Part 4

One day Boots was ready with his pail and his milking stool, and he called, “Hairlock, Hairlock, come home to Boots,” but Hairlock did not come.

Then Boots’s mother climbed to the top of the hill, and she looked, and she looked, and there she spied Hairlock on the top of a crag, a long way off.

“Naughty Hairlock,” she cried, “come home to Boots. Boots, run to Reynard, the fox, and tell him to bite Hairlock.”

So Boots ran to Reynard, the fox, and he said:

“Good Reynard, bite my nanny goat, Hairlock, who stands on the top of yonder crag, and will not come home to be milked.”

But Reynard said, “Not I, Boots; I’ll not dull my teeth on old Hairlock’s skin, for I hunt to-night. Another time, Boots, another time.”

And Boots went back and told his mother what Reynard had said.

“Then go to Greylegs, the wolf, Boots,” said his mother, “and tell him to bark at naughty Hairlock.”

So Boots ran to Greylegs the wolf, and he said:

“Good Greylegs, bark at my nanny goat, Hairlock, who stands on the top of yonder crag, and will not come home to be milked.”

But Greylegs said, “Some other time, Boots, some other time. The night is cold. I must stay at home and sleep and cover my cubs.”

And Boots went back and told his mother what Greylegs had said.

“Then go to Bruin, the bear,” said his mother, “and bid him chase naughty Hairlock.”

So Boots ran to Bruin, the bear, and he said:

“Good Bruin, chase my nanny goat, Hairlock, who stands on the top of yonder crag, and will not come home to be milked.”

But Bruin said, “Ah, Boots, I am much too fat to chase Hairlock. Go to the fir tree and ask him to trap Hairlock.”

So Boots ran to the fir tree, and he said:

“Good Fir Tree, trap my nanny goat, Hairlock, who stands on the top of yonder crag, and will not come home to be milked.”

But the fir tree only bent and swayed in the wind, and said, “Ask the woodcutter to fell me, Boots.”

So Boots ran to the woodcutter, and he said:

“Good Woodcutter, fell the fir tree, that he may trap my nanny goat, Hairlock, who stands at the top of yonder crag, and will not come home to be milked.”

But the woodcutter said, “Ask the joiner if he will buy my wood, Boots.”

So Boots went to the joiner, and he said:

“Good Joiner, will you buy wood from the woodcutter, that he may fell the fir tree? Then the fir tree will trap my nanny goat, Hairlock, who stands at the top of yonder crag and will not come home to be milked.”

“That I will, Boots,” said the joiner.

Then the woodcutter felled the fir tree and gave the wood to the joiner. The joiner took the wood and made a strong yoke, which he gave to Boots.

Then Boots and his mother ran to the top of the crag and put the yoke on Hairlock.

And that is how they brought Hairlock home.

THE BEAR WHO LOST HIS SUPPER.

Once upon a time old Mother Red Cap was out walking in the forest and she came to a wild cherry tree, the branches of which hung low with cherries. She climbed up the tree to pick her apron full of cherries when along came Bruin, the Bear, walking under the tree. He looked up among the branches and there he saw old Mother Red Cap.

“Come down, Mother,” he growled, “that I may eat you.” Old Mother Red Cap did not want to be eaten by Bruin, the Bear, so she thought, and thought, and then she said:

“You do not want to eat an old woman like me. I will throw you down my shoe and you may gnaw upon that until I can come down to the ground and lead you to my house. I have two little kids there who will make you a savory meal. Have patience, Bruin, until I can climb down.”

This was what old Mother Red Cap said, and she threw down her shoe. Bruin gnawed and gnawed upon the shoe, but he found it very dry eating, so he grew angry. He called up the tree to old Mother Red Cap:

“Come down, Mother, that I may eat you.”

“Just wait a little longer, Bruin, until I have gathered a few more cherries,” said she, and she threw down her other shoe. “Gnaw on this,” she said, “and I will climb down in a few minutes and show you the way to my house.”

Bruin gnawed upon the second shoe but he found it no better than the first. But he contented himself with the thought of the two little kids that he would soon be eating, and he waited beneath the tree until old Mother Red Cap climbed down.

