Chapter 4

"It must be, Peter," said he, "that my great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather lived just about the same time as your great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather, way back in the days when the world was young. Perhaps they knew each other. Perhaps they were acquainted just as you and I are now. Anyway, according to what has been handed down in the family, Grandfather Quack was very much such a looking fellow as I am now, except in the matter of his bill and feet. His bill was not broad like mine but more like the bills of other birds, and his feet were like the feet of Mr. Grouse and Bob White. They were made for scratching, and there was nothing between the toes. You see, Old Mother Nature was experimenting. She made everybody a little different from everybody else and then started them forth in the Great World to shift for themselves and to find out what they really needed that they hadn't got.

"Old Mr. Quack, my great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather, soon discovered one thing, and that was that his legs were too short for him to get around very fast. When he walked, everybody laughed at him. When he tried to run, they laughed harder than ever. He didn't mind this so very much, though he did a little. Nobody likes to be laughed at, especially when it is because of something they cannot help. But what he did mind was the fact that his neighbors could run about so much faster than he that they got all the best of the food, and quite often he went hungry.

"One day he happened to be sitting on the bank of the Smiling Pool, thinking the matter over and wondering what he had best do, when Mr. Fox stole up behind him and startled him so that he lost his balance and tumbled down the bank into the water. This frightened him more than ever, and he flapped about and squawked and squawked and flapped until Mr. Fox nearly split his sides laughing at him. And when he was quite out of breath, Mr. Quack discovered that he was making all this fuss for nothing. He didn't sink, but floated on the water, and what was more the water didn't get under his feathers at all. When he tried to walk, of course he couldn't, and he had a funny feeling because his feet didn't touch anything and felt so very useless. But he kept moving them back and forth, and pretty soon he discovered that he moved ahead. Of course he moved very slowly, because his feet were not made for use in the water, but he moved, and that was enough. He knew then that he could get back to land. Then he tried his wings and he found that he could rise into the air from the water quite as easily as from the land. Right then and there all fear of the water left him. In fact, he liked it.

"Little by little, Grandfather Quack began to understand that he had made a great discovery. He had discovered the safest place in all the Great World for him. Out on the water he was safe from Mr. Fox and Mr. Wolf and all the other four-footed hunters. So he took to spending most of his time on the water or near it. When he wanted a nap, he would hide among the rushes that grew in the water. 'If only I didn't have to leave the water for food!' sighed Grandfather Quack. 'If only I could find food here, I would never leave the water.'

"At the time he was squatting at the very edge of the Smiling Pool. Presently he noticed a funny water bug crawling on the bottom where the water was only an inch or two deep. 'I wonder if that fellow is good to eat,' thought he, and almost without thinking he plunged his head under water and caught the bug. It was good. Grandfather Quack at once started to look for more, and while doing this he discovered that there were a great many seeds from the rushes scattered about in the mud at the bottom of the Smiling Pool, and that these also were good to eat. Then quite by accident he got hold of a tender root in the mud and found that this was especially good.

"This was enough for Grandfather Quack. He had found that he could get plenty to eat without leaving the Smiling Pool. Moreover, he didn't have to share it with anybody, because there was no one else who thought of looking for food there. He knew when he was well off. So Grandfather Quack grew fat and was happy. The only things that bothered him were the slowness with which he had to pick up seeds, one at a time, and the slowness with which he could paddle about, for you couldn't really call it swimming. But in spite of these things he was happy and made the best of his lot.

"One day he tugged and tugged at a root with his head under water. When at last he had to bring his head up for a breath, whom should he discover but Old Mother Nature watching him from the opposite bank. 'Come over here, Mr. Quack, and tell me all about it,' she commanded.

"Grandfather Quack started across the Smiling Pool, but because his feet were not made for swimming, it took him a long time to get there. Old Mother Nature smiled as she watched him. 'You look better on the water than you do on land,' said she. 'In fact, I believe that is just where you belong. Now tell me how you happened to take to the water.'

