Part 4

But when it came night they had gotten nothing like a Thanksgiving dinner, nor did they have any invitation to eat one with friends, either.

“I—I wish we were home,” said Beckie, and some tears came into her eyes. The tears didn’t quite fall out, but almost.

“Well, wait until to-morrow,” suggested Neddie. “Something may happen then, and it isn’t Thanksgiving until to-morrow, you know.”

Well, the next day came. It was Thanksgiving, and still there was no sign of a fine, big dinner for the bears or the Professor. They had slept that night in the woods, the Professor cuddling up close to big George to keep warm in the bear’s thick fur. And though they had some cookies and cakes and apples to eat, it was far from being what Beckie or Neddie would have had, had they not run away from their cave-house.

“We’ll travel on,” said the Professor, “and see what happens.”

Well, they had not gone very far, before all of a sudden they saw a man running through the woods. And right after him came a big lion, roaring as loudly as he could roar. And the lion was switching his tail from side to side, and every now and then, reaching out his claws to grab the man.

“Oh, save me! Save me!” cried the man.

“Bur-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r!” roared the lion.

“Oh, can’t you help the poor man?” asked Beckie, of George, the big bear.

“I’ll try,” said George. Then he ran after the lion, and with the long pole which the Professor let George carry as a soldier-gun, George tripped up the roaring lion beast. Just then the Professor blew a loud blast on his brass horn, and Beckie and Neddie threw a lot of oak tree acorns at the lion. All this frightened the lion very much, especially when he felt the acorns hitting him. He thought they were bullets, and he thought the noise of the brass horn meant that a lot of soldiers were coming after him.

So away ran the lion through the woods, and the man was safe. Oh, how thankful he was!

“You saved my life,” he said to the Professor, and to Neddie and Beckie and George. “What can I do for you? where are you going?”

“We are looking for a Thanksgiving dinner,” said the Professor, “but we have not found it yet.”

“Ha! Say no more!” cried the man, quickly. “Come with me! I will give you the best Thanksgiving dinner you ever ate!”

“Who are you?” asked Beckie.

“I am a circus man,” answered the one the lion had chased. “But we do not give shows in winter. I have all my animals in a big barn, not far away. This morning that lion would not bring in a pail of milk when I asked him to, and to punish him I said he could have no dinner. So he chased me, and I don’t know what he would have done had he caught me. But you saved me, the lion has run away, and I suppose a policeman monkey will catch him. But you—come to my animal barn and you may have the dinner I was going to give the lion, as well as all you can eat besides. Come on!”

“Oh, at last we are to have a Thanksgiving dinner!” cried Neddie. “Oh, joy!” And Beckie clapped her paws.

Then the Professor and Beckie and Neddie and George, the big bear, followed the circus man. He led them to a big barn in the woods. And, oh! all the animals that were there—elephants and tigers and good lions, and zebras and more bears and lots of monkeys, and giraffes with necks so long that they could pick an orange off a church steeple, and cunning little ponies, and a hippopotamus with a mouth like a red flannel bag—and hundreds of others.

“Welcome to our Thanksgiving dinner!” all the animals cried to Beckie and Neddie when they saw the Stubtail children. “Eat all you want!”

And such a dinner as it was! From cranberry sauce to popcorn balls and honey cakes and blueberry pie and chestnuts and cider—and, oh, dear! I mustn’t write any more about it or I’ll get the indigspepsia. Anyhow it was a grand dinner, and in the middle of it who should come back but the bad lion who had chased the circus man.

“I’m—I’m sorry I was bad,” roared the lion. “May I have a piece of pie?” Then the circus man forgave him, and the lion had a good dinner. And Beckie and Neddie stayed in the circus barn all night, feeling quite happy.

And I hope you have a good dinner on Thanksgiving—each and every one of you. But don’t eat too much. Then on the page after this, if the fishman doesn’t blow his horn in the phonograph and scare the player-piano, I’ll tell you about Neddie and the elephant.

STORY X NEDDIE AND THE ELEPHANT

It was the day after Thanksgiving. Neddie and Beckie Stubtail, the two little bear children, awoke in the barn where the circus man kept all his animals during winter, when he was not giving a show in the big tent. Neddie and Beckie felt very nice and comfortable, for they had had a good holiday dinner when they had almost given up expecting one; they had a nice warm place to sleep, and they were happier than at any time since they had run away from home to join George, the big trained bear, and the Professor, his master, who led George around by a chain fast to a ring in his nose.

