Part 8

“Anyhow, that’s the way it seemed to me in the story,” replied Mr. Thimblefinger. “But the story is so old-fashioned it would hardly pass muster now. Besides, they tell me that, as there’s not enough metal to go round, people have begun to make up their minds that pieces of paper with pictures on them are just as good as the metal, and perhaps better. It’s mighty funny to me.”

“What was the story?” asked Sweetest Susan. “Please tell us about it.”

“Why, yes,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, “tell us about it. If calamus root passes current with some of my acquaintances and catnip with others, I see no reason why people shouldn’t play make-believe among themselves, and say that pieces of metal and pieces of paper are worth something. In this business people have a great advantage over us. They can put figures on their pieces of metal and paper and make them worth anything, but with us a joint of calamus root is worth just so much. It has been worth that since the year one, and it will be worth that right on to the end of things. Just so with a twist of catnip. But tell us the story—tell us the story. I may drop off to sleep, but if I do, that will be no sign that the tale isn’t interesting.”

“Well,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, “once upon a time there was a country in which money became very scarce. The people had a great deal, but they hid it in their stockings and in the chinks of the chimneys and in their teapots. The reason of this was that other countries close at hand made their money out of the same kind of metal, and they’d bring their goods in and sell them and carry the money off home with them.

“Of course this helped to make money scarce, and the scarcer it was the more the people clung to it, and this made it still scarcer. Naturally everybody kept an eye out in the hope of finding a supply of this metal.”

“What sort of metal was it?” asked Buster John.

“Gold,” replied Mr. Thimblefinger.

“Oh!” exclaimed Buster John, in a disappointed tone.

“Yes,” continued Mr. Thimblefinger, “nothing in the world but gold. Those who had money held on to it as long as they could, because they didn’t know how much scarcer it would be, and those who didn’t have any were willing to sell whatever they had for any price in order to get some.

“It was lots worse than playing dolls—lots worse. When children play make-believe with dolls, they soon forget about it; but when grown people begin to play make-believe with money, they never get over it. The wisest men get their heads turned when they begin to think and talk about money. They have forgotten that it was all a make-believe in the beginning.”

Here Mr. Rabbit yawned and said: “You’ll have to excuse me if I nod a little here.”

“Yes,” remarked Mrs. Meadows, “I feel a little sleepy myself, but I’ll try to keep awake for the sake of appearances.”

“Don’t mind me,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, with mock politeness. “Go to sleep if you want to, you two. I won’t have to talk so loud.

“Well, in this country I was telling you about, there was a young man who had saved some money by working hard, but he didn’t save it fast enough to suit himself. He thought so much about it that he would stop in the middle of his work, and sit and study about it an hour at a time.

“He thought about it so much that he began to dream about it, and one night he dreamed that he got in a boat and went to an island on which there was a mountain of gold that shone and glistened in the sun. He was very unhappy when he woke in the morning and found it was nothing but a dream.

“He didn’t go to work that day, but wandered about doing nothing. That night he had the same dream. He had the same dream the next night; and the morning after, the first person he saw was an old man who had stopped to rest on the doorsteps. This old man would have been like other old men but for one thing. His beard was so long that he had to part it in the middle of his chin, pass it under each arm, cross the wisps on his back, and bring them around in front again, where the two ends were tied together with a bow of red ribbon.

“‘How are you, my young friend, and how goes it?’ said the old man, smiling pleasantly. ‘You look as if you had been having wonderful dreams.’

“‘So I have, gran’sir,’ replied the young man.

“‘Well, a dream isn’t worth a snap of your finger unless it comes true, and a dream never comes true until you have dreamed it three times.’

“‘I have dreamed mine three times, gran’sir, and yet it is impossible that it should come true.’

“‘Nonsense! Nothing is impossible. Tell me your dream.’

“So the young man told the old man his dream.

“‘The Island of the Mountain of Gold!’ exclaimed the old man. ‘Why, that is right in my line of travel. I can land you there without any trouble. It is a little out of my way, but not much.’

“‘How shall we get there?’ the young man asked.