"Grandfather Quack told her the whole story and how Old Mother Nature did laugh when he described how frightened he was when he fell in that time. Suddenly she reached out and caught him by the bill. 'I don't think much of that bill for poking about in the mud,' said she. 'How will this do?' She let go, and Grandfather Quack found he had a broad bill just suited for getting food out of the mud. Then Old Mother Nature bade him hold forth first one foot and then the other. Between the toes she stretched a tough skin clear to the toe nails. 'Now let me see you swim,' said she.

"Grandfather Quack tried. He kicked one foot and then the other, and to his great joy he shot along swiftly. When he drew his feet back for another kick his toes closed together, and so his feet came through the water easily. But when he kicked back they were wide spread, and the skin between them pushed against the water, and drove him ahead. It was wonderful! It was splendid! He hurried over to Old Mother Nature, and with tears of joy in his eyes he thanked her. And from that day to this members of my family have had the same broad bills and webbed feet, and have lived on the water," concluded Mr. Quack.

IX

WHERE THUNDERFOOT THE BISON GOT HIS HUMP

Thunderfoot the Bison, often called Buffalo, is not a handsome fellow, as you very well know if you have seen him or a picture of him. His head is carried low, very near the ground, and on his shoulders is a great hump. No, you wouldn't call him handsome. You would hardly call him good-looking even. In fact, you would, I suspect, call him homely. Certainly there is nothing about him to suggest pride. Yet according to the story Digger the Badger once told Peter Rabbit, pride and nothing less was the cause of that big hump which makes Thunderfoot appear so clumsy and homely.

Peter Rabbit, as you know, is very fond of stories. In this respect he is very like some other folks I know. Anyway, he never misses a chance for a story if he can help it. He had discovered that Digger the Badger and Old Man Coyote, both of whom had come to the Green Meadows from the Far West, were full of stories about their neighbors of the distant prairies, folk whom Peter never had seen. Sometimes when he had nothing else to do, Old Man Coyote would come over to the dear Old Briar-patch and tell stories to Peter, who sat safe behind the brambles. Perhaps Old Man Coyote hoped that Peter would become so interested that he would forget and come out of the dear Old Briar-patch. But Peter never did.

But most of the stories of the people of the Far West Peter got from Digger the Badger because, you see, he wasn't afraid to go beg for them. He knew that Digger couldn't catch him if he wanted to, and so when Grandfather Frog hadn't a story for him, Peter would go tease Digger for one. It was thus that he heard about Thunderfoot the Bison and where he got that great hump of his.

"I don't suppose," said Peter, "that there are any very big people out there on those prairies where you used to live any more than there are here on the Green Meadows. All the very big people seem to prefer to live in the Green Forest."

"It is that way now, I must admit," said Digger the Badger, "but it wasn't so in the old days, in the good old days when there were no terrible guns, and Thunderfoot and his followers shook the ground with their feet." Digger shook his head sadly.

Instantly Peter pricked up his ears. "Who was Thunderfoot?" he demanded.

Digger looked at Peter with such a look of pity for Peter's ignorance that Peter felt almost ashamed. "He doesn't live here and never did, so far as I have heard, so how should I know anything about him?" he added a wee bit defiantly.

"If that's the case," replied Digger, "it is time you learned about the Lord of the Prairies."

"But I want to know about Thunderfoot first!" cried Peter. "You can tell me about the Lord of the Prairies another time."

"Were you born stupid or have you grown so?" asked Digger impatiently. Then without waiting for an answer he added: "Thunderfoot was the Lord of the Prairies. He ruled over the Wide Prairies just as Old King Bear ruled in the Green Forest. He ruled by might. He ruled because no one dared deny him the right to rule. He ruled because of his great size and his great strength. And all who lived on the Wide Prairies looked up to him and admired him and bowed before him and paid him the utmost respect. When he and his followers ran the earth shook, and the noise was like thunder, and everybody hastened to get out of the way and to warn his neighbors, crying: 'Here comes my Lord of the Prairies! Make way! Make way!' And truly Thunderfoot and his followers were a magnificent sight, so my great-grandfather told me, and he had it from his great-grandfather, who was told so by his great-grandfather, who saw it all with his own eyes. But that was in the days before Thunderfoot's head was brought low, and he was given the great hump which none of his descendants have ever been able to get rid of."