“Are you there, Neddie?” called Beckie from her bed in the nice clean sawdust. She was hugging her doll Mary Ann Puddingstick Clothespin.

“Of course I’m here,” answered Neddie, blinking both his eyes, and wiggling his little short tail. “Aren’t you glad you ran away now with me, sister, so you can become a trained bear?”

“Yes—I guess so,” answered Beckie. “Still, I’d like to see my mamma, and nice fat Aunt Piffy, just once.”

“Oh, we’ll go back home pretty soon,” said Neddie. “When we have earned some money. Then papa and mamma will forgive us for running away.”

“I hope so,” went on Beckie. “And I hope that Uncle Wigwag won’t play any jokes on us.”

“Oh, he’s sure to do that, but we mustn’t mind,” said Neddie, as he hopped up and shook the sawdust out of his ears.

George, the tame bear who did tricks, was already up, and he was waltzing around to where a lot of monkey ladies were getting breakfast for the circus animals. Then the Professor, who led George around by the nose when the bear did tricks, stretched out and yawned and said to the circus man:

“It was very kind of you to let us stay here all night.”

“Pray do not mention it,” said the circus man politely. “I hope you rested well.”

“Yes, but I did not get to sleep very early,” said the bear Professor. “I think perhaps I ate too much mince pie, with strawberry ice cream on it.”

“And I didn’t sleep very good, either,” went on Beckie. “But it was because the elephant snored so that I was afraid he would shake the roof down on our heads.”

“Oh, you mustn’t mind that,” said the circus man with a laugh. “Nosey, that’s the elephant’s name, you see, really never does any harm. He’s as gentle as a kitten and as playful as a frog.”

“Well, I wouldn’t like him to jump on me,” said Neddie with a laugh. “He’s a good bit larger than Bully, the frog, who lives near the beaver pond back home.”

Then breakfast was ready, and the monkey ladies waited on the tables at which the circus animals sat down. And, in order that they would not step on their own tails, the monkey ladies tied them around their necks in a double bow. This made them look nice, and also kept them from catching cold in their ears.

Neddie and Beckie Stubtail had a good breakfast and they were thinking of staying with the circus man, instead of going off looking for adventures with George, the Professor, when the circus man called:

“All ready now! First class in somersaults!”

“Why, he sounds just like our school teacher!” exclaimed Neddie. “I didn’t think we’d have school when we left our home.”

“This isn’t regular school,” explained the circus man, “but my animals have to study their lessons, just the same. How do you think an elephant could waltz and play a hand organ, to say nothing of standing on a tub and wagging his tail, if he did not have lessons and practise them? Of course we have to have a sort of school.”

“And I think I’ll send Neddie and Beckie to it,” said the Professor. “They could learn tricks then much better than I could teach them, and George and I would have more time to collect pennies and buns and popcorn balls.”

“Would you like to go to school to me, and learn tricks?” asked the circus man of the bear children, and they said they would.

“Very well, then,” said the circus man. “As soon as I have taught my new elephant how to stand on his head I’ll begin, and give you a lesson.”

Then the new elephant, who, as yet, knew hardly any tricks, had to get out in the middle of the sawdust ring and learn to stand on his head. It was not easy, either. One of the older elephants had to show the new elephant a number of times before he could do it even a little bit. But finally he could, and the circus man said:

“Now stay standing on your head for ten minutes, Frisko. It will be good practice for you. Don’t get down! Stay right as you are. Now then, second class in fast running!” and the circus man took a lot of ponies over to one side of the barn to have them practice for the races.

And all the while, Frisko, the new elephant, had to stand on his head. The Professor took George, the bear, off to one side of the circus barn to teach his pet a new trick, and as Beckie had to wash and dress her rubber doll, Neddie was left with nothing to do. So he walked over and watched the new elephant learning the trick of standing on his head.

“Do you like it?” asked Neddie, the bear boy, of the elephant.

“Oh, yes, I don’t mind,” said the big creature. “Oh, dear!” he suddenly cried. “Oh, me! Oh, my!” and a big tear, about as large as a cup of water, came in each of the elephant’s eyes.

