Part 3

“Something must be done,” said all the snakes and rabbits and field mice and ants who lived in Deacon Jones’ meadow lot.

They had a convention near the old stump in the middle of the meadow, and the garter snake was the president.

“Is this the person who always scares the children so?” asked the field mouse.

“No,” replied the Hoot Owl, who was the wisest of birds. “He is worse than that. He is the man who thinks that he knows how to play golf.”

“Hoot Owl,” whispered the Garter Snake, “you and Sly Fox must get rid of this terrible Bogey Man, who is all the time poking around our houses and making us uncomfortable.”

When the Bogey Man went to play golf in the pasture next day, he heard a hoarse voice away up in a tree.

“Hoot man, hoot!” said the voice. “It seems to me that you really do not know how to play golf.”

The Hoot Owl came down from the tree all dressed up in baggy, spotted clothes. He had a pipe in his beak and a big club in one claw.

“I’ll let you know,” replied the Bogey Man, “that I have had games with some of the very best players in the country, and besides that I can talk Scotch better than you can.”

“Ho, ho,” answered the Owl, “my people said hoot before there were any Scotchmen. I’ve come to show you how to play the real game of golf.

“Follow me,” screamed the Hoot Owl.

He led the Bogey Man to a field which was all rough. The rabbits and the field mice had been working all night making holes everywhere they could.

“Why, this is no place to play golf,” said the Bogey Man as he took a big drink of oatmeal water.

“It’s fine,” said the Hoot Owl, “Isn’t it, Sly Fox?”

Sly Fox came up with a whole bagful of sticks with twisted roots on the end of them. The Bogey Man had always played with just one straight stick. Sly Fox had gone into the woods, where he pulled up saplings and kept those which had the funniest and the ugliest roots.

“Now, then,” said the Hoot Owl, “I guess that we are all ready. Sly Fox, you can carry the clubs.”

The Hoot Owl and Sly Fox made the Bogey Man use all of the queer kinds of sticks which they had brought. He had to shove the balls into holes all over the field, and then he had to spoon them out again with two or three kinds of clubs, and then shove them over to another hole. As fast as he got through with one club Sly Fox would take it away from him and give him another which was more twisted and curved than the one before.

“Isn’t he learning fast?” said the Hoot Owl to Sly Fox with a wink.

“O, fine,” answered Sly Fox. “Golf players are born and not made.”

Although the Bogey Man was very tired, he tried to look happy, and said he never had so much fun in all his life. He stumbled into pits and nearly sprained his ankle. He knocked the balls into ponds and over big bumps in the meadows. Nearly every time he struck a ball it would go out of sight. Sly Fox tried to find it, but, somehow, he never could. Then the Bogey Man had to pay Sly Fox twenty-five cents for a new ball. Before the day was over Sly Fox had sold to the Bogey Man the same ball 999 times. The Bogey Man’s hands were all blistered, and his feet were wet, and his fine clothes were all over mud. He sat down on a log and began to cry.

“I’m tired of running after those balls,” he said, “and I have, boo-hoo boo-hoo—I have spent all my money buying new ones.”

“That is too bad,” sighed Sly Fox. “I have an idea.”

So Sly Fox drove a tack into one of the balls, twisted a long piece of string around it and then drove the tack way down to the head.

“This string,” explained Hoot Owl, “is just as long as the field. You hit the ball with the club and the ball can’t get lost because it has a string tied to it.”

“That is very fine,” said the Bogey Man, wiping away his tears and taking a big drink of oatmeal water. “I wish you had thought about that before I bought those 999 balls.”

So they put the ball on the ground and gave the Bogey Man the ugliest and biggest club that they could find.

“Hit it hard, Bogey Man,” said Sly Fox, and then he stepped behind a tree.

“Yes, don’t be easy now,” screeched the Hoot Owl, and he flew up into the branches of the tree and put on his glasses.

The Bogey Man swung the club and struck the ball as hard as ever he could. The round thing went through the air so fast that you could hear it sing and when it got to the end of the field, it suddenly stopped. One end of the string was fastened to a sapling. The string kept stretching and stretching, until there was no more stretch in it and the ball fastened to the end of it came bounding back and struck the Bogey Man so hard in the nose that it knocked him right over. The poor Bogey Man dropped his club, and when he got on his feet again, he went away as fast as he could. Since that he has never been seen playing golf with anybody and the animals and snakes in Deacon Jones’ wood are happy. Some men from the city who saw Sly Fox and Hoot Owl playing thought it was really a good game and they went back and taught other people how to play it. Only instead of Sly Fox to find the balls they hired good little boys called caddies who always find the balls, no matter how far they go, and they never think of doing anything so dishonest as to charge twenty-five cents for the same ball over and over again.

HOW UGLY DOG STOPPED THE CAR

X

HOW UGLY DOG STOPPED THE CAR

Ugly Dog lived out in a place called New Jersey, where the mosquitoes are always so busy that the people never have time to think about getting old. Near the house of his master there were two rails, on which the Running Houses kept going up and down as fast as they could. Every time a Running House went past Ugly Dog went out and barked, for the very sight of it made him angry. Before the Running Houses came, his master went to the station in a buggy, and Ugly Dog always went along and trotted back with the coachman. Now his master went alone, and Ugly Dog had to stay at home.