“‘On the other side of the town, I have a boat,’ replied the old man. ‘You are welcome to go with me. It is so seldom that dreams come true that I shall be glad to help this one along as well as I can. Besides, I have long wanted an excuse to visit the Island of the Mountain of Gold. I have passed within sight of it hundreds of times, but have always been too busy to land there.’

“The young man looked at the old man with astonishment. If he had spoken his thoughts he would have declared the old man to be crazy, but he said nothing. He simply followed after him. The old man led the way across the town to a wharf, where his boat was tied. It was a light little skiff that could be sailed by one man. In this the two embarked.

“The old man managed the sail with one hand and the rudder with the other, and he had hardly made things ready and taken his seat before a light breeze sprang up and filled the sail. The skiff glided along the water so easily that the shore seemed to be receding while the boat stood still. But the breeze grew stronger and stronger, and the sail bore so heavily on the nose of the boat that the foam and spray flew high in the air.

“The sun was bright and the sky was blue, and the dark green water seemed to boil beneath them, so swiftly the light boat sped along. The young man clapped his hands as joyously as a boy, and the old man smiled. Presently he leaned over the side of the boat and pointed to something shining and sparkling in the distance. The young man saw it, too, and turned an inquiring eye upon his companion.

“‘That is your mountain of gold,’ said the old man.

“‘It seems to be very small,’ said the other. He ceased to smile, and a frown clouded his face.

“The old man noticed the frown, and shook his head and frowned a little himself, coughing in the muffler that was tied around his neck. But he said:—

“‘The mountain of gold is more than twenty miles away.’

“‘How far have we come?’

“‘Some hundred and odd miles.’

“The young man seemed to be very much surprised, but he said nothing. He leaned so far over the side of the boat to watch the mountain of gold that he was in danger of falling out. The old man kept an eye on him, but did not lift a finger to warn him.

“In due time they came to the island, if it could be called an island. It seemed to be a barren rock that had lifted itself out of the sea to show the mountain of gold. The mountain was only a hill, but it was a pretty high one, considering it was of solid gold.”

“Sure enough gold?” asked Sweetest Susan.

“Pure gold,” answered Mr. Thimblefinger. “The old man landed his skiff at a convenient place, and the two got out and went to the mountain, or hill, of gold that rose shining in the middle of the small island. The actions of the young man showed that he considered himself the proprietor of both island and mountain. He broke off a chunk of gold as big as your fist, weighed it in his hand, and would have given it to the old man, but the latter shook his head.

“‘You refuse it?’ cried the other. ‘If it is not enough I’ll give you as much more.’

“‘No,’ replied the old man. ‘Keep it for yourself. You owe me nothing. I could have carried away tons of the stuff long before I saw you, but I had no use for it. You are welcome to as much as you can take away with you.’

“‘As much as I can take away!’ exclaimed the other. ‘I shall take it all.’

“‘But how?’

“‘It is mine! I am rich. I will buy me a ship.’ He walked back and forth, rubbing his hands together.

“‘Then you have no further need of me?’ said the old man.

“‘Not now—not now,’ replied the other with a grand air. ‘You won’t accept pay for your services, and I can do no more than thank you.’

“The old man bowed politely, got in his skiff, and sailed away. The other continued to walk about the island and rub his hands together, and make his plans. He was now the richest man in the world. He could buy kings and princes and empires. He had enough gold to buy all the ships on the sea and to control all the trade on the land. He was great. He was powerful.

“All these thoughts passed through his mind and he was very happy. The sun looked at the young man a long time, and then went to bed in the sea. Two little gray lizards looked at him until the sun went down, and then they crawled back in their holes. A big black bird sailed round and round and watched him until nearly dark, and then sailed away.

“When night came the young man found the air damp and chilly, but he knew he was rich, and so he laughed at the cold. He crept close under his mountain of gold, and, after a long time, went to sleep. In the morning he awoke and found that nobody had taken away his precious mountain of gold during the night. The sun rose to keep him company, the two gray lizards crept out of their holes and looked at him, and the big black bird sailed round and round overhead.