Down she came, with her apron full of cherries; home she went, and Bruin tramped along behind her. When they reached her house, old Mother Red Cap took Bruin, the Bear, out to the barn and showed him the two little kids. He was in a great hurry to get his paws around them, but, “Wait,” said Old Mother Red Cap. “First I must give the two little kids a fine supper that they may be fatter. Go back to the forest for the night and return in the morning. Then the two little kids will be fat enough for you to eat.”

So Bruin, the Bear, went back to the forest for the night. Old Mother Red Cap gave the two little kids a fine, large supper and then she locked the door of the barn and went to bed. Very early in the morning she went out to the barn and unlocked the door and let out the two fat little kids. They scampered off to pasture and were soon so far away that neither hide nor hoof of them could be seen. Then old Mother Red Cap locked the door of the barn again.

Almost as soon as the sun was up, Bruin, the Bear, tramped back from the forest, growling:

“Open the barn door, Mother, that I may eat the two little kids.”

Mother Red Cap stooped down to peep through the key hole of the barn door. Then she shook her head sadly.

“What a pity it is,” sighed old Mother Red Cap, “that the two little kids are gone. Can it be that my two mischievous little grandchildren, Janko and Mirko, unlocked the door and let the kids out?”

At that Bruin, the Bear, was very angry. “Then I must eat your two little grandchildren, Janko and Mirko,” he growled.

This frightened old Mother Red Cap greatly. She thought and thought, and then she said: “My two little grandchildren, Janko and Mirko, are very thin indeed. I must give them three fine meals or they will not be fat enough for you to eat. In the meantime, do you run about through the forest to get yourself a better appetite.”

So Bruin, the Bear, went away and ran about in the woods all the rest of the day. When it was evening he came back with a fine appetite and rapped at the door of old Mother Red Cap’s house.

“Send out Janko and Mirko,” he growled, “and see what short work I will make of them.”

“Oho, I’ll not do that,” laughed old Mother Red Cap from inside the house. “You are too late, Bruin. Janko has just bolted the door so fast that you will not be able to open it and I have put Mirko to bed, where he is fast asleep. You must go back to the forest and come some other day.”

So Bruin, the Bear, saw that old Mother Red Cap had got the best of him and he went back to the forest, hungry, to look for his supper there.

THE RABBIT WHO WAS AFRAID.

Once upon a time, a very long way from here, a little wild Rabbit sat under a tall palm tree. All about him were other tall palm trees and larger animals than he, and the wild rabbit thought and thought. And after the Rabbit had thought a while he said to himself, “What if the earth should crack and swallow me up.”

Just then the wind blew a cocoanut down from a tree and it fell upon the ground right beside the little wild Rabbit. Up he jumped in great fear for now he was sure that what he had dreaded was happening.

“The earth is cracking,” said the Rabbit, and off he hopped as fast as he could, never stopping to try and find out what it was that had made the noise.

As he ran he met his Mother and she said to him, “Why do you run so fast?”

“The earth is cracking,” said the Rabbit, “and I run that I may not be swallowed up by it.”

On ran the Rabbit, and his Mother ran with him.

As they ran, they met his Father and he said to the Rabbit, “Why do you run so fast?”

“The earth is cracking,” said the Rabbit, “and we run that we may not be swallowed up by it.”

On ran the Rabbit and his Mother, and his Father ran with them.

As they ran they met an Elephant, and he said to the Rabbit, “Why do you run so fast?”

“The earth is cracking,” said the Rabbit, “and we run that we may not be swallowed up by it.”

On ran the Rabbit and his Mother and his Father, and the Elephant ran with them.

As they ran they passed a Deer. “Why do you run so fast?” he asked of the Rabbit.

“The earth is cracking,” said the Rabbit, “and we run that we may not be swallowed up by it.”

On ran the Rabbit and his Mother and his Father and the Elephant, and the Deer ran with them.

As they ran they met a Fox. “Why do you run so fast?” the Fox asked of the Rabbit.

“The earth is cracking,” said the Rabbit, “and we run that we may not be swallowed up by it.”

On ran the Rabbit and his Mother and his Father and the Elephant and the Deer, and the Fox ran with them.

As they ran they met all his Relations, and they said to the Rabbit, “Why do you run so fast?”

“The earth is cracking,” said the Rabbit, “and we run that we may not be swallowed up by it.”

On ran the Rabbit and his Mother and his Father and the Elephant and the Deer and the Fox, and a hundred of his Relations ran with him.