"Tell me about that hump and where my Lord of the Prairies, Thunderfoot the Bison, got it!" begged Peter, with shining eyes. That there was a story he hadn't the least doubt.

Digger the Badger flattened himself out on the ground, and into his eyes crept a dreamy, far-away look as if he were seeing things a great, great way off. "Way back In the days when the world was young, so my great-grandfather said," he began, "Thunderfoot, the first Bison, was given the Wide Prairies for a kingdom by Old Mother Nature and strode forth to take possession. Big was he, the biggest of all living creatures thereabouts. Strong was he with a strength none cared to test. And he was handsome. He held his head proudly. All who lived on the Wide Prairies admired him with a great admiration and hastened to pay homage to him.

"For a long time he ruled wisely. All the other people brought their disputes to him to be settled, and so wisely did he decide them that the fame of his wisdom spread even beyond the Wide Prairies and was talked about in the Green Forest. The humblest of his subjects could come to him freely and be sure of a hearing and that justice would be done. Big as he was and mighty as he was, he took the greatest care never to forget the rights of others.

"But there came a time when flattery turned his head, as the saying is. Mr. Coyote and Mr. Fox were the chief flatterers, and in all the Great World there were no smoother tongues than theirs. They never lost an opportunity to tell him how handsome he was, and how mighty he was, and how they admired him and looked up to him, and how unequaled was his wisdom. You see, being themselves dishonest and mischief-makers, they frequently were in trouble with their neighbors and would have to appear before Thunderfoot for judgment. Even when it went against them they praised the wisdom of it, admitting that they were in the wrong and begging forgiveness, all of which was very flattering to Thunderfoot.

"Little by little, without knowing it, he yielded to the flattery of Mr. Coyote and Mr. Fox. He liked to hear the pleasant things they said. Little by little it became easier to find them in the right than in the wrong when they were accused of wronging their neighbors. Of course they flattered him still more. They hinted to him that it was beneath the dignity of one so big and strong and handsome to take notice of the very small and humble people like Mr. Meadow Mouse and Mr. Toad and Mr. Meadow Lark and others of his subjects.

"Gradually the little people of the Wide Prairies began to notice a change in Thunderfoot. He became proud and vain. He openly boasted of his strength and fine appearance. When he met them he passed them haughtily, not seeing them at all, or at least appearing not to. No longer did he regard the rights of others. No longer did he watch out not to crush the nest of Mrs. Meadow Lark or to step on the babies of Danny Meadow Mouse. It came about that when the thunder of his feet was heard, those with homes on the ground shivered with fright and hoped that my Lord of the Prairies would not come their way.

"One day, as he raced over the Wide Prairies for no reason but that he felt like running, Mr. Meadow Lark flew to meet him. Mr. Meadow Lark was in great distress. 'Turn aside, my Lord!' he begged. 'Turn aside, my Lord of the Prairies, for before you lies my nest with four precious eggs, and I fear you will step on them!'

"Thunderfoot the Bison, Lord of the Wide Prairies, tossed his head. 'If you will build your nest where it can be trodden on, you can't expect me to look out for it,' said he. 'If anything so unfortunate happens to it, it is your own fault, and you mustn't blame me.' And he neither looked down to see where he was putting his feet nor turned aside so much as an inch. On he galloped, and presently with a cry of fright out from beneath his feet flew Mrs. Meadow Lark, and at the very next step he trod on the little nest in the grass and crushed the four eggs.

"Mr. Coyote, who was racing beside him on one side and saw what had happened, grinned. Mr. Fox, who was racing beside him on the other side and saw what had happened, grinned. Seeing them grin, Thunderfoot himself grinned. Thus grinning heartlessly, they continued to run until they came to a place where Mother Nature walked among the flowers of the Wide Prairies. Mr. Coyote and Mr. Fox, whose heads were not held so high, saw her in time to put their tails between their legs and slink away. Thunderfoot, holding his head high, failed to see her until he was so close to her that it was with difficulty he stopped before running her down.

