Part 9

“Says the Wise Man, ‘It’s none of my business. I just wanted to be certain about it, because if there’s any Monkey hair in it, everything will go wrong. The whole tribe of Monkeys will be ruined. They will have to leave this country and the Dogs will stay here. Did you have any trouble in getting this hair?’ says he.

“‘Well,’ says the Head Monkey, ‘there was a dispute, nothing serious.’

“‘How long did the dispute last?’ says the Wise Man.

“‘No longer than I could reach out and get the hair,’ says the Head Monkey.

“‘That’s funny,’ says the Wise Man. ‘When the Brindle Dog gets into a dispute, he usually shows his teeth.’

“‘Oh, he showed his teeth, and he had more than I thought,’ says the Head Monkey.

“‘But are you sure this hair came out of the hide of a Brindle Dog?’ says the Wise Man.

“Says the Head Monkey, ‘As sure as I’m standing here. I pulled it out with my own hands.’

“Says the Wise Man, ‘It looks to me as if there were some other kind of hair in this bunch. Did you have any trouble in getting it?’ says he.

“‘Well,’ says the Head Monkey, ‘we had a little dispute.’

“Says the Wise Man, ‘Was that all?’

“‘Well,’ says the Head Monkey, scratching himself, ‘we passed a few licks.’

“‘How was that?’ says the Wise Man.

“‘Well,’ says the Head Monkey, ‘he growled and I squealed, and then he bit and I scratched.’

“‘I see,’ says the Wise Man. ‘What else?’

“‘Well, to tell you the truth,’ says the Head Monkey, ‘there was right smart of a scuffle.’

“‘Aha!’ says the Wise Man. ‘A scuffle!’

“‘Yes,’ says the Head Monkey, ‘and worse than that. There was a regular knock-down-and-drag-out fight,’ says he.

“‘I see,’ says the Wise Man. ‘You have brought me some of your own hair instead of the Brindle Dog’s hair, and now you and your whole tribe will have to leave this country and cross the ocean; and when you get into the new country, you will have to live in the trees to keep the four-footed animals from destroying you.’

“And so it happened,” continued Mr. Rabbit. “Since that time, there have been no Monkeys in this country. They had to cross the big water, and when they got over there they had to live in the trees; and I expect they are living that way yet—at least, they were at last accounts.”

XVII.

THE RABBIT AND THE MOON.

“I reckon that’s so about the Monkeys,” remarked Mrs. Meadows. “They used to be in the country next door, and now they are no longer there.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Rabbit; “it’s just like I tell you: they were there once, but now they are not there any more. But in the world next door everybody has his ups and downs, especially his downs. I’ve heard my great-grandfather tell many a time how our family used to live close to the Moon. So I don’t make any brags about the way the Monkeys had to take to the bushes. I remember about my own family, and then I feel like hanging my head down and saying nothing. It is a very funny feeling, too. When I think we used to live close to the Moon, and that we now live on the ground and have to crawl there like snails, I sometimes feel like crying; and I tell you right now if I was to begin to boo-hoo, you’d be astonished.”

Buster John and Sweetest Susan looked very serious, but Drusilla showed a desire to laugh.

“You say you used to live close to the Moon?” asked Buster John, with more curiosity than usual.

“Why, certainly,” replied Mr. Rabbit. “I don’t say that I did, but I’m certain that my family did. I’ve heard my great-grandfather tell about it a hundred times. I’ve heard that it was a better country up there than it is where you live, even better than it is down here,—a good deal more fun and fiddling, and not half so much looking around for something to eat. That is the great trouble. If we didn’t have to scuffle around and get something to eat, we’d be lots better off.

“It’s mighty funny. If you let well enough alone, you are all right; but the minute you try to better it, everything goes wrong.”

“Dat wuz de way wid ol’ man Adam,” remarked Drusilla.

“Why, of course,” said Mr. Rabbit, “and it was the way with all the Rabbits and everybody and everything else.”

“But how did they live up there by the Moon?” asked Sweetest Susan. “How did they keep from falling off?”