As they ran they came upon the Lion, who is the king of the beasts, and the Lion said to the Rabbit, “Why do you run so fast?”

“The earth is cracking,” said the Rabbit, “and we run that we may not be swallowed up by it.”

But the Lion, who is the king of the beasts, did not run. He spoke again. “Which one of you is it who saw the earth cracking?” he asked, because he felt sure that there must be some mistake about it.

“It was not I, O King,” replied the Elephant.

“Nor was it I, O King,” said the Deer and the Fox and each of the Rabbit’s hundred Relations and his Father and his Mother, until all had spoken except the Rabbit himself.

“Is it true that the earth is cracking?” asked the Lion of the Rabbit.

“It is true, O King,” replied the Rabbit. “I sat under a palm tree thinking of what would happen to me if the earth were to break up. Suddenly I heard a loud noise as it cracked.”

“Then we must go back and see how wide the crack is,” said the Lion. “Rabbit, jump upon my back and show me the way.”

So the Rabbit jumped upon the Lion’s back and away they went as fast as the wind, while the other animals all waited for them. The Rabbit guided the Lion to the place where he had sat beneath the palm tree, and the Lion saw the cocoanut lying on the ground.

“What a foolish Rabbit you are!” said the Lion, who is king of all the beasts. Then he went back to the other beasts and told them that the earth had not yet cracked.

If it had not been for the Lion they might all have been running until to-day.

HOW MAPLE SUGAR CAME.

Once upon a time there was a little Indian boy named Son-of-a-Brave. He was very fond indeed of going to the lodge of the village medicine man. Here he listened to all the wise stories that the medicine man told about the forest.

This medicine man was very much thought of by the Indians and they had made him the best lodge in the village. It stood in that part of the forest where the trees were stately, and old, and straight. The lodge, itself, was covered with the most valuable skins. It was filled with gifts of beads, and drums, and arrow heads, and blankets with pictures woven in them.

Son-of-a-Brave used to gather some of the herbs that the medicine man brewed. In return, the Indian boy was allowed to sit inside the lodge, beside the medicine man’s kettle, and listen to his sayings.

“The Indians have something to learn from every beast, and fish, and bird of the forest,” the medicine man said one day.

Son-of-a-Brave felt very proud, because his father was one of the big chiefs of the tribe. He was proud, too, that he, twelve years old, could shoot an arrow as straight as the young braves. So he found it hard to understand the medicine man.

“What does the clumsy Bear teach us?” Son-of-a-Brave asked.

“The value of sleep,” replied the medicine man. “You like to sit up late at night, listening to the talk of your parents around the camp fire. In the morning you have dull eyes and heavy limbs. The Bear comes out from her winter sleep ready to rule the den and fight the whole forest.”

“Well, what does the silly Salmon that hurls himself down the rapids teach us?” asked Son-of-a-Brave.

“The greatest lesson of all—that home is the best place,” replied the medicine man. “The Salmon swims far away from home, but always comes back to the hatching ground through the rapids.”

As Son-of-a-Brave went out through the lodge he was thinking very hard. There had been one question that he had wanted to ask the medicine man, but he had not dared, Of what use was the great stupid Woodpecker that flew from tree to tree? It ran up and down the trunks like a senseless bird, and pounded like a drum with its huge bill.

There was a Woodpecker now. Son-of-a-Brave could see it, head down, on the trunk of a tree, making a hole. It wore a bright red cap, and its black eyes were as bright as those of an Indian. Its big black claws looked like hands. The boy stopped to watch the odd bird. The Woodpecker bored awhile, standing on its head. Then it righted itself and made the hole larger. Last, it put its bill in the hole and pulling it out, tipped its head back as if it were drinking. This was very strange.

When the Woodpecker flew away, Son-of-a-Brave went up to the tree, for he was curious about it. It was still too early in the spring for the tree to have leaves. There was a little snow left on the ground. But the boy knew what kind of tree it was by its bark. He could find others like it all through the woods. He had a very sharp arrow head stuck in his belt. He took it out and began chipping the hole in the tree trunk which the Woodpecker had started, until it was larger. To the Indian boy’s surprise thin sap began to run out of the tree. He put his lips to the hole.

It was sweet sap—as sweet as wild honey!