"'My Lord of the Prairies seems in fine spirits,' said Mother Nature softly. 'Is all well with my Lord?'

"Thunderfoot tossed his head proudly. 'All is well,' said he.

"'I am sorry that others cannot say as much,' replied Mother Nature, and all the softness was gone from her voice, and it was sharp. 'I seem to hear the sobs of a broken-hearted little Meadow Lark,' she continued. 'Little though she be and humble, she is as much to me as is my Lord of the Prairies who has made her suffer.'

"Stooping swiftly, Mother Nature picked up her staff and with it struck Thunderfoot on the neck, so that his head was brought low, and in fear of another blow he humped his shoulders up. 'Thus shall you be, still big, still strong, but hump-shouldered and carrying your head low in shame, no longer Lord of the Prairies, until such time as you restore to Mrs. Meadow Lark the eggs you destroyed,' said she, and turned her back on him.

"It was so. From that day on, Thunderfoot ceased to rule over the Wide Prairies. He was hump-shouldered and he carried his head low, looking and looking for the eggs he never could find to restore to Mrs. Meadow Lark. And though his children and his children's children became many, there never was one without the hump or who ceased to carry his head low in shame," concluded Digger the Badger.

X

WHERE LIMBERHEELS GOT HIS LONG TAIL.

Have you ever seen Limberheels the Jumping Mouse when he was in a hurry? If you have, very likely the first time you felt very much as Peter Rabbit did when he saw Limberheels for the first time. He was hopping along across the Green Meadows with nothing much on his mind when from right under his wobbly nose something shot into the air over the tops of the grasses for eight or ten feet and then down and out of sight. Peter rubbed his eyes.

"Did I see it, or didn't I? And if I did, what was it?" gasped Peter.

A squeaky little laugh answered him. "You saw it all right, Peter, but it isn't polite to call any one it. He would be quite provoked if he had heard you. That was my cousin, Limberheels," replied a voice quite as squeaky as the laugh had been.

Peter turned to see the bright eyes of Danny Meadow Mouse twinkling at him from the entrance to a tiny little path that joined the bigger path in which Peter was sitting.

"Hello, Danny!" he exclaimed. "Do you mean to tell me that was a relative of yours? Since when have any of your relatives taken to flying?"

Danny chuckled. "He wasn't flying," he retorted. "He just jumped, that was all." Danny chuckled again, for he knows that Peter considers himself quite a jumper and is inclined to be a bit jealous of any one else who pretends to jump save his cousin, Jumper the Hare.

"Jumped!" snorted Peter. "Jumped! Do you expect me to believe that any Mouse can jump like that? I didn't get a good look at that fellow, but whoever he is I tell you he flew. Nobody can jump like that."

Danny chuckled again. "Wait a minute, Peter," said he. He disappeared, and Peter waited. He waited one minute, two minutes, three minutes, and then suddenly Danny poked his head out from the grass beside the path. "Here he is, Peter," said he, coming wholly out into the path. "Let me introduce my cousin, Limberheels."

As he spoke the grass beside him rustled, and out crept some one beside whom Danny Meadow Mouse looked big, clumsy and homely. One glance was enough to tell Peter that the stranger was a sure-enough member of the Mouse family, but such a member as he never had seen before. He was trim and slender. He wore a reddish-brown coat with a white waistcoat. But the things that made Peter stare very impolitely were his tail and his legs. His tail was nearly twice as long as his body, slim and tapering, and his hind legs were very long, while his fore legs were short. It took only one glance to convince Peter that here was a born jumper. Any one built like that _must_ jump.

"You two must become acquainted and be friends," continued Danny Meadow Mouse. "Peter is one of my best friends, Limberheels. He wouldn't hurt a flea. I'm sure that from now on he will be one of your best friends."