He came out one morning just in time to see his master get on the back steps of a Running House and wave good-by to the children. Ugly Dog was never so angry in all his life. He ran as hard as he could, and tried to jump on the Running House so that he could go to the station with his master. Then he heard two bells ring, and with a clicking and banging, Running House was sliding away so fast that Ugly Dog could not keep up with it. He ran until he nearly dropped on the ground, and he barked until he was hoarse.

He crawled into the bushes at the side of the road and laid down to rest. He was all covered with dust, and his eyes were red and his tongue was hanging out.

“Well,” said Sly Fox, who had just come up through the bushes, “You do not seem to be very happy this morning. What is the matter?”

“I can’t go to the station any more,” growled Ugly Dog, “because I can’t run fast enough to keep up with those miserable little houses that go sliding away as soon as my master gets on the back steps.”

“It seems to me,” said Sly Fox, “that for a dog that has such a fine face you do not know very much. I understand why it is that the Running Houses do not stop—you are not polite enough to the man at the front door.”

“What am I to do?” asked Ugly Dog.

“O, that is very simple,” answered Sly Fox. “You must be very particular about how you act. Nobody ever succeeds unless he is polite and always says please. You know that I am very wise, and if you only listen to me, you may never have any more trouble.”

“I am all ears,” said Ugly Dog, folding his arms and looking as humble as Jack Rabbit.

“Well, in the first place,” said Sly Fox, “the Running Houses only stop when you wave your paw to the man at the front door. Now, if I were you I would stand right in front of the next one as it comes along and then I would make a low bow and wave my paw. That is the way your master gets them to stop.”

“I’ll do that,” said Ugly Dog, “just as soon as I get rested. But how is it that you are all out of breath, too?”

“Well,” answered the Sly Fox, coughing in a funny sort of a way and shuffling his feet around, “you know that I am a doctor, and I was called in a hurry to see two little chickens which had the croup in their crops.”

“Is that so?” asked Ugly Dog, “and are they better now?”

“Those dear, little chickens,” answered Sly Fox, as he stroked his white mustache, “will never be bothered by having anything in their crops again.”

Just then there was a whirring sound way up the road and Sly Fox jumped up.

“My friend,” he said, “I think that another Running House is coming. If I were you I would hurry up and get right in front of it.”

Ugly Dog got up on his feet and shook himself and wagged his tail and smoothed out his hair.

“How do I look?” he asked.

“Fine,” answered Sly Fox. “If I were the man standing on the front porch of any Running House I would stop in a minute. Now you do just as I tell you, and I am sure that you will never have any more trouble.”

Ugly Dog went out in front of Running House, wagging his tail and standing up on his hind legs and making bows all the time. He waved one of his paws as Running House came hurrying down the rail. The man at the front door began to ring the bell as fast as he could and to yell at Ugly Dog.

“He sees you!” cried Sly Fox from behind the bushes.

Then the man turned a brass handle.

Running House began to go slower, but it did not stop. The thing in front which looked like a scraper struck Ugly Dog and sent him way up in the air, and he fell down at the side of the road all in a heap. When he got on his feet again, he saw the Running House going down the road as fast as it could, and on the back step was Sly Fox, smoking a pipe and looking very wise.

Just then there was a crackling of branches and a yelping and a stamping. Through the bushes came men riding horses and a pack of angry hounds.

“You are a rascal,” yelped the hounds. “You, Ugly Dog, stopped the Running House so that Sly Fox could get away from us!”

“I did no such thing,” whined Ugly Dog. “That mean Fox played a trick on me.”

The hounds would not listen to him, but they chased him to his kennel and gave him a good whipping. Ugly Dog did not get over the hurting he got that day until the next month.

SLY FOX GETS HIS PICTURE TAKEN

XI

SLY FOX GETS HIS PICTURE TAKEN

Mole had a photograph gallery in Deacon Jones’ woods. One of the rooms was all dark, because it was under the ground, and here he spent nearly all his time making pictures come on the glass plates. He was there so much that after a while he could hardly see at all, so he had to get Ugly Dog to help him. Ugly Dog was a good barker, and he stood out in front of the photograph gallery all day, saying: “Step right up, birds and animals and get your very fine pictures taken.”

Ugly Dog made so much noise, and talked so much about the pictures, that nearly all the birds and animals ordered a dozen photographs apiece. Silly Goose, Gray Mouse and Kerchug, the leap-frog, were so pleased that each of them ordered two dozen.

Ugly Dog was out in front of the photograph gallery, barking one afternoon when he saw Sly Fox in the bushes coming toward him. He and Sly Fox were not friends, and he began to growl and snarl.

“Stop your noise,” called out the Mole, coming out of the dark room. “You are shaking all the pictures down.”

