Part 3

Trip trap, trip trap, his great feet tramped across the boards.

“Who is that tramping over my bridge?” called up the Troll.

“It is I, the great Billy Goat Gruff, going over to the hillside to make myself fat,” the Goat called back in a great voice.

“I am coming to gobble you up, Billy Goat Gruff,” said the Troll.

“Come along,” said the great Billy Goat Gruff.

So the Troll, whose eyes were as large as saucers and his nose as long as a poker, came hurrying up to the top of the bridge,—but, ah, this is what happened to him.

There on the bridge stood the great Billy Goat Gruff with his feet firmly planted on the boards and his head lowered, and as soon as the Troll came near—rush, scamper—the Goat tossed the Troll so high with his horns that no one has ever seen a Troll under a bridge from that day to this.

Then the great Billy Goat Gruff went on to the hillside, and the three Billy Goats ate, and ate, and made themselves so fat that they could scarcely walk home again.

THE HOBYAHS.

Once upon a time there lived a little old man and a little old woman in a house all made of hemp stalks. And they had a little dog named Turpie who always barked when any one came near the house.

One night when the little old man and the little old woman were fast asleep, creep, creep, through the woods came the Hobyahs, skipping along on the tips of their toes.

“Tear down the hemp stalks. Eat up the little old man, and carry away the little old woman,” cried the Hobyahs.

Then little dog Turpie ran out, barking loudly, and he frightened the Hobyahs so that they ran away home again. But the little old man woke from his dreams, and he said:

“Little dog Turpie barks so loudly that I can neither slumber nor sleep. In the morning I will take off his tail.”

So when it came morning, the little old man took off little dog Turpie’s tail to cure him of barking.

The second night along came the Hobyahs, creep, creep through the woods, skipping along on the tips of their toes, and they cried:

“Tear down the hemp stalks. Eat the little old man, and carry away the little old woman.”

Then the little dog Turpie ran out again, barking so loudly that he frightened the Hobyahs, and they ran away home again.

But the little old man tossed in his sleep, and he said:

“Little dog Turpie barks so loudly that I can neither slumber nor sleep. In the morning I will take off his legs.”

So when it came morning, the little old man took off Turpie’s legs to cure him of barking.

The third night the Hobyahs came again, skipping along on the tips of their toes, and they called out:

“Tear down the hemp stalks. Eat up the little old man, and carry away the little old woman.”

Then little dog Turpie barked very loudly, and he frightened the Hobyahs so that they ran away home again.

But the little old man heard Turpie, and he sat up in bed, and he said:

“Little dog Turpie barks so loudly that I can neither slumber nor sleep. In the morning I will take off his head.”

So when it came morning, the little old man took off Turpie’s head, and then Turpie could not bark any more.

That night the Hobyahs came again, skip-ping along on the tips of their toes, and they called out:

“Tear down the hemp stalks. Eat the little old man, and carry off the little old woman.”

Now, since little dog Turpie could not bark any more, there was no one to frighten the Hobyahs away. They tore down the hemp stalks, they took the little old woman away in their bag, but the little old man they could not get, for he hid himself under the bed.

Then the Hobyahs hung the bag which held the little old woman up in their house, and they poked it with their fingers, and they cried:

“Look you! Look you!”

But when it came daylight, they went to sleep, for Hobyahs, you know, sleep all day.

The little old man was very sorry when he found that the little old woman was gone. He knew then what a good little dog Turpie had been to guard the house at night, so he brought Turpie’s tail, and his legs, and his head, and gave them back to him again.

Then Turpie went sniffing and snuffing along to find the little old woman, and soon came to the Hobyahs’ house. He heard the little old woman crying in the bag, and he saw that the Hobyahs were all fast asleep. So he went inside.

Then he cut open the bag with his sharp teeth, and the little old woman hopped out and ran home; but Turpie got inside the bag to hide.

When it came night, the Hobyahs woke up, and they went to the bag, and they poked it with their long fingers, crying:

“Look you! Look you!”

But out of the bag jumped little dog Turpie, and he ate every one of the Hobyahs. And that is why there are not any Hobyahs now.

THE KID WHO WOULD NOT GO.

Once upon a time I was walking across London Bridge, and I found a penny. So I bought a little kid. But the kid would not go. And I saw by the moonlight it was long past midnight. It was time kid and I were home an hour and a half ago.