“The day passed, and then another and another. The young man was hungry and thirsty, but he was rich. The night winds chilled him, but he was rich. The midday sun scorched him, but he was the richest man in the world. Every night, no matter how hungry or weak he was, he crept upon the side of the mountain, and stretched himself out, and tried to hug it to his bosom. He knew that if he was hungry, it wasn’t because he was poor, and if he died, he knew he would die rich. So there he was.”

“What then?” asked Buster John, as Mr. Thimblefinger paused to look at his watch.

“Well, I’ll tell you,” continued Mr. Thimblefinger, holding the watch to his ear. “One fine morning this rich young man was so weak that he couldn’t get up. He tried to, but his foot slipped, and he rolled to the foot of the mountain of gold and lay there. He lay there so long and so quietly that the two gray lizards crept close to him to see what was the matter. He moved one of his fingers, and they darted back to their holes.

“The rich young man lay so still that the big black bird, sailing overhead, came nearer and nearer, and finally alighted at a respectful distance from the rich young man. The two gray lizards came out again, and crawled cautiously toward the rich young man. The big black bird craned his neck and looked, and then went a little closer. A sudden gust of wind caused the rich young man’s coat to flap. The gray lizards scrambled towards their holes, and the big black bird jumped up in the air and flew off a little way.

“But presently they all came back, bird and lizards, and this time they went still closer to the rich young man. The big black bird went so close that there is no telling what he would have done next, but just then the old man came running towards them. He had untied the two ends of his beard, and was waving them in the air as if they were flags. The big black bird flew away very angry, and the gray lizards ran over each other trying to get to their holes.

“The old man, tied up his beard again, took up the rich young man on his shoulder, and carried him to the boat. Once there he gave the rich young man some wine. This revived him, and in a little while he was able to eat. But he had no opportunity to talk. The wind whirled the boat through the water, and in a few hours it had arrived at the young man’s town.

“He went home, and soon recovered in more ways than one. He found his strength again, and lost his appetite for riches. But he worked hard, saved all he could, and was soon prosperous; but he never remembered without a shiver the time that he was the richest man in the world.”

XVI.

AN OLD-FASHIONED FUSS.

“I don’t blame ’im fer shiverin’,” said Drusilla; “but, I let you know, here’s what wouldn’t shiver none ef she had dat ar big pile er gol’ what de man had. I’d ’a’ cotch me some fish; I’d ’a’ gobbled up dem lizards, yit!”

“Well,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, “I expect money is a pretty big thing. I’ve heard a heap of talk about it, and I’ve known some big fusses to grow out of it. And yet money doesn’t cause all the fusses—oh, no! not by a long jump. I once heard of a fuss that happened long before there was any money, and the curious part about it was that nobody knew what the fuss grew out of.”

“What fuss was that?” asked Buster John, who thought that perhaps there might be a story in it.

“Why, it was the quarrel between the Monkeys and the Dogs. My great-grandfather knew all about the facts, and I’ve heard him talk it over many a time when he was sitting in the kitchen corner chewing his quid. I’ve often heard him wonder, between naps, what caused the dispute.”

“It seems to me I’ve heard something about it,” remarked Mrs. Meadows in an encouraging tone.

“Oh, yes!” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit. “It was notorious in our young days. I reckon it has been settled long before this; anyhow, I hope so.”

“What did your great-grandfather say about it?” inquired Buster John.

“If I were to tell you all he said,” responded Mr. Rabbit, shaking his head slowly, “you’d have to sit here with me for a fortnight, and of course you wouldn’t like to do that. So I’ll just up and tell you about it in my own way. I may not get it exactly right, but I’ll be bound I won’t get it far wrong, for I have nothing else in the round world to do but to sit here and think about old times.

“As well as I can remember, the way of it was about this: Away back yonder, in the times before everybody had got to be so busy trying to get the best of each other, a coolness sprang up between the Monkeys and the Dogs. Nobody knew the right of it, because nobody paid any attention to it along at first. But after awhile it got so that every time a Dog would meet a Monkey in the road, the Monkey would get up in a tree and laugh at him, and then the Dog would stop and scratch up the dirt with all four of his feet and growl.”