“Why, what is the matter?” asked Neddie kindly.

“Oh, my back itches me something terrible!” said Frisko, the elephant, “and I daren’t get down from standing on my head to scratch it. Oh, dear!”

Now, if there is one thing worse than another it is to have an itchy place where you can’t scratch it. Neddie knew this as well as anybody. It’s as bad as wanting to sneeze when some one scares you out of it, and really that’s the very worst thing that can happen.

“Oh, my!” went on the elephant, and he wiggled about, and tried to scratch the itchy place on his back, but he couldn’t, and he didn’t dare get down from standing on his head, for fear the circus man would be angry at him, and oh! such a lot of trouble as he had.

But Neddie thought of a plan.

“How would you like to have me scratch your back for you Frisko?” asked the little bear boy. “I won’t dig my claws in very deep. Shall I scratch you?”

“If you only would,” sighed the elephant. So Neddie gently scratched the big creature who was standing on his head. “Ah, that is lovely. I feel so much better now,” said the elephant. “I can stand this way as long as I have to.”

But he did not have to stand on his head much longer, for the circus man came over pretty soon and said to Frisko:

“That will do. You recited your lesson very nicely. Now you may go to the kitchen and get a lump of sugar.”

And the elephant did—a large lump, for he had a large mouth, you know.

“Now, Neddie Stubtail, I think I’ll see what sort of lesson tricks I’ll give you to study,” went on the circus man. “First, let me see you climb up this pole.”

There was a big round pole, like a telegraph one, sticking up in the middle of the circus barn floor.

“Oh, I can’t do that!” said Neddie. But then he remembered how he and Beckie had once gone up the telegraph pole the time the skillery-scalery alligator was after them. Up and up went Neddie, sticking his claws into the soft wood. Beckie, watching her brother, felt very proud of him, and so did George, the tame trained bear.

Neddie was almost at the top, when, all of a sudden, the pole began to tip over and over and over.

“Oh, it’s falling!” cried Beckie. “Neddie, look out! You’ll be hurt!”

No one knew what to do. There was great excitement. The lions roared and the tigers snarled. Then Frisko, the elephant, who had practiced standing on his head, and whose back Neddie had so kindly scratched, came rushing up, swallowing the last of his lump of sugar, and this elephant cried:

“Make way for me. I am strong. I can hold up that pole until you make it fast so it will not fall. I’ll save Neddie.”

And the elephant did. In his strong trunk he held the pole up straight until other elephants nailed it to make it firm and steady. Then Neddie could come safely down. The elephant had saved him. So you see you should always scratch an elephant’s back when you can.

And now about the next story. Let me see. I think, in case the feathers in the lady’s hat do not tickle the milk pitcher so that it falls off the table and spills all the cream, I’ll tell you about Beckie and the monkey.

STORY XI BECKIE AND THE MONKEY

Many things happened to Neddie and Beckie Stubtail, the little bear boy and girl, while they stayed with the circus man in the barn where they had their Thanksgiving dinner. Oh many, many things happened, but I have only room to tell you of a few of them.

The two little bears cubs had been in the circus barn about a week, and though they liked it very much, and, though George, the tame trained bear, and his master, the Professor, and the other man, and the elephant and the lions and tigers were all very kind to Neddie and Beckie, they began to wish they were home.

“I—I’m sort of sorry we ran away,” said Beckie one morning, as she put a new dress on her rubber doll, Mary Ann Puddingstick Clothespin. It was only her own pocket handkerchief that Beckie used for a doll’s dress, but it did very well for all that.

“I guess I’m a bit sorry, too,” said Neddie. “We have learned some tricks, to be sure, and I can turn a somersault almost as good as George can, but still it isn’t as much fun as I though it would be.”

“I guess running away never is,” said Beckie.

“But we have had some fun,” went on Neddie.

“Do you mean the time you did the trick of climbing the pole here in the barn, and it toppled over with you and the elephant had to hold it up?” asked Beckie. “Was that fun?”

“I was too scared to think it was funny, but it might have been jolly for the others,” laughed Neddie.