Son-of-a-Brave stripped some bark from the tree and made a little cup. He filled this with the sweet sap and ran from one lodge to another in the village, asking the braves to taste it. They all said that the sweet sap was good. All the village followed Son-of-a-Brave back to the forest, while he pointed out trees like the one which the Woodpecker had tapped. They bored holes in them, and from each there flowed the first maple syrup. It proved that the medicine man had been right. Even the Woodpecker, who worked upside down, could teach the Indians something.

So the Indians tell us how maple sugar came. But the story tells us also the great wisdom of our little wild brothers in feathers and fur.

THE RABBIT WHO WANTED RED WINGS.

Once upon a time there was a little white Rabbit with two beautiful long pink ears, and two bright red eyes, and four soft little feet—_such_ a pretty little white Rabbit, but he was not happy.

Just think, this little white Rabbit wanted to be somebody else instead of a rabbit!

When Mr. Bushy Tail, the gray squirrel, went by, the little white Rabbit would say to his Mammy:

“Oh, Mammy, I wish I had a long gray tail like Mr. Bushy Tail’s.”

And when Mr. Porcupine went by, the little white Rabbit would say to his Mammy:

“Oh, Mammy, I wish I had a back full of bristles like Mr. Porcupine’s.”

And when Miss Puddle-Duck went by in her two little red rubbers, the little white Rabbit would say:

“Oh, Mammy, I wish I had a pair of red rubbers like Miss Puddle-Duck’s.”

So he went on and on wishing until his Mammy was all tired out with his wishing and Old Mr. Ground Hog heard him one day.

Old Mr. Ground Hog is very wise indeed, so he said to the little white Rabbit:

“Why don’t you go down to the Wishing Pond? If you look in the water at yourself and turn around three times in a circle you will get your wish.”

So the little white Rabbit went off, all alone by himself, through the woods until he came to a little pool of green water lying in a low tree stump. That was the Wishing Pond. There was a little, little bird, all red, sitting on the edge of the Wishing Pond to get a drink, and as soon as the little white Rabbit saw him he began to wish again.

“Oh, I wish I had a pair of little red wings!” he said. Just then he looked in the Wishing Pond and he saw his little white face. Then he turned around three times and something happened. He began to have a queer feeling in his shoulders, like the feeling in his mouth when he was cutting his teeth. It was his wings coming through. So he sat all day in the woods by the Wishing Pond waiting for them to grow, and by and by, when it was almost sundown, he started home to see his Mammy and show her. He had a beautiful pair of long, trailing red wings.

But by the time he reached home it was getting dark. When he went in the hole at the foot of the big tree where he lived, his Mammy didn’t know him. No, she really and truly did not know him, because she had never seen a rabbit with red wings in all her life. And so the little white Rabbit had to go out again, because his Mammy wouldn’t let him get into his own bed. He had to go out and look for some place to sleep all night.

He went and went until he came to Mr. Bushy Tail’s house, and he rapped on the door and said:

“Please, kind Mr. Bushy Tail, may I sleep in your house all night?”

But Mr. Bushy Tail opened his door a crack and then he slammed it tight shut again. You see he had never seen a rabbit with red wings in all his life.

So the little white Rabbit went and went until he came to Miss Puddle-Duck’s nest down by the marsh, and he said:

“Please, kind Miss Puddle-Duck, may I sleep in your nest all night?”

Miss Puddle-Duck poked her head up out of her nest just a little way. Then she shut her eyes and stretched her wings out so far that she covered her whole nest.

You see she had never seen a white rabbit with red wings in all her life.

So the little white Rabbit went and went until he came to Old Mr. Ground Hog’s hole and Old Mr. Ground Hog let him sleep with him all night, but the hole had beech nuts spread all over it. Old Mr. Ground Hog liked to sleep on them, but they hurt the little white Rabbit’s feet and made him very uncomfortable before morning.

When it came morning, the little white Rabbit decided to try his wings and fly a little. He climbed up on a hill, and spread his wings, and sailed off, but he landed in a low bush all full of prickles. There his four feet got mixed up with the twigs so he couldn’t get down.

“Mammy, Mammy, Mammy, come and help me!” he called.

His Mammy didn’t hear him, but old Mr. Ground Hog did. He came and helped the little white Rabbit out of the prickly bush.

“Don’t you want your red wings?” Mr. Ground Hog asked.