Mr. Rabbit scratched his head a little before replying. “Well,” said he, after awhile, “they got along just as we do down here,—heads up and feet down. But one time, as I’ve heard my great-grandfather say, the Moon got into a sort of fidget, and was mighty restless for quite a while. At last, one of our family, the oldest of all, made bold to look over the fence and ask the Moon what the trouble was. He noticed, too, that the Moon had shrunk considerably, and seemed to be in a very bad way. It could hardly hold up its head.

“But the Moon managed to look up when it heard the fuss at the fence, and, in a very shaky voice, told the oldest of all the Rabbits howdy.

“‘What is the trouble?’ says the oldest Rabbit. Says he, ‘Can I do anything to help you?’

“‘I’m afraid not,’ says the Moon. ‘You are not nimble enough.’

“‘Maybe I’m nimbler than you think,’ says the oldest Rabbit.

“‘Well,’ says the Moon, ‘I’ll tell you what the trouble is. I want to get a message to Mr. Man, who lives in the world down yonder. I’ve been shining on him at night, and I’ve caught a bad cold by being out after dark. My health is breaking down, and if I don’t put out my lights for a while and take a rest, I’ll have to go out altogether. Now, it’s like this: I’ve been shining for Mr. Man so long that if I don’t send him some word he’ll think something serious has happened. I must take a rest, but I want to send him a message, telling him that I won’t be gone long.’

“‘Well,’ says the oldest Rabbit, ‘I don’t mind going, if you’ll show me the way and tell me what to say.’

“So the Moon pointed out the way, and showed him how to put his fingers in his ears and hold his breath when he took the long jump. Then it gave him this message:—

_‘I am growing weak to gather strength: I go into the shadows to gather light.’_

“The oldest Rabbit said this message over to himself many times, and then he got ready for the journey. Everything went well until he came to the long jump. But he braced himself, and shut his eyes, and put his fingers in his ears, and held his breath. Now, the jump was a long one, sure enough. It was so long that the oldest Rabbit opened one eye, and then he got the notion that he was falling instead of jumping, and he opened both eyes so wide that they have been that way ever since. This scared him terribly, and by the time he landed on the world he had forgotten what he came for. He wasn’t hurt a bit, but he was badly scared.

“He sat on the ground and tried to remember, and then he got up and walked about. Finally, he looked up and saw the Moon winking one eye at him. Then he thought about the message, and he ran off to Mr. Man’s house, and knocked at the door. Mr. Man had gone to bed, but he got up and opened the door, and asked what was wanted.

“‘Well,’ says the oldest Rabbit, ‘I’ve just come from the Moon with a message for you.’

“‘What is it?’ says Mr. Man.

“‘The Moon told me to tell you this:—

‘_I’m growing weak and have no strength: I’m going off where the shadows are dark._’

“Mr. Man scratched his head. He couldn’t make the message out. Then he said, ‘Take this message back:—

‘_Seldom seen and soon forgot: When a Moon dies her feet get cold._’

“The oldest Rabbit bowed politely and started back home. He came to the Jumping-Off Place, and then he took the long jump. He was soon at home, and went at once to the Moon’s house, and gave the message that Mr. Man had sent. This made the Moon very mad. It declared that the oldest Rabbit had carried the wrong message. Then it grabbed the shovel and struck him in the face. This made the oldest Rabbit very mad, and he jumped at the Moon and used his claws. The fight was a hard one, and you can see the marks of it to this day. All the Rabbits have their upper lips split, and the Moon still has the marks on its face where the oldest Rabbit clawed it.

“The way of it was this,” continued Mr. Rabbit, seeing that the children had hardly caught the drift of the story: “the Moon had been shining constantly for many years, and was growing weak. It wanted to take a rest, and it was afraid Mr. Man would get scared when he failed to see it at night. Since that time the Moon has been taking a rest about every two weeks. At least it used to be that way. I never bother about it now.”

XVIII.

WHY THE BEAR IS A WRESTLER.

“Well,” said Mr. Rabbit, after a pause, “what about the story? Was there any moral to it?”

“None at all,” replied Mrs. Meadows. “It was just an old-time tale.”

“Now, I’m truly glad to hear you say so,” cried Mr. Rabbit, appearing to be very much pleased. “It’s as good as taking a nap.” He winked gravely at Buster John, and then proceeded to refill his pipe.

