Part 6

Chickamy Crany Crow and Tickle-My-Toes had stopped frolicking, and were now listening to the stories. While Mrs. Meadows was telling about the lucky conjurer, Tickle-My-Toes became very uneasy. He moved about restlessly, pulled off his big straw hat, put it on again, and seemed to be waiting impatiently for the time to come when he might say something.

So, when Mrs. Meadows had finished, she looked at Tickle-My-Toes to see what he wanted. The rest did the same. But Tickle-My-Toes blushed very red, and looked at his feet.

“You acted as if you wanted to say something,” said Mrs. Meadows, “and if you do, now’s your chance. What’s the matter? Have you run a splinter in your foot? You look as if you wanted to cry.”

“I did want to say something,” replied Tickle-My-Toes.

“What was it?” Mrs. Meadows inquired.

“Nothing much,” answered Tickle-My-Toes, putting his finger in his mouth.

“I declare, I’m ashamed of you,” exclaimed Mrs. Meadows. “Here you are mighty near as old as I am, and yet trying to play boo-hoo baby.”

“I don’t think you ought to talk that way,” said Tickle-My-Toes. “I thread your needles for you every day, and I do everything you ask me.”

“I know what’s the matter with you,” remarked Mrs. Meadows. “You want me to take you in my lap and rock you to sleep.”

“Oh! I don’t!” cried Tickle-My-Toes, blushing again. “I wanted to tell a story I heard, but I’ll go off somewhere and tell it to myself.”

“There wouldn’t be any fun in that,” suggested Buster John.

“No,” said Mrs. Meadows. “Tell the story right here, so we can enjoy it with you.”

“You’ll laugh,” protested Tickle-My-Toes.

“Not unless there’s something in the story to laugh at.”

“This is no laughing story. It’s just as solemn as it can be,” explained Tickle-My-Toes.

“Good!” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit. “If there’s anything I like, it is one of those solemn stories that make you feel like you want to go off behind the house and shake hands with yourself, and cry boo-hoo to the ell-and-yard and seven stars.”

Mr. Rabbit’s enthusiastic remark was very encouraging to Tickle-My-Toes, who, after scratching his head a little, and looking around to see if he could find a place to hide when the time came, began his story in this wise:—

“Once upon a time, and in a big town away off yonder somewhere, there lived a little boy who had no father nor mother. He was so small that nobody seemed to care anything about him. But one day a woman, the wife of a baker, heard him crying in the streets, and carried him into the house, and gave him something to eat, and warmed him by the fire, and after that he felt better.

“The baker himself grumbled a great deal when he came home and found what his wife had done. He said he wouldn’t be surprised to come home some day and find his house full of other people’s children. But his wife replied that it would be well enough to complain when he found the house full. As for this little brat, she said, he wouldn’t fill a milk jar if he was put in it, much less a great big house.

“The baker growled and grumbled, but his wife paid no attention to him. She sat in her chair and rocked and sang, and was just as good-natured as she could be. After a while the baker himself got over his grumbling, and began to laugh. He told his wife that he had sold all his bread that day, and had orders for as much the next day.

“‘Of course,’ said she; ‘but if I had left that child crying in the streets your business would have been ruined before the year is out.’

“‘Maybe so,’ replied the baker.

“Well, the little boy grew very fast, and was as lively as a cricket. The baker’s wife thought as much of him as if he had been her own son, and the baker himself soon came to be very fond of him. He was very smart, too. He learned to watch the fire under the big oven, and to make himself useful in many ways. He played about the oven so much, and was so fond of watching the bread bake and the fire burn, that the baker’s wife called him Sparkle Spry.

“For many years the country where the baker and his wife and Sparkle Spry lived had been at peace with all the other countries. But one day a man from a neighboring country had his nose pulled by somebody in the baker’s country, and then war was declared by the kings and queens, and the people fell to fighting.

“Now, when people fight they must be fed, and the cheapest thing to feed them on is bread. A part of the army camped near the town where the baker lived, and there was a great demand for bread. The baker’s oven was not a large one, and by running it day and night he could only bake three hundred loaves.

“He and his wife baked until they were tired out. They told Sparkle Spry to watch the oven so that the bread wouldn’t burn, and to wake them when it was brown. They were so tired that Sparkle Spry was sorry for them, and he wondered why he wasn’t big enough to take their places, if only for one day and night. While he was thinking and wishing, he saw something moving. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, and then he saw an old man, no bigger than a broomstick, and no taller than a teacup, peeping from behind the oven.