“Oh, I’ve seen them do that way,” said Sweetest Susan, laughing.

“Yes,” replied Mr. Rabbit, with a more solemn air than ever. “They have never got out of the habit of that kind of caper from that day to this. Well, the coolness grew into a dispute, and the dispute into a quarrel, and so there it was. The Monkeys would make faces and squeal at the Dogs, and the Dogs would show their teeth and growl at the Monkeys. It went from bad to worse, and after awhile, the Dogs would chase the Monkeys wherever they saw them, and the Monkeys would swing down from the hanging limbs and give the tails of the Dogs some terrible twists.

“Before that time the Monkeys had been living on the ground just like everybody else lived, but the Dogs had such sharp teeth and such nimble feet that the Monkeys had to take to the trees and saplings. At first they couldn’t get about in the trees as they do now. Sometimes they’d miss their footing, or lose their grip, and down they’d come right into the red jaws of the Dogs.

“Now this wasn’t pleasant at all. Even when the Monkeys didn’t fall, the ants and crawling bugs would get on them, and the dead limbs of the trees would fall and hurt them, and the wind would blow them about, and the heavy rains would fall and wet them.

“About that time the Monkeys were the most miserable creatures in the world. They were so miserable that, finally, the Head Monkey made up his mind to go and see the Wise Man who used to settle all disputes as far as he could. So the Head Monkey set out on his journey, and traveled till he came to the Wise Man’s house.

“He got on the gatepost, and looked all around, to see if there was a Dog anywhere in sight. Seeing none, he went to the front door and knocked. The Wise Man came out. He was very old. He had a beard as long as Brother Billy Goat’s, and as gray, but he was very nice and kind. The Head Monkey told his story all the way through, and the Wise Man sat and listened to every word. When he had heard it all, he shut his eyes and studied the matter over, and then he said:—

“‘Only fools get up fusses that they can’t settle. I’ll give you a fool’s remedy to settle a fool’s fuss. Go back to your own country and fetch me a bunch of the hair of a Brindle Dog. Then I’ll show you a cheap and an easy way to get rid of the whole tribe of Dogs. But be sure that you make no mistake. I must have the hair of a Brindle Dog—just that and nothing else. Then I can show you how to get rid of all the Dogs. But if you make any mistake, you will ruin the whole tribe of Monkeys.’

“The Head Monkey scratched himself on the side, quick like. Says he, ‘Oh, I’ll make no mistake. Don’t worry about me. The first time the Dogs have a burying I’ll get on a swinging limb, and when a Brindle Dog comes along I’ll reach down and pull a bunch of hair out of his hide, and by the time he gets through howling I’ll be on my journey back.’

“The Wise Man ran his fingers through his beard, and laughed to himself. Says he, ‘Very well, my young friend, but you had best be careful. A Dog of any kind will bear watching, but especially a Brindle Dog.’

“The Head Monkey made no answer. He simply grinned, and started back home. Now, it happened that after his journey was over, the Dogs had no burying for a long time. They seemed to be in better health than ever. Some traveling doctor had come along and told them that whenever they felt out of sorts they must go out in the fields and hunt for a particular kind of grass. When they found it they were to eat twenty-seven blades of it, and then go on about their business. You may not believe this,” said Mr. Rabbit, pausing in the midst of his story, “but if you will watch the Dogs right close, you will find that to this day they’ll go out and eat grass whenever they are ailing. They don’t chew it. They just bite off a great long sprig of it, and wallop it around their tongues and swallow it whole. I don’t know how they do it, but I’m telling you the plain facts.

“Well, as I was saying, it was a long time after the Head Monkey got home before the Dogs had a burying, and when they did have one it happened that there was no Brindle Dog in the procession. The rest of the Monkeys were all waiting to see what the Head Monkey was going to do, and so they forgot to bother the Dogs. When the Dogs saw that the Monkeys were quiet, they kept quiet themselves, and there was no trouble between them for a long time. Seeing that the Dogs were no longer snapping and snarling at them, some of the older Monkeys began to travel on the ground again, but the younger ones stayed in the trees where they were born.