Then the two little bear children, who had run away from their home in the cave-house on the side of the hill, walked around the circus barn. They listened to the lions having their roaring lessons, in which the seals, who juggled rubber balls on the ends of their noses, also joined. Then Neddie and Beckie looked at the tall giraffes take a lesson in picking oranges off the top rafters of the barn, and at the hippopotamus, who had to have his sore throat looked at by Dr. Possum, who always attended the sick circus animals.

“My! You have a very sore throat,” said Dr. Possum to the hippopotamus when he had looked at it. The hippo opened his mouth so wide that Dr. Possum could get right inside, which he did, sitting on the hippo’s tongue in order to see better. “Yes, a very sore throat,” went on Dr. Possum. “You must gargle it.”

So he gave the hippo some medicine, and the hippo gargled his throat and really he made such a funny noise, like thunder, doing it that Beckie and Neddie had to laugh. And that made the hippo sneeze so that he could not gargle.

“When are we going out traveling around again?” asked Neddie of the Professor and George. “Are we always going to stay here with the circus animals?”

“No, indeed,” answered the Professor as he blew a nice tune on his brass horn. “But it is getting too cold for traveling now, and sleeping out in the woods. Besides, all the children are saving up their pennies for Christmas, and they will not drop any in my cap when I go around after George has done his tricks.

“So I think we will stay with the kind circus man and his pets for some time—at least until it gets warmer. Meanwhile, Neddie, I want to show you a new trick that you can do with George. I’ll have you ride on his shoulders, carrying a broom, and I think that will make the people laugh, and when people laugh they give you more pennies than otherwise.”

“Oh, goodie! I’m going to learn another trick!” cried Neddie in delight. Then the Professor took the little bear boy off to one side of the barn, near the place where the elephants slept in the hay, and, with the big, kind, tame bear, George, they practiced the new trick, the Professor blowing a tooting-toot-toot-tune on his brass horn every once in a while.

This left Beckie to play by herself, but she was not lonesome, for she had her rubber doll to take care of, and she could watch the hippo gargle his big red flannel throat, and she looked at the monkeys doing tricks in their cages.

Beckie was not very lonesome. But perhaps if she and Neddie could have seen what was going on back in their cave-house by the hill, they would have run to their papa and mamma as fast as their legs would take them, for Mr. and Mrs. Stubtail were very lonesome for their children. So was Aunt Piffy, the fat bear lady, and also Uncle Wigwag and Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear.

“If my children do not soon come home to me,” said Mrs. Stubtail, wiping her eyes on her apron, “I don’t know what I shall do.”

“I know,” said Mr. Whitewash, “Uncle Wiggily Longears, the rabbit gentleman, and I will start off and find them. If Uncle Wiggily could find his fortune he can find lost children.”

“That is a good idea,” said Papa Stubtail. “If Neddie and Beckie do not soon come back I’ll get Uncle Wiggily after them.”

And, all this while, mind you, Neddie and Beckie were in the circus barn.

Well, after Beckie had given her rubber doll a nice wash in the parrot’s bathtub, the little bear girl heard some one crying. At first she thought it might be some bad animal, pretending to be in trouble, so as to catch something for his supper. Then Beckie remembered that she was safe in the circus barn, where all the animals were her friends.

So she looked around, and there she saw a great big grandfather monkey crying, and holding his face in his paw. He was all hunched up and stooped over as if he hadn’t a friend in the world, and he looked very sorrowful.

“Oh, what is the matter?” asked Beckie, kindly.

“I have a terrible toothache,” said the monkey gentleman.

“Oh, that’s too bad!” exclaimed Beckie. She knew what a toothache was, once having had one herself. “Why don’t you do something for it?” she asked.

“I don’t know what to do,” said the grandfather monkey. “That is, unless I have it pulled, and I don’t want to do that.”

“I don’t blame you,” said Beckie, “still it might be better to have it out.”

“If they could just pull out the ache, and leave the tooth in, I would not mind it so much,” went on the monkey. “But when they pull the tooth just to get out the ache—that is too much! Oh, dear!” and he almost stood up on the end of his tail, the pain was so bad.

Beckie glanced about the circus barn. No one seemed to be looking after the toothache monkey. All the other monkeys were practicing on their hand organs, and all the other animals were reciting their different lessons. Beckie and the old Grandfather monkey were all by themselves.