Then I met a staff, and to the staff I said:

“Staff, staff, drive kid. I see by the moonlight it is long past midnight. It is time kid and I were home an hour and a half ago.”

But the staff would not drive kid.

Then I met a hatchet, and to the hatchet I said:

“Hatchet, chop staff, staff will not drive kid. I see by the moonlight it is long past midnight. It is time kid and I were home an hour and a half ago.”

But the hatchet would not chop staff.

Then I met a torch, and to the torch I said:

“Torch, burn hatchet, hatchet will not chop staff, staff will not drive kid. I see by the moonlight it is long past midnight. It is time kid and I were home an hour and a half ago.”

But the torch would not burn the hatchet.

Then I met the wind, and to the wind I said:

“Wind, put out torch, torch will not burn hatchet, hatchet will not chop staff, staff will not drive kid. I see by the moonlight it is long past midnight. It is time kid and I were home an hour and a half ago.”

But the wind would not put out the fire.

Then I met a tree, and to the tree I said:

“Tree, stop wind, wind will not put out torch, torch will not burn staff, staff will not drive kid. I see by the moonlight it is long past midnight. It is time kid and I were home an hour and a half ago.”

But the tree would not.

Then I met a wee mouse, and to the mouse I said:

“Mouse, gnaw tree, tree will not stop wind, wind will not put out torch, torch will not burn staff, staff will not drive kid. I see by the moonlight it is long past midnight. It is time kid and I were home an hour and a half ago.”

Then the wee, wee mouse began to gnaw the tree, the tree began to stop the wind, the wind began to put out the torch, the torch began to burn the staff, the staff began to drive the kid, and the kid began to go.

See by the moonlight it is almost midnight. But kid and I were home an hour and a half ago.

THE ROBIN’S CHRISTMAS SONG.

Once upon a time there was an old gray Pussy and she was down by the waterside when the trees and ground were white with snow. And there she saw a wee, wee Robin Redbreast hopping upon a branch, so Pussy said to him:

“Where are you going, Robin Redbreast, this frosty Yuletide weather?”

Then the wee, wee Robin said to the Pussy, “I am going to the King to sing him a song this good Yule morning.”

And the gray Pussy replied, “Go not yet. Come here, Robin Redbreast, and I will let you see the bonny white necklace I wear around my neck.”

But the wee, wee Robin said, “No, no, gray Pussy. You may show the bonny white necklace that you wear around your neck to the little mice, but not to me.”

Then off flew the wee, wee Robin until he came to a wall of turf and there he saw a greedy Hawk sitting and watching to see what small birds passed by. And the greedy Hawk called to him and said, “Where are you going, Robin Redbreast, this frosty Yuletide weather?”

Then the wee, wee Robin said to the Hawk, “I am going to the King to sing him a song this good Yule morning.”

And the greedy Hawk replied, “Go not yet. Come here, Robin Redbreast, and I’ll let you see a bonny green feather that I wear in my wing.”

But the wee, wee Robin said, “No, no, greedy Hawk. You have pecked all the tiny birds but you’ll not peck me.”

Then off flew the wee, wee Robin until he came to a hollow in the hillside and there he saw a sly Fox sitting. The sly Fox saw Robin and called to him, “Where are you going, Robin Redbreast, this frosty Yuletide weather?”

Then the wee, wee Robin said to the Fox, “I am going to the King to sing him a song this good Yule morning.”

And the sly Fox replied, “Go not yet. Come here, Robin Redbreast, and I will show you a bonny spot on the tip of my tail.”

But the wee, wee Robin said, “No, no, sly Fox. You may show the bonny spot on the tip of your tail to the lambs but not to me.”

Then off flew the wee, wee Robin until he came to a little shepherd Lad sitting beside his cot. The little shepherd Lad saw Robin and called to him, “Where are you going, Robin Redbreast, this frosty Yuletide weather?”

Then the wee, wee Robin said to the shepherd Lad, “I am going to the King to sing him a song this good Yule morning.”

And the shepherd Lad replied, “Go not yet. Come here and I will give you some crumbs from my pouch.”

But the wee, wee Robin said, “No, no, little shepherd Lad. You caught the goldfinch but you’ll not catch me.”