“I thought it was a pretty good story,” said Buster John. “It turned out to be a story so quick that it was all over with before I knew it was a story.”

“Well,” replied Mr. Rabbit, “I had to tell it mighty quick. Suppose I had stopped to light my pipe and left my own kin dangling between the Moon and the World! I knew in reason it would never do, and so I rattled away almost as fast as the oldest Rabbit jumped. It was a long story quickly told of a long journey quickly made.”

Mr. Rabbit seemed to be in better humor than ever. He leaned back, and patted the ground softly with one foot.

“Speaking of journeys,” he said, after awhile, “makes me think about how Brother Bear started out in the world. But what am I doing?” he cried. “I don’t want to do all the talking. I don’t have any chance to sleep unless somebody else is telling a story.”

“Now, please tell us the story,” pleaded Sweetest Susan.

“I’ll have to,” replied Mr. Rabbit, “since I’ve got it started. Well, one time when Brother Bear was young, the time came for him to scratch around and scuffle for himself. He had already learned how to grabble for sweet potatoes, how to tote an armful of roasting ears, and how to shut his eyes and rob a bee-tree, and so his daddy thought it was about time for him to go off and earn his own living. Brother Bear said he was more than willing, and when he came to tell his folks good-by, his daddy gave him seven pieces of honey-in-the-comb, saying:—

“‘This is all I have to give you, but it’s enough. Whoever eats this honey with you will have to wrestle with you seven years or give you everything he owns.’

“So Brother Bear put his seven pieces of honey-in-the-comb in a bag, slung the bag over his back, and went shuffling down the big road. He traveled all that day, and camped out in the woods at night. The next morning, just as he was about to eat breakfast, he heard a rustling in the bushes, and presently Brother Tiger came slipping and sliding along, hunting for his breakfast. Brother Bear howdied, and Brother Tiger said he was only tolerable—not as peart as he might be, and yet pearter than he had been. Then Brother Tiger sat and watched Brother Bear take put a piece of his honey-in-the-comb, and the sight made his mouth water. Brother Bear noticed this, and he says, says he:—

“‘I wish you mighty well, Brother Tiger, and I’d like to ask you to have some of my breakfast, for I have more than a plenty for two. But the trouble is, that whoever eats any of this honey-in-the-comb will have to wrestle with me seven years or give me all his belongings.’

“‘Don’t let that bother you,’ says Brother Tiger, says he. ‘I’m a pretty good wrestler myself, and I don’t mind trying my hand with you after I’ve tasted your honey-in-the-comb.’

“But Brother Bear hemmed and hawed, and acted so that Brother Tiger thought he was either afraid to wrestle or mighty stingy with his honey-in-the-comb. He thought so, and he said so, and this put Brother Bear on his mettle. So he says, says he:—

“‘Well, Brother Tiger, come and get a piece of my honey-in-the-comb. I’m more than glad to give it to you, and sorry, too, because, as sure as you eat it, you’ll be put under a spell, and you’ll be obliged to wrestle with me seven long years or give me all your belongings.’

“Brother Tiger grinned from ear to ear. Says he, ‘If I don’t have to wrestle before I get the honey-in-the-comb, it will be all right. Just let me get my fill of that, and I’ll wrestle with you seven times seven years. I’ll promise to make you tired of wrestling.’

“‘So be it,’ says Brother Bear. ‘Come and get the honey-in-the-comb, and take all you want, for I won’t need any after I’ve wrestled with you a time or two,’ says he.

“Brother Tiger went up and tasted the honey-in-the-comb, and it was so good that he smacked his lips and asked for more. Brother Bear gave him some. After both had eat as much as they wanted, Brother Tiger took a notion to go home, but something held him back. The spell was working. But finally he pulled himself together, and said he believed he’d go home and see his old woman.

“But Brother Bear chuckled to himself. Says he, ‘Now that you’ve gobbled up my honey-in-the-comb, you don’t want to wrestle. You can’t help yourself. When I say wrestle, you’ll have to wrestle. You can go home now, but to-morrow, bright and early, I’ll knock at your door, and you’ll have to come out and wrestle.’