“I know what I’ll do,” said the little bear girl. “I’ll just slip out and go to Dr. Possum’s and get some toothache medicine for you. That may stop your pain.”

“Oh, will you?” cried the grandpa monkey. “That will be very kind of you.”

So Beckie left her rubber doll asleep, and slipped out of the circus barn when no one was looking. She hurried to Dr. Possum’s office and got some very strong medicine. Then, when she went back, she put some on some cotton and then she put the cotton in the hole of the monkey’s tooth, and soon it was all better.

Then, as Beckie had nothing else to do, she thought she would go to sleep with her doll, which she did, lying down in the soft, clean sawdust. Beckie slept and slept, and so she did not see the bad old skillery-scalery alligator slip in through the barn door which she had left open when she came in with the toothache medicine.

Nearer and nearer came the ’gator to Beckie. She did not see him, neither did Neddie nor the circus man, nor the Professor nor George, the big bear, or they might have driven him away.

“Ah, ha! Now I’ll get her!” whispered the alligator to himself. “She is asleep and can’t see me. I’ll just carry her off to my den, and then—Ah, we shall see what will happen then!”

But Beckie was not to be carried off by the ’gator. All of a sudden the grandpa monkey, whose toothache was all better now, saw the skillery-scalery creature.

“Wake up, Beckie! Wake up!” cried the good monkey. “Get out of the way, and I’ll attend to that alligator.”

Beckie awakened, and rolled out of the way just in time, or the alligator might have grabbed her. Then the monkey took four pawfuls of sawdust and threw it in the eyes of the alligator and down his throat and into his mouth and nose and ears, making the ’gator sneeze forty-’leven times. And whenever a ’gator sneezes that way he can’t harm anybody.

That’s what happened to this skillery-scalery alligator, and away he went, taking his humpy-bumpy tail with him. So Beckie was saved, which shows that you should always stop a monkey’s toothache when you can.

Then the bear children and the circus animals had their supper, and there was pickled ice cream for those who wanted it. And, in the next story, if the baby doesn’t sit down in the peach basket so tightly that we have to take the poker to get her out, I’ll tell you about Neddie and Beckie going back home.

STORY XII NEDDIE AND BECKIE GO HOME

“Oh, Neddie!” exclaimed Beckie Stubtail, the little girl bear, as she rolled over in the clean shavings on the floor of the barn where the circus animals stayed during the cold winter months.

“Oh, Neddie, I’ve just thought of the nicest game we can play! Oh, it’s just too lovely for anything!”

“Pooh! A girl’s game!” answered Neddie, the boy bear, as he looked under a pile of sawdust to see if he could find popcorn ball, or maybe an ice cream cone. Mind, I’m not saying for sure, but maybe. Anyhow, Neddie found nothing good to eat, so it doesn’t make any difference.

“I don’t want to play any girls’ games,” went on Neddie.

I don’t call Neddie very polite, myself, but then you may think differently. Beckie looked sort of disappointed, and her paws, in which she was holding Mary Ann Puddingstick Clothespin, her rubber doll, trembled a little, and Beckie thought sure she was going to have to use her pocket “hankerwitch” (which is just the same of your handkerchief) to wipe away her tears.

For Beckie was lonesome, and she wanted her mamma, and the little girl bear wished she hadn’t run away from home with her brother to go with the Professor and George, the big, tame, trained bear with the ring in his nose. Yes, indeed, Beckie was sorry she had run away.

I guess Neddie was sorry, too, for, after pawing about a bit in the sawdust, he looked at his sister, and when he saw her lips quivering, and that she was trying to reach for her hankerwitch without him seeing it—then Neddie did what he should have done at first, and said:

“Oh, well, Beckie, maybe a girl’s game would be nice after all. We aren’t doing much here. Tell me about it.”

“I will,” said Beckie, and she brightened up and smiled as well as little girl bears can smile, and she patted her little rubber doll, and said:

“Now, Neddie, just as soon as Mary Ann Puddingstick Clothespin is asleep I’ll tell you about the trick I thought up all by myself.”

So Neddie waited until the rubber doll should close her eyes, and go fast, fast to sleep. It took some time.

“Well, isn’t that doll asleep yet?” asked Neddie after a bit. He was anxious to know what trick Beckie was going to tell about.