Then off flew the wee, wee Robin until he came to the King, and he sat down upon a plowshare just outside of the King’s window, and he sang him a pretty song because it was such a good Yule morning. The King was very much pleased indeed and he said to the Queen, “What shall we give the wee, wee Robin Redbreast for singing us such a pretty song?”

The Queen thought and thought and at last she decided. “I think we will give the wee, wee Robin Redbreast a wee Wren to be his wife,” the Queen said to the King.

So the wee, wee Robin Redbreast and the wee Wren were married and the King, and the Queen, and all the court, and the whole countryside danced at their wedding. And after the wedding the two flew home to the Robin’s own waterside.

THE STORY OF IBBITY.

Once upon a time there was a little brown boy named Ibbity. He lived in a warm country where there are jungles and tigers and sandy deserts. Now Ibbity was always wondering about things, and one day he said to his mother:

“I wonder, oh, I do wonder what is the strongest thing in the world.”

But his mother could not tell him, so Ibbity started off by himself to find out.

He went a long, long way, and at last he came to a tree. Up the tree climbed Ibbity and looked abroad over the jungle and the desert for something very big and strong. But just then the top of the tree broke. Bump, down fell little Ibbity to the ground.

“Oh, Tree, you are the strongest thing, are you not?” cried Ibbity, sitting up and rubbing his head. “You are able to throw Ibbity to the ground.”

“No, I am not as strong as the wind,” sighed the tree, “it was the wind that broke my branch.”

Then Ibbity ran far away to the place where the wind was blowing the sand in the desert, and he said:

“Oh, Wind, the tree threw Ibbity, but you broke the tree. Are you not the strongest one?”

“No, I am not the strongest one,” said the wind, “the hill is able to stop my blowing.”

So Ibbity ran on and on, until he came to a high hill, and to the hill he said:

“Oh, Hill, the tree threw Ibbity, and the wind broke the tree, but you are able to stop the wind. Are you not the strongest one?”

“Not I,” said the hill. “At my feet lives a small mouse. She is cutting a tunnel straight through me.”

So Ibbity went down the hill, and looked around in the bushes until he found a small brown mouse. To the mouse he said:

“O Mouse, the tree threw Ibbity, the wind broke the tree, and the hill can stop the wind, but you have dug a tunnel through the hill. Are you not the strongest one?”

“No,” said the mouse. “Cannot the tiger catch me?”

So Ibbity traveled to the jungle, where the tiger lives, and he said:

“Oh, Tiger, the tree threw Ibbity, the wind broke the tree, the hill is able to stop the wind, and the mouse has dug a tunnel through the hill, but you can catch the mouse. Are you not the strongest one?”

But the tiger was caught fast in a net, and he said to Ibbity:

“No, this rope is stronger than I.”

And Ibbity said to the rope:

“Oh, Rope, the tree threw Ibbity, the wind broke the tree, the hill can stop the wind, the mouse has dug a tunnel under the hill, the tiger is able to catch the mouse, but you have caught the tiger. Are you not the strongest one?”

“No,” said the rope, “for the fire burns me.”

So Ibbity ran and ran until he came to a fire, and to the fire he said:

“Oh, Fire, the tree threw Ibbity, the wind broke the tree, the hill stops the wind, the mouse tunnels the hill, the tiger catches the mouse, the rope catches the tiger, but you are able to burn the rope. Are you not the strongest one?”

“No,” said the fire, “my heat is less than that of the great sun.”

Then Ibbity looked up at the sky, and he called loudly to the sun:

“Oh, great Sun, the tree threw Ibbity, the wind broke the tree, the hill stops the wind, the mouse tunnels the hill, the tiger catches the mouse, the rope catches the tiger, the fire burns the rope, but your heat is greater than that of the fire. Are you not the strongest one?”

Then the sun winked its large yellow eye at Ibbity, and never a word did it say, for it was too far off to hear Ibbity’s little voice.

So Ibbity clapped his hands and cried, “I have found the strongest one. It is the sun.”

And little Ibbity went home again to tell his mother.

THE CHIPMUNK WHO CHATTERED TOO MUCH.

Once upon a time, when Indians and animals lived together in the same forest and animals could speak, the Chipmunk was the greatest talker of them all.