“No, _no_!” said the little white Rabbit.

“Well,” said the Old Ground Hog, “why don’t you go down to the Wishing Pond and wish them _off_ again?”

So the little white Rabbit went down to the Wishing Pond and he saw his face in it. Then he turned around three times, and, sure enough, his red wings were gone. Then he went home to his Mammy, who knew him right away and was so glad to see him. And he never, _never_ wished again to be something different from what he really was.

HOW THE FIRST MAYFLOWERS CAME.

Once upon a time everything in the woods was covered deep with snow, the berries, the juicy young bushes, and the roots. The animals had stowed themselves away for the winter to sleep; the bear in a deep cave, the chipmunk in a hollow log, and the wild mouse in a cozy hole beneath the roots of a tree. The wind sang a high, shrill song in the tops of the pine trees, and the doors of the wigwams were shut tight.

But the door of Son-of-a-Brave’s wigwam suddenly opened a little way and the Indian boy, himself, looked out. He had his bow and a newly tipped arrow in his hands.

While the snow and the ice had been piling up outside in the Indian village, Son-of-a-Brave had been very busy. He had been working beside the home fire making his new arrow head. First, he had gone to the wigwam of the village arrow maker to ask him for a good piece of stone. The arrow maker had been good enough to give Son-of-a-Brave a piece of beautiful white quartz. Then Son-of-a-Brave had set to work on it. He had shaped it with a big horn knife and chipped it with a hammer. He had polished it in a dish of sand until it shone like one of the icicles outside. Then he had fitted it to a strong arrow and wished that he had a chance to shoot. That was why Son-of-a-Brave stood at the door of the wigwam, looking out across the snow. Not even a deer had tracked it because the winter was so cold.

All at once Son-of-a-Brave saw something. An old Hare came out of a snow bank and limped down the path that led by the wigwam. In the summer the Hare was gray, the color of the trees among which he lived. But in the winter he turned white so as not to be seen by hunters when he went along through the snow. He did not care now whether any one saw him or not. He was a very old Hare, and the winter was too hard for him. He was lame and hungry and half frozen. He stopped right in front of Son-of-a-Brave and sat up on his haunches, his ears drooping.

“Don’t shoot me,” he was trying to say. “I am at your mercy, too starved to run away from you.”

Son-of-a-Brave slipped his newly tipped arrow in his bow and aimed at the old Hare. It would be very easy indeed to shoot him, for the Hare did not move. The boy thought what a warm pair of moccasin tops his skin would make. Then Son-of-a-Brave took his arrow out again, for another thought had come to him. He knew that he would be a coward to shoot a Hare that was too weak to run away.

The boy stooped down and picked up the old Hare. He wrapped him close up to his own warm body in his blanket. Then he went with him through the snow of the woods until they came to a place where a stream ran. There were young willow trees growing along the edge. Here he set down the Hare. He began to dig away the ice and frozen earth with his new arrow tip, until the roots of the trees and the soft bark could be seen. How the Hare did eat these! Son-of-a-Brave left him, still eating, and went home.

The Indian boy did not see the Hare again that winter. He knew that he had dug a large enough hole so that the Hare could find shelter and have enough food. His bow and arrow were hung on the wall, and Son-of-a-Brave sat by the fire with his mother and father until spring came.

One day a bird sang out in the forest. Then the streams began to sing. The moss made a carpet all over the ground outside of the wigwam. Son-of-a-Brave felt like running and shouting. He left off his blanket and went out into the woods to play.

He had scarcely gone a rod from the wigwam when he saw a large gray Hare following him. This was strange for hares usually ran away. Son-of-a-Brave waited, and the Hare came close to him. Then he saw, because it limped, that it was the old Hare that he had befriended in the winter. He was now fat and well fed, and dressed in his summer coat.

The Hare flopped his ears to Son-of-a-Brave and hopped a little way ahead, so the boy followed. The Hare went on, without stopping, until he came to the very spot beside the stream where Son-of-a-Brave had dug away the snow to give the Hare food.

Oh, what did the boy see there!

Blossoming out of the bare earth were beautiful flowers, as white outside as a hare’s ears in the winter time, and pink inside, like their lining. They had a sweet perfume, different from anything that had grown in the woods before. The grateful Hare stood beside them. He seemed to say that these new flowers were his gift to the boy who had helped him.