“Says Brother Tiger, says he, ‘I’ll be more than glad to accommodate you. Just knock at the door any hour after daybreak, and you’ll find me on hand.’

“Says Brother Bear, ‘I’ll do so, I’ll do so. Just remember your spoken word, Brother Tiger!’

“Brother Tiger started home, but before he had gone very far he began to feel mighty queer. He had a buzzing noise in his head and a creepy, crawly feeling on his hide. He began to get scared. Once he thought the honey had poisoned him, but he wasn’t sick. He never felt better in his life. He wanted to jump and run, and I believe the tale does say that he capered around a time or two. But every time he’d start home he’d have that buzzing sound in his head and that creepy, crawly feeling in his hide.

“So, by and by, he thought he would turn back and see what Brother Bear thought about it. No sooner said than done. He went back at a hand gallop, and found Brother Bear curled up at the foot of a tree fast asleep. The honey had made him feel so good that he concluded to enjoy himself by taking another nap. But he got up brisk enough when he heard Brother Tiger calling him, and by the time he had rubbed his eyes once or twice, and gaped and stretched himself, he was as wide awake as ever.

“Says he, ‘I knew you’d come back, Brother Tiger, and so I just waited for you; and while I was waiting I ups and drops off to sleep. But anyhow and anyway, here you are, and there’s no harm done.’

“Says Brother Tiger, says he, ‘I just came back to ask you about the queer feeling I have.’

“Says Brother Bear, ‘That’s easy enough. You just wanted to wrestle, and so you had to come back. I have the feeling most all the time when I’m not sleeping or eating. It’s a sort of zooning sound in the ears, and a sort of ticklish feeling on the hide. Well, there isn’t anything the matter at all. You just want to wrestle, and as the feeling is new to you, you didn’t know what it was.’

“Says Brother Tiger, ‘I believe you are right, Brother Bear; I believe that’s the whole trouble.’

“‘Well,’ says Brother Bear, ‘I’ll try you one round, just to loosen up my hide and put me in traveling trim. I’ll not wrestle with you very hard, because you are not used to it, and it’s too soon to get down to business with you. I told you about it when you wanted to eat the honey, but you would eat it, and now you’ll have to wrestle with me, off and on, first and last, for seven long years; and if you don’t, you’ll have to give me your house and all your belongings.’

“So they took off their coats and made ready to wrestle. ‘As you are not used to these capers,’ says Brother Bear, ‘I’ll give you all-under holt, and promise not to use the in-turn, the ham-twist, or the knee-lock.’

“Now, Brother Tiger didn’t know whether Brother Bear was talking Latin or Chinese, but he said nothing: he just stood up and grabbed Brother Bear around the waist, or where the waist ought to be.

“‘When you are ready,’ says Brother Bear, ‘just give the word.’

“‘Well,’ says Brother Tiger, ‘I reckon I’m as ready now as I ever will be.’

“With that Brother Bear hugged Brother Tiger pretty tight, whirled around with him a time or two, fell on him, and then cuffed him, first on one ear and then on the other. It was all done so quick that Brother Tiger didn’t have time to say don’t. He got up and felt of his ribs to see if they were still whole, and then he rubbed the side of his head where Brother Bear had cuffed him. It had already begun to swell. His breeches were badly ripped, and he was sore all over.

“Says he, ‘And so this is what you call wrestling—this is what I was itching for, is it?’

“‘Oh, no!’ says Brother Bear. ‘It wouldn’t do to call that wrestling. That was only playing. I was just showing you the first few capers: you can’t wrestle until you learn how. I’ll drop by your house to-morrow morning, bright and early, and give you another whirl.’

“Brother Tiger looked mighty solemn, but he didn’t say anything. He ambled off home as well as he could in his condition, and got his old woman to mend his breeches. She wanted to know who he had been fighting with, but he told her he had just been playing with Brother Bear. She laughed, and said that when he had played that way a few more times there wouldn’t be enough of him left, neither breeches, body, nor bones, to sew up in a bag.