He lived in a lodge in the middle of the woods with his grandfather who was very old and wise as well. But the Chipmunk was young, and very daring. He was able to run so fast and climb trees, and jump from one branch to another that he thought nothing in the world could harm him. He had a louder voice then than he has now. He chattered all day long, boasting about himself. At last he became very tiresome to the other animals.

They came at last and spoke to the Chipmunk’s grandfather about him.

“Your grandson chatters so loudly,” scolded the Blue Jay, “that the birds are not able to hear me when I warn them of danger in the forest.”

And the Frog came to the Chipmunk’s grandfather with tears in his eyes. “Your grandson chatters so loudly,” croaked the Frog, “that no one can hear me when I sing on the edge of the stream in the evening.”

It was quite true. The Chipmunk talked and boasted all the time. He chattered as he started out from his lodge in the morning and all the way down the path to let every one know that he was on his way. He chattered when he came to a nut tree and when he picked up some nuts. He had pockets in his cheeks, so he could chatter even when he came home with a mouthful of nuts. There seemed to be no way of keeping this young Chipmunk quiet, and at last his grandfather decided to speak to him about it.

“You are not using your voice as it was meant that you should, my son,” said the Chipmunk’s grandfather. “All the creatures in feathers and fur in the forest speak for a reason. The Ground Hog whistles to call his young, and the Frog croaks when wild beasts creep toward the lodges, and the Robin sings of rain. But you, my son, chatter for no reason except your foolish pride. Beware! the Great Chief will hear you and catch you some day if you do not stop!”

The Chipmunk thought that night of what his grandfather had said. But when morning came, he forgot all about it and took his noisy way through the woods again. He made just as much noise as he could, even after he had reached a hickory-nut tree, and climbed up among the branches.

Suddenly, though, he was still. He heard the leaves on the ground rustle and the twigs crackle with heavy footsteps. Peering down between the branches, the Chipmunk saw the Great Chief of whom his grandfather had warned him. He looked as tall as a young tree and as dark as a thunder cloud. He carried a long bow and a quiver of arrows. He had come for the Chipmunk, and he waited under the tree, looking up among the branches to see when he should come down.

But the leaves on the branches hid the Chipmunk. He gathered a handful of nuts and tossed them down. The Great Chief was thrown off his guard by the trick. He jumped, thinking it was the Chipmunk, but the little fellow scampered down the other side of the tree. He got home to his lodge in safety.

The next day the Chipmunk was even more noisy than ever as he started out. He reached a tree, climbed up in it, and again the Great Chief came with his bow and arrows to kill the chattering little pest. But the Chipmunk gathered a handful of twigs which he threw down at the feet of the Great Chief.

“Here I come,” the Chipmunk chattered. As the Great Chief watched to see him follow the twigs he dropped down on the other side of the tree and once more reached home safe.

When the Chipmunk started out the third morning he had a great piece of news to tell the whole world. He told it just as loudly as he could.

“The Great Chief can’t catch me. He can’t catch me,” boasted the Chipmunk.

He kept on chattering this after he had scampered up a tree, and a very bold plan entered his head.

The Great Chief came at last. He strode angrily until he came to the tree where the Chipmunk sat looking down at him.

“Come down! Come down from this tree!” called the Great Chief in a loud voice.

That was just what the Chipmunk planned to do. He was going to come down and dare the Great Chief to catch him. He felt that he would be safe in doing this. So the Chipmunk came down and stood a second, chattering to the Great Chief, who was so surprised that he did not move at first.

Then the Chipmunk ran and the Great Chief ran after him. It was a race for life, the Chipmunk soon found out, for the Great Chief gained at every step. The Chipmunk leaped and jumped, and panted for breath. On, and on they went, in and out among the trees. The Chipmunk lost his loud voice in fear and no other member of the family has had such a loud one since that day. He could see his lodge with his grandfather waiting for him in the door, but it did not seem possible that he could reach it.

Oh, there he was at the door; but just as he went inside the Great Chief took hold of the Chipmunk with his strong fingers. Although the Chipmunk pulled himself loose, he had a row of long white stripes on his back where the Great Chief had clutched him.

And every other Chipmunk, since then, has had white stripes on his back, because of the first Chipmunk who chattered too much.

