will hatch their eggs for them. And today it is done just as I've told you, for I've seen with my own eyes Mrs. 'Gator build her nest, cover her eggs, and then lie around while Mr. Sun did the work for her. What do you think of that?"

"I think that if you hadn't told me that you had seen it with your own eyes, Mrs. Quack, I should think it a fairy story," replied Peter.

VIII

WHERE MR. QUACK GOT HIS WEBBED FEET

Twice every year, in the early spring and in the late fall, Peter Rabbit watches the Smiling Pool with a great deal of eagerness. Can you guess why? It is because two very good friends of Peter's are in the habit of stopping there for a few days for rest and refreshment before continuing the long journey which they are obliged to make. They are Mr. and Mrs. Quack, the Mallard Ducks. Peter is very fond of them, and when the time for their arrival draws near, Peter watches for them with a great deal of anxiety. You see they have told him something of the terrible dangers which they always encounter on these long journeys, and so Peter is always afraid that something terrible may have happened to them, and it is a great relief when he finds them swimming about in the Smiling Pool.

One reason Peter is so fond of Mr. and Mrs. Quack is because they always have a story for him. Sometimes it is a story of adventure, a tale of terrible danger and narrow escapes. Sometimes it is about their home in the far Northland, and again it is about the wonderful Southland where they spend the winter. But the story that Peter likes best is the one about where and how the Quack family got their funny, webbed feet. Mr. Quack doesn't think those feet funny at all, but Peter does. He never grows tired of watching Mr. and Mrs. Quack use them, because, you know, they are used so differently from other feet. And always he goes back to the dear Old Briar-patch with renewed admiration for the wisdom of Old Mother Nature.

Peter noticed those feet the first time he met Mr. and Mrs. Quack. He couldn't help but notice them. It happened that Mr. and Mrs. Quack were out on the bank of the Smiling Pool as Peter came hurrying over in his usual way, lipperty-lipperty-lip. They heard him coming and not knowing at first who it was they at once started for the water. Peter never will forget the funny way in which they waddled. He never had seen anybody quite so awkward. But when they reached the water he forgot to laugh. He simply stared open-mouthed in astonishment. You see there they were as graceful as they had been awkward on land. Afterward, when Peter had become acquainted with them and they were the best of friends, he ventured to speak of their queer feet.

"Do you know," said he, "you have the most interesting feet of anybody I know of. They are so broad that the first time I saw them I couldn't believe my own eyes. I didn't suppose anybody had such broad feet. I suppose there is some special reason why they are so broad and why your legs are so short. Do you know how Mother Nature happened to give you feet so different from the feet of other birds, Mr. Quack?"

Mr. Quack chuckled. "I tell you what it is, Peter," said he, "if you'll tell me why it is you have such long hind legs and such a funny short tail, I'll tell you why it is that Mrs. Quack and I have such broad feet, though I must confess that I don't see anything odd about them."

Peter agreed at once. He told Mr. and Mrs. Quack all about what happened to his grandfather a thousand times removed, the very first Rabbit, way back when the world was young, and how ever since then all Rabbits have had long hind legs and short tails. When he had finished Mr. Quack thoughtfully scratched his handsome green head, looked at his reflection in the Smiling Pool to make sure that he was looking his very best, looked behind to see that the feathers in the tip of his tail had the proper curl, and then gazed off over the Green Meadows with a far-away look in his eyes as if he were looking way back to the time he was to tell about. At last, just as Peter Rabbit was beginning to lose patience Mr. Quack began.