“The Head Monkey was mighty restless. Sometimes he’d stay in the trees, and then again he’d travel on the ground, but wherever he was he always kept his eye out for a Brindle Dog. Finally, one day, when he was traveling on the ground, he heard a noise up the road, and when he turned around he saw a big Brindle Dog coming towards him. He thought to himself that now was his time or never; so he got behind a bush and waited for the Brindle Dog to come up.

“He didn’t have long to wait, for the Brindle Dog was going in a swinging trot. When he came by the bush, the Head Monkey rushed out and tried to pull a bunch of hair from the Brindle Dog’s hide. But he rushed too far. The Brindle Dog shied, as old Mr. Horse used to do when he saw a bunch of shucks in the road. He shied so quick, and he shied so far, that the Head Monkey fell short with his arm, and was carried too far by his legs. As the Brindle Dog shied, he turned and saw what it was, and then he made a rush for the Head Monkey. There was no tree near, and no way for the Head Monkey to escape. The Brindle Dog grabbed him and made short work of him. There was considerable of a fight, for the Head Monkey was strong in his arms and quick on his feet. But the Brindle Dog had a long jaw and a strong one. He grabbed the Head Monkey between shoulder and ham, and shook him up as you have seen people shake a sifter. He just held on and shook, and when he turned loose he’d shut his teeth down in a new place, so that when the rippit was over, it seemed as if there wasn’t a whole bone in the Head Monkey’s hide. But quick done is quick over: and after the Brindle Dog had done all the shaking that the case called for, he dropped the Head Monkey and went on about his business; but he had some bites and scratches on his hide, and as he trotted off he shook his ears, for one of them had been split mighty nigh in two by the Head Monkey.

“Well, after the Brindle Dog had trotted off, the Head Monkey rose from the ground and began to feel of himself. He was afraid that he had been torn in two and scattered all over the road, but when he found that he had his legs and his arms and his head and his body, he began to be more cheerful. He found he could walk. And then he found he could use his hands, and then he strutted around, and said to himself that he had whipped the fight. He was badly bruised and pretty sore, but he was not too sore to strut, and so he walked up and down the road and made his brags that he had compelled the Brindle Dog to take to his heels.

“Then he happened to think what he had come for, and he hunted all about in the road to see if he could find a bunch of the Brindle Dog’s hair. There was a good deal of hair scattered around, and in a little while the Head Monkey had gathered up a handful. He picked it over and sorted it out, and wrapped it up in a poplar leaf. Then he went home to his family and rested a day or two, for he was pretty badly bruised. And he told a big tale of how he had met the great Brindle Dog in the road, and had fanned him out in a fair fight. His children listened with all their ears, and then they jumped from limb to limb and told all the neighbors’ children that their pa was the biggest and the best of all the Monkeys.

“This went on for some time, and finally the Head Monkey felt well enough to visit the Wise Man. So he started on the journey, and after awhile he got there. He climbed the gatepost again, and looked all around to see if there was a Brindle Dog in sight. Seeing none, he went to the door and knocked, and the Wise Man came out.

“‘Good-morning,’ says the Wise Man. ‘I hope you are well.’

“‘Tolerably well, I thank you,’ says the Head Monkey. ‘And I’ve come agreeable to promise to bring you a bunch of the hair of a Brindle Dog.’

“With that he unrolled the poplar leaf, and showed the Wise Man the hair he had picked up in the road. The Wise Man took the bunch of hair and turned it over in his hand, and looked at it. Then he looked at the Head Monkey.

“‘What is this?’ says he.

“‘A bunch of hair from a Brindle Dog,’ says the Head Monkey.

“The Wise Man shook his head. Says he, ‘It may be, but it doesn’t look like the samples I have seen. Are you sure about it?’ says he.

“‘As sure as I am standing here,’ says the Head Monkey.