“Well, the next morning, bright and early, Brother Bear rapped at Brother Tiger’s door, and told him to come out and take some exercise before breakfast. Brother Tiger didn’t like this invitation at all. He said he wanted to sleep a little longer; but Brother Bear sent in word that the night was made for sleeping, while the day was made for work and play. Now, it so happened that the honey which Brother Tiger had ate had put a spell on him, and when Brother Bear asked him out to wrestle he had to come. He pulled on his clothes with no good heart, for he was still very sore, and came limping out, trying to put a good face on the affair. Brother Bear laughed, and told Brother Tiger howdy, but Brother Tiger didn’t make much of a reply.

“So Brother Bear says, says he, ‘I hope you are not begrudging your bargain, Brother Tiger, but you made it yourself, and at no invitation of mine. I had the seven pieces of honey-in-the-comb, and you had the bad taste in the mouth. I told you how it would be, but you would have the honey, and now you’ll have to stand to your bargain: you can’t help yourself now. I told you the plain truth about it, but you wouldn’t believe it. You’ll find out the truth before you get the taste of that honey out of your mouth.’

“Then they made a few passes at each other; but Brother Bear finally grabbed Brother Tiger around his striped waist, squeezed the breath out of him, dashed him on the ground, cuffed his ears, and then stood there on his hind legs, waiting to see what Brother Tiger was going to do. But Brother Tiger didn’t want any more wrestling for that day. He went into the house and washed his face and hands, and sat down and licked his bruises the best he could.

“But the next morning he had to come out and wrestle again, and this happened until he was so weak he could hardly walk. His hide was split, his ears were swollen, and every stripe on his long body was crossed by a scar. Wrestling was fine fun for Brother Bear, who was used to it, but it was no fun for Brother Tiger, who didn’t know how. Every time he wrestled he got new bruises, and his head swelled until he could hardly get in the door of his house without backing his ears.

“Finally, one day he told Brother Bear candidly that he would rather give up his house and lot than to be tossed around and cuffed at that rate. Brother Bear said that he would rather wrestle and have a jolly time than to take Brother Tiger’s house; but Brother Tiger wouldn’t hear to that. He said he couldn’t stay in that part of the country and hear the talk of the neighbors. They would pester him mighty near to death on the week days, and fairly kill him out on Sunday, when they had nothing to do but sit around and gossip.

“So Brother Tiger moved out, and Brother Bear moved in; and it has come to pass that Brother Tiger won’t stay in the same country with Brother Bear for fear that he will have to do some more wrestling.”

XIX.

THE SHOEMAKER WHO MADE BUT ONE SHOE.

“Now, I’ll tell you honestly,” said Little Mr. Thimblefinger, popping out from under Mr. Rabbit’s big armchair, “I don’t like such stories. They give me the all-overs. I expect maybe it’s because they are true.”

“No doubt that’s the trouble with them,” remarked Mr. Rabbit in a tone unusually solemn. “You don’t think that at my time of life my tongue is nimble enough for me to sit here and make up stories to suit the hour and the company? By the bye,” he continued, turning around so as to catch Little Mr. Thimblefinger’s eye, “what stories were you talking about?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, I was fast asleep, for the most part, but I distinctly remember something about Moons and Monkeys. When I heard that, I just went off to sleep in spite of myself.”

“There’s no accounting for tastes,” said Mr. Rabbit. “There are some tales that put me to sleep, and I have no complaint to make when anybody begins to doze over them that I tell.”

“Oh, you tell ’em well enough,” Little Mr. Thimblefinger declared. “If anything, you make them better than they ought to be. You lift your ears at the right place, and pat your foot when the time comes. I don’t know what more could be asked in telling a story.”

“So far so good,” remarked Mrs. Meadows, who had thus far said nothing. “Suppose you whirl in and tell us the kind of tale that you really admire.”

“That’s easier said than done,” replied Little Mr. Thimblefinger, fidgeting about a little. “You have to take the tales as they come. Sometimes one will pop into your head in spite of yourself. You remember it just because you didn’t like it when you first heard it.”

“Tell us one, anyway, just to pass away the time,” said Sweetest Susan.

“If I tell you one,” Little Mr. Thimblefinger replied, “I’ll not promise it will be one that I like. That would be promising too much. But the talk about the Moon, that I heard before I dozed off just now, reminded me of a tale I heard when I was a good deal smaller than I am now.