“‘Are they all gone?’ he whispered, coming forward a little way.

“‘All who?’ asked Sparkle Spry.

“‘The old ones—the big man and the fat woman.’

“‘They have gone to bed,’ said Sparkle Spry. ‘I can call them!’

“‘No, no,’ cried the old man. ‘They are such fools! They don’t know what is good for them. I have been waiting for years to get a chance to show them how to bake bread. Once I showed myself to the man, and he thought I was a snake; once to the woman, and she thought I was a rat. What fools they are!’

“‘Who are you?’ inquired Sparkle Spry. He didn’t like to hear his friends abused.

“‘Who—me? I’m the King of the Clinkers—twice plunged in the water and twice burned in the fire.’

“‘Well, to-night you can bake all the bread you want to,’ said Sparkle Spry. ‘The baker and his wife have been trying to supply the army that is camped here, but their oven is too small. They have worked until they can work no longer, and now they have gone to bed to rest.’

“‘Good!’ cried the King of the Clinkers. ‘Shut the door, so they can’t hear us! I’ll show them a thing or two about baking bread.’

“Then he walked close to the hot oven, tapped on it with a little poker that he carried in his belt, and called out: ‘Wake up! Get out! Come on! Hurry up! We’ve no time to lose! Show yourselves! Stir about! Be lively!’

“With that, hundreds of little men swarmed out of the ash heap behind the oven, some of them sneezing and some rubbing their eyes, but all jumping about with motions as quick as those of a flea when he jumps.”

“Oh, please don’t talk about fleas,” pleaded Mr. Rabbit, shuddering and scratching himself behind the ear. “It makes the cold chills run up my back. I never hear ’em named but I think I can feel ’em crawling on me.”

“Anyhow, that’s the way the little men jumped about,” said Tickle-My-Toes, resuming his story. “They swarmed in and out of the oven, hot as it was; they swarmed in and out of the flour barrels; they swarmed in and out of the trough where the dough was kneaded; and they swarmed in and out of the woodshed.

“The King of the Clinkers stood sometimes on the edge of the oven, sometimes on the edge of the flour barrels, sometimes on the edge of the trough, sometimes on the woodpile, and sometimes at the door of the furnace. And wherever he stood he waved his tiny poker and told the others what to do.

“Some of the little men carried wood to the furnace, some carried flour and water to the trough, some carried dough to the oven, and some brought out the hot and smoking bread. Sparkle Spry watched all this with so much surprise that he didn’t know what to say or do. He saw the loaves of bread rise up in rows as high as the ceiling, and he sat and watched it as dumb as an oyster. He had seen bread baked, but he had never seen such baking as this.

“Finally the eye of the King of the Clinkers fell on Sparkle Spry. ‘Don’t sit there doing nothing,’ he cried. ‘Go fetch wood and pile it here by the furnace door. You can do that!’

“Sparkle Spry did as he was bid, but though he brought the wood as fast as he could, he found that he couldn’t bring it fast enough. Pretty soon the King of the Clinkers called out to him:

“‘You can rest now. The flour is all gone, and we have hardly begun.’

“‘There’s plenty in the storehouse,’ said Sparkle Spry.

“‘How many barrels?’ asked the King of the Clinkers.

“‘Two hundred,’ Sparkle Spry answered.

“The King of the Clinkers wrung his hands in despair. ‘Hardly a mouthful—hardly a mouthful! It will all be gone before the chickens crow for day. But run fetch the key. Two hundred barrels will keep us busy while they last.’

“Sparkle Spry brought the key of the storehouse door, and the little men swarmed in and rolled the barrels out in a jiffy. Only one accident happened. In taking the flour out of one of the barrels, after they had rolled it near the dough trough, one of the little men fell in and would have been drowned but for Sparkle Spry, who felt around in the loose flour and lifted him out.”

“Drowned!” cried Sweetest Susan.

“Of course,” answered Tickle-My-Toes. “Why not? I ought to have said ‘smothered,’ but now that I’ve said ‘drowned’ I’ll stick to it.”

“Better stick to the story,” remarked Mr. Rabbit solemnly,—“Better stick to the story.”