"I'll be happy to," said Peter promptly. "Danny has been telling me what a wonderful jumper you are. Would you mind showing me how you jump? I guess you jumped right in front of me a few minutes ago, but I was so surprised that I didn't really see you."

"I guess I did," replied Limberheels rather timidly. "You see, I didn't hear you coming until you were almost on top of me, and then I didn't know who it was so I got away as quickly as I could. I'll be ever so glad to have you for a friend and next time I won't run away."

"Show him how you can jump," interrupted Danny Meadow Mouse. "He wouldn't believe me when I told him that you didn't fly."

Limberheels grinned rather sheepishly. "Of course I didn't fly," said he. "No animal can fly but Flitter the Bat. I just jumped like this."

With a tremendous spring from his long hind legs Limberheels leaped, while Peter Rabbit stared, his mouth wide open with astonishment. He hadn't dreamed that any one could jump so far in proportion to his size as this slim, trim little cousin of Danny's. Later, after Limberheels had jumped for Peter's benefit until he was tired and had gone to hunt for a lunch of grass seeds, Peter wanted to know all about Limberheels.

"Never in my life have I seen such jumping," he declared. "And never have I seen such a tail. I thought Whitefoot the Wood Mouse had a fine tail, but it doesn't compare with that of Limberheels."

"It is a fine tail," replied Danny, whose own tail, as you know, is very short.

"It is a fine tail," he repeated rather wistfully. "Would you like to hear where he got it?"

"I know," retorted Peter with a grin. "He got it from his father, who got it from his father, and so on way back to the days when the world was young." Then, seeing a look of disappointment on Danny's face, and eager for a story as usual, he added: "But I would like to know how such a tail as that came in the family."

Danny brightened up at once. "It's funny how things come about in this world," he began. "The great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather of Limberheels, the first one, you know, was quite an ordinary Mouse when Old Mother Nature made him and started him out to make his way in the Great World. He was little, one of the smallest of the family, and his tail was short, no longer than mine. His hind legs were like those of all his relatives. He ran about just as his relatives did. He was so small and kept out of sight so much that he didn't even have a name. There was nothing about him to suggest a name.

"For a long time he was contented and happy. Then one day he happened to see Mr. Hare jump. It seemed to him the most wonderful thing in the world that any one should be able to jump like that. So he began to spend most of his spare time where he could watch Mr. Hare. One day Old Mother Nature happened along unseen by him, as he was watching Mr. Hare jump, and she overheard him say very, very wistfully, 'How I wish I could jump like that! I wish I had long hind legs like Mr. Hare.'

"Old Mother Nature's kindly eyes twinkled. 'That's easily arranged,' said she. 'If you think long hind legs will be of more use to you than the ones you have, you shall have them.'

"The next morning when little Mr. Mouse awoke, he discovered that in the night something had happened to his hind legs. They were very long and strong, regular jumping legs like those of Mr. Hare. Of course he was in such a great hurry to try them that he couldn't wait for his breakfast. He began by making little short hops, and in no time at all he was getting about splendidly. At last he got up his courage to try a long jump. Up in the air he shot, and then something happened. Yes, Sir, something happened. He couldn't kept his balance. He turned two or three somersaults and landed on his back.

"'I guess,' said he to himself, 'I've got to _learn_ to make long jumps.' So he kept trying and trying, but always with the same result--he never knew when, where, or how he was going to land. As long as he made short jumps he had no trouble, but every time he tried a long jump he lost his balance, and try as he would he couldn't discover why. So at last he gave up trying and contented himself with short jumps. Finally Old Mother Nature came that way again.

"'How do you like your long hind legs?' she asked.

"'Very much, thank you,' replied little Mr. Mouse politely.

"'Let me see you jump,' said Old Mother Nature.

"Little Mr. Mouse made half a dozen little jumps. They were not much more than hops. 'You don't call that jumping, do you?' laughed Old Mother Nature. 'With such long, strong legs as I've given you, you ought to be one of the best jumpers anywhere about. Now let me see you make a long jump.'