HOW THE SQUIRREL GOT WINGS.

Once upon a time the Indians tell us that the Manito was the good spirit of the woods. He taught every wild creature, bird, beast, or fish its own special work. It was then that the Beaver learned how to be a mason, and the Oriole to be a weaver. The Mole learned how to dig long, secret tunnels although he was blind. The Spider was taught to spin and the Bee to make honey.

Then, too, the Manito made the Squirrel the little harvester of the woods, gathering nuts in the fall and digging holes in the earth in which to bury them for the winter. It was planned that the Squirrel should be an example to man of the wisdom of working while others feasted. He gathered food for the days when the wind would howl and the snow drift about his lodge. So the Squirrel spent his days looking for nuts and laying them away for cold weather. With him went his friend, the Woodchuck.

In those days, the Woodchuck ate nuts, and as his legs were short and his feet flat he could not climb trees. His feet were shaped like shovels. He used them for digging himself a little house in the side of a hill where he planned to sleep through the winter until spring should come. But he was very fond of nuts. His friend, the Squirrel, was good enough to take him about the woods and show him the places where nuts were scattered on the ground. The Squirrel gave him half of all the nuts there were. The Woodchuck cracked these with his sharp teeth and ate them all.

The Manito was apt to walk through the forest at night to see if everything was safe. He wished, too, to see if his little wild children had done their work during the day. One evening in the late fall the Manito went through the forest in the form of a night wind. He looked in the door of the Woodchuck’s house in the side of the hill. It was empty!

Taking his way through the trees the Manito saw a little creature in a gray fur blanket creeping softly along from one spot to another. He had short legs, and feet shaped like shovels. It was the Woodchuck. As he came to a place for which he had been looking, the Woodchuck would dig deep down in the earth with his paws. He would bring up a store of nuts and carry them back to his hole in the side of the hill.

“This is not as it should be,” the Manito thought. “I did not plan that my son, the Woodchuck, should harvest at night. Nor did I decree that he should gather nuts.”

Then it came to the mind of the Manito what the Woodchuck was up to!

The next night the Manito had a council fire in the woods and bade all the wild creatures to come to it. He, himself, dressed in fine blankets and feathers like an Indian Chief, sat on a rock before the fire. All his sons, the Squirrel, the Beaver, the Wolf, the Deer, the Otter, the Fox, and the rest, sat in a circle around the fire. There was one vacant place, though. The Woodchuck had not yet come.

At the time for the council to open, the Manito stood up and spoke.

“We are gathered here as a court of law,” he said. “I have learned that my thrifty son, the Squirrel, has been the victim of a thief. He has been busy and saving, as I have taught him to be. He has done his harvesting for the winter. But while he slept a friend robbed him of his nuts. What shall we do to such a false friend?”

“Drown him!” said the Beaver.

“Starve him!” said the Otter.

“Eat him!” barked the Fox and the Wolf.

“Who is he?” asked the gentle Deer.

Just then the Woodchuck tried to slip into his place in the circle without being seen. He had a nut in his mouth so that every one knew at once that he was the thief. He was the false friend of the thrifty Squirrel! The animals rose in a body and would have torn the Woodchuck to pieces at once, or thrown him into the fire. But the Manito raised his hand to quiet them. Then he called the Woodchuck and the Squirrel to come to his side.

“I gave you a place to harvest, in the corn field,” the Manito said to the Woodchuck. “And I gave you a friend who was good enough to share his nuts with you because you are so fond of them. You have disobeyed me, and stolen from your friend. As a punishment I will take out your sharp teeth so that you can never crack a nutshell again. You shall have grinding teeth, for eating only corn.”

Then the Manito asked the Squirrel to come closer to him, and he fitted a pair of wings to his back. “These wings are a reward for your industry,” he said, “and to help you gather another harvest in place of that which the Woodchuck stole from you.”

From the night of that council fire to the present time the Woodchuck has eaten only grains and vegetables. And there have been flying squirrels because of the first Woodchuck who stole from his friend.

HOW THEY BROUGHT HAIRLOCK HOME.

Once upon a time, at the foot of a hill, there lived little Boots and his mother and their nanny goat, who was named Hairlock. Now Hairlock loved to run away over the hill to the mountain, and she could never be found when milking time came at night.