“Now, I think he’s doing very well,” said Mrs. Meadows in an encouraging tone.

“Well,” said Tickle-My-Toes, “the little men worked away until they had baked the two hundred barrels of flour into nice brown loaves of bread. This made five hundred barrels they had used, and that was all the baker had on hand. The fifteen hundred pounds of flour made twenty hundred and odd fat loaves, and these the King of the Clinkers had carried into the storehouse.

“When all this was done, and nicely done, the King of the Clinkers went to the door of the room where the baker and his wife were sleeping. They were snoring as peacefully as two good people ever did. Then he went to the street door and listened.

“‘Get home—get home!’ he cried to the little men. ‘I hear wagons rumbling on the pavement; they will be here presently for bread.’

“The little men scampered this way and that, behind the oven and into the ash heap, and, in a few seconds, all had disappeared.

“‘Now,’ said the King of the Clinkers, ‘I want to tell you that I’ve had a splendid time, and I’m very much obliged to you for it. I have enjoyed myself, and I want to make some returns for it. Pretty soon the bread wagons will be at the door clamoring for bread. You will wake the baker and his wife. When they find all their flour made into nice bread they will be very much surprised. They will ask you who did it. You must tell them the truth. They will not believe it, but they’ll be very proud of you. They will be willing to give you anything you want. Tell them you want a wooden horse. They will have it built for you. It must have a window on each side and good strong hinges in the legs. Good-by! I hear the wagons at the door.’

“The King of the Clinkers waved his hand and disappeared behind the oven. The wagons rattled near the door, the teamsters cracking their whips and calling for bread for the hungry army. Sparkle Spry ran to the baker and shook him, and ran to the baker’s wife and shook her. They were soon awake, but when the baker learned that the wagons had come for bread, he threw up both hands in despair.

“‘I’m ruined!’ he cried. ‘I ought to have been baking and here I’ve been sleeping! And the army marches away to-day, leaving me with all my stock of flour on hand. Oh, why didn’t the boy wake me?’

“‘Come,’ said his wife; ‘we’ll sell what we’ve got, and not cry over the rest.’

“They went into the storehouse, and there they saw a sight such as they had never seen before. The room was so full of steaming bread that they could hardly squeeze in at the door. From floor to ceiling it was stacked and packed. They sold and sold until every loaf was gone, and then, instead of the bread, the baker and his wife had a sack full of silver money.

“The baker went in to count it, but his wife took it away from him. ‘Not now,’ she said; ‘not until we have thanked this boy.’

“‘You are right!’ cried the baker. ‘It’s the most wonderful thing I ever heard of. How did you manage it?’

“‘Some little men helped me,’ answered Sparkle Spry.

“The woman seized his hands and kissed his fingers. ‘These are the little men,’ she exclaimed.

“‘There’s one thing I’m sorry for,’ said Sparkle Spry.

“‘What is that?’ asked the baker.

“‘Why, we had to burn so much wood.’

“‘Don’t mention it—don’t mention it,’ protested the baker.

“‘Now,’ said the baker’s wife, embracing Sparkle Spry again, ‘you deserve something for making us rich. What shall it be?’

“The baker frowned a little at this, but his brow cleared when Sparkle Spry replied that he wanted a wooden horse built.

“‘You shall have it,’ said the baker’s wife.

“‘Yes, indeed,’ assented the baker. ‘As fine a one as you want.’”

XII.

THE TERRIBLE HORSE.

When Tickle-My-Toes had told about how pleased the baker and his wife were with Sparkle Spry, he paused and looked at Chickamy Crany Crow, as if he expected that she would beckon him away. But, instead of that, she said:—

“Why, that isn’t all.”

“Well, it’s enough, I hope,” replied Tickle-My-Toes.

“No,” said Mrs. Meadows, “it’s not enough, if there’s any more. Why, so far it’s the best of all the stories. It’s new to me. I had an idea that I had heard all the stories, but this one is a pole over my persimmon, as we used to say in the country next door.”

“I don’t like to tell stories,” protested Tickle-My-Toes, puckering his face in a comical way. “It’s too confining.”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit. “It’s time you were settling down. What will you look like a year or two from now, if you keep on cutting up your capers?”

Tickle-My-Toes caught hold of the corner of Chickamy Crany Crow’s apron, and, thus fortified, resumed his story:—

“Well, the baker and his wife promised Sparkle Spry they would have him a big wooden horse made, and they were as good as their word. They sent right off that very day for a carpenter and joiner, and when he came, Sparkle Spry showed the man what he wanted. He said the horse must be as much like a real horse as could be made out of wood, and three times as big.

“The man asked the baker’s wife what the brat wanted with such a machine as that, and this made the good woman mad.

“‘He’s no brat, I can tell you that!’ she exclaimed, ‘and if he wants a play horse as big as a whale and the same shape, he shall have it. Now if you want to make his play horse, get to work and make it. If not, I’ll get somebody else to make it.’

“But the man declared he meant no harm, and said he was glad to get the work. So he got the lumber, and in a few days, being a very clever workman, he had finished the wooden horse. He made it just as Sparkle Spry wanted him to. He put big hinges at the joints of the legs, cut a window in each side of the body, made the ears and the nostrils hollow, and fixed pieces of glass for the eyes.

“The carpenter seemed to enjoy his work, too, for every time he went off a little distance to see how his work looked, he laughed as hard as he could. When he was nearly done he asked Sparkle Spry if he wanted the roof shingled.

“‘Why, no,’ replied the boy. ‘There’s no roof there. Besides, horses don’t have shingles on them.’

“He’ll look pretty rough,” remarked the man.

“‘Yes,’ said Sparkle Spry, ‘but after you get through with him he is to be polished off.’

“‘That’s so,’ the carpenter assented, ‘but this horse has a good many things about him that other horses haven’t got.’

“So, when the carpenter was through with the horse, a leather finisher was sent for, and he covered the horse with hides of cows tanned with the hair on, and fixed a cow’s tail where the horse’s tail should have been.

“The baker grumbled a little at this extra expense, and said he was afraid Sparkle Spry had strained his head the night he baked so much bread. But the baker’s wife said she would like to have a whole house full of crazy children, if Sparkle Spry was crazy.

“When the wooden horse was finished, Sparkle Spry waited until the baker and his wife had gone to bed, and then he tapped on the oven and whistled. Presently the King of the Clinkers peeped out to see what the matter was. He came from behind the oven cautiously, until he found that Sparkle Spry was alone, and then he came forth boldly.

“‘The horse is ready,’ said Sparkle Spry.

“‘Ready!’ exclaimed the King of the Clinkers. ‘Well, I think it is high time. My workmen could have built it in a night; and here I have been waiting and waiting for I don’t know how long.’

“‘I hope you’ll like it,’ Sparkle Spry suggested.

“‘Like it!’ cried the King of the Clinkers. ‘Why, of course I’ll like it. I haven’t enjoyed a ride in so long that I’m not likely to quarrel with the horse that carries me.’

“‘But this is a wooden horse,’ remarked Sparkle Spry.

“‘I should hope so; yes, indeed!’ grunted the King of the Clinkers. ‘I have been riding wooden horses as long as I can remember. They may be a little clumsy, but they suit me.’

“‘But this horse has no rockers,’ persisted Sparkle Spry. ‘It is as solid as a house.’

“‘Much you know about wooden horses,’ said the King of the Clinkers. ‘Wait; I’ll call my torchbearers.’

“He tapped on the oven with his tiny poker, and immediately a company of little men filed out from behind it. As they passed the furnace door they lit their torches at a live coal, and marched out to the wooden horse, followed by the King of the Clinkers and Sparkle Spry.

“The latter had reason to be very much astonished at what he saw then and afterwards. The torchbearers led the way to the left foreleg of the wooden horse, opened a door, and filed up a spiral stairway, the King of the Clinkers following after. Sparkle Spry climbed up by means of a stepladder that the carpenter had used. When he crawled through the window in the side of the wooden horse, he saw that a great transformation had taken place, and the sight of it almost took his breath away.

“A furnace with a small bake oven had been fitted up, and there was also a supply of flour, coal, and wood. The flue from the furnace ran in the inside of the horse’s neck, finding a vent for the smoke at the ears. On all sides were to be seen the tools and furniture of a bakery, and there were places where the little men might stow themselves away when they were not on duty, and there was a special apartment for the King of the Clinkers.

“In a little while the whole interior of the horse swarmed with the followers of the King of the Clinkers, who stood counting them as they came in.

“‘All here,’ he said, waving his little poker. ‘Now get to bed and rest yourselves.’

“They complied so promptly that they seemed to disappear as if by magic. The torchbearers had thrown their torches in the furnace, and as wood had already been placed there, a fire was soon kindled.

“‘Now,’ said the King of the Clinkers, closing the draught, ‘we’ll let it warm up a little and see if the carpenter has done his work well.’

“Thereupon he pulled a cord that seemed to be tied to a bell, and, in a little while, Sparkle Spry felt that the horse was in motion. He hardly knew what to make of it. He went to the window and peeped out, and the lights in the houses seemed to be all going to the rear. Occasionally a creaking sound was heard, and sometimes he could feel a jar or jolt in the horse’s frame.

“‘Are we flying?’ he asked, turning to the King of the Clinkers.

“‘Flying! Nothing of the sort. Don’t you feel a jolt when the horse lifts up a foot and puts it down again? I’m mighty glad it is a pacing horse. If it was a trotting horse it would shake us all to pieces.’

“‘Where are we going?’ inquired Sparkle Spry.

“‘Following the army—following the army,’ replied the King of the Clinkers. ‘There’s going to be a big battle not far from here, and we may take a hand in it. The king of the country is a fat old rascal, and isn’t very well thought of by the rest of the kings, who are his cousins; but I live here, and he has never bothered me. Consequently, I don’t mind helping him out in a pinch.’

“‘How far do you have to go?’ asked Sparkle Spry, who had no great relish for war if it was as hard as he had heard it was.

“‘Oh, a good many miles,’ replied the King of the Clinkers, ‘and we are not getting on at all. There’s not enough mutton suet on the knee hinges to suit me.’

“So saying, he struck the bell twice, and instantly Sparkle Spry could feel that the wooden horse was going faster.

“‘Does the horse go by the road or through the fields?’ asked Sparkle Spry.

“‘Oh, we take short cuts when necessary,’ answered the King of the Clinkers. ‘We have no time to go round by the road. I hope you are not scared.’

“‘No, not scared,’ replied Sparkle Spry somewhat doubtfully; ‘but it makes me feel queer to be traveling through the country in a wooden horse.’

“Nothing more was said for some time, and Sparkle Spry must have dropped off to sleep, for suddenly he was aroused by the voice of the King of the Clinkers, who called out:—

“‘Here we are! Get up! Stir about!’

“Sparkle Spry jumped to his feet and looked from the window. Day was just dawning, and on the plain before him he saw hundreds of twinkling lights, as if a shower of small stars had fallen to the ground during the night. Being somewhat dazed by his experiences, he asked what they were.

“‘Camp-fires,’ replied the King of the Clinkers. ‘The army that we are going to attack is camped further away, but if you will lift your eyes a little, you will see their camp-fires.’

“‘Do we attack them by ourselves?’ Sparkle Spry asked.

“‘Of course!’ the King of the Clinkers answered. ‘I never did like too much company; besides, I want you to get the credit of it.’

“‘Now, I’d rather be certain of a whole skin than to have any credit,’ protested Sparkle Spry.

“But the King of the Clinkers paid no attention to his protests. He gave his orders to his little men, and strutted about with an air of importance that Sparkle Spry would have thought comical if he had not been thinking of the battle.

“Daylight came on and drowned out the camp-fires, leaving only thin columns of blue smoke to mark them. The wooden horse moved nearer and nearer to the army directly in front of them, and finally came close to the headquarters of the commanding general, who sent out a soldier to inquire the meaning of the apparition. Finally the general came himself, accompanied by his staff, and to him Sparkle Spry repeated what the King of the Clinkers had told him to say. The general pulled his mustache and knitted his brows mightily, and finally he said:—

“‘I’m obliged to you for coming. You’ll have to do the best you can. I never have commanded a wooden horse, and if I were to tell you what to do, I might get you into trouble. I’ll just send word along the line that the wooden horse is on our side, and you’ll have to do the best you can.’

“As he said, so he did. The army soon knew that a big wooden horse had come to help it, and when the queer-looking machine moved to the front, the soldiers got out of the way as fast as they could, and some of them forgot to carry their arms with them. But order was soon restored, and presently it was seen that the opposing army was marching forward to begin the battle.