“I can’t help it,” cried Ugly Dog, “Sly Fox made me stand in front of the house which was running on two rails and the front step knocked me over and nearly killed me.”

“Now you do what I tell you,” said Mole, “and you can pay Sly Fox for that trick.”

So Mole and Ugly Dog went down into the dark room, and Mole told Ugly Dog just what to do. Ugly Dog went back and stood in front of the photograph gallery, and when Sly Fox came up he made a low bow.

“Good morning, Sly Fox. Ha! Ha!” he said. “That was such a very good joke. After the running house struck me and I found myself lying in the road, I got up and laughed, and laughed so hard that for weeks afterward I was sore all over. You are such a very funny animal, and you look just as funny as you are. Whenever I see that great, big, long, thin neck of yours I can hardly help laughing.”

Sly Fox was very vain. He put his paw up to his neck and felt it all over, and then said: “You are a very foolish animal, Ugly Dog. Anybody can see that my neck is very short and very graceful.”

“I don’t wonder that you do not care to have your picture taken,” said Ugly Dog. “Silly Goose passed by here only yesterday and ordered two dozen. I don’t suppose that my partner, Mole, would care to risk his camera taking a picture of one so ugly, anyway. It’s too bad that your tail is so short and stubby.”

Now, Sly Fox was very proud of his long and bushy tail, and when he heard what Ugly Dog said, he became red in the face.

“It’s just as well,” said Ugly Dog, “that you do not take a very good picture, for I hear that you have so little money now that you could not afford to do so, anyway.”

Then Sly Fox shook his paw in Ugly Dog’s face.

“Take my picture right away,” he said, “and I’ll let you know that I have money to pay for it. I shall wait here until it is done.”

So Ugly Dog called down to his friend Mole, and Mole came up with his camera.

“Sit right down on this stool,” said Ugly Dog.

Sly Fox sat down, and behind him Ugly Dog put a funny kind of tongs passing to a long rod. He put the ends of the tongs under Sly Fox’s ears and screwed them up real tight.

“That’s to keep your head still,” said Mole.

“Don’t you think that is a little bit too tight?” asked Sly Fox, squirming around, for he was held so fast that he had shooting pains in his head.

“Look pleasant, please,” grunted Mole, from under the cloth which was over the camera.

“You must stay here for fifteen minutes,” added Ugly Dog, very quietly.

So Sly Fox stayed sitting there with a bouquet in his right paw and trying to look pleasant, although the tongs about his ears were so tight that his eyes stuck out, and he could hardly keep his tongue from hanging down. Mole took the camera back into the dark room, and, after awhile, he came out with a photograph all finished.

“I’ll put it up right in front of you, Sly Fox,” said Ugly Dog, “so that you can take a good look at it.”

As Sly Fox looked toward the photograph Ugly Dog slipped up behind and gave the tongs another turn and then jumped back into the bushes. When Sly Fox saw the picture he raised his paws and said, “O, my! O, my! Take it away.” It was such an awful picture that it would scare anybody to look at it. Mole had placed pictures of different animals together and had made one picture. There was a creature with a long neck like Silly Goose’s, and a little stubby tail like Ugly Dog’s, and a body like big Elephant’s. It had two feet which looked like the goose’s, and two other feet which looked like elephant’s feet.

“I don’t look like that?” cried Sly Fox.

“I just made your picture,” said Mole in a sleepy voice, “and nobody can ever say that I ever took the wrong animal. Isn’t your name Sly Fox?”

“O, yes,” replied Sly Fox, “but I am a very handsome animal.”

“I can’t see that you are,” replied the Mole. “That is your picture, and now you’ll have to pay for it.”

So Ugly Dog and Mole took pay for a dozen pictures and put the photograph up just in front of Sly Fox, where he could see it and could not reach it.

“Take it away. Take it away,” cried Sly Fox.

Ugly Dog and Mole went away to dinner and left Sly Fox sitting in the chair snarling and crying. He stayed there for two hours, until his friend Patrick O’Possum came along and unscrewed the tongs and let him go. Ever since that Sly Fox has not been nearly so proud of himself, and he has never played another trick on Ugly Dog.

AT LITTLE MONKEY’S SWIMMING SCHOOL

XII

AT LITTLE MONKEY’S SWIMMING SCHOOL

Little Monkey lost his tail, and the other monkeys made so much fun of him that he could not live with them any more. He went away by himself and fed on berries. He was sitting on the bank of the river one day, when the earth gave way, and he fell in the water. He swam out again, and as he did, he had an idea.

“I’ll start a swimming school,” said he. “I’ll teach all the other animals to swim so that their lives will be saved if they fall into the water.”

So Little Monkey built houses on the shore of the river and put up a sign which read:

Captain L. Monkey, Swimming Skule. Bathing Suits to Hire.

He had 100 bathing suits in sizes to fit any animal from a mouse to an elephant. He hired the tailor bird to make new suits as fast as the old ones wore out. Ben Crocodile was always swimming around to save the lives of the animals who swam out too far. Little Monkey put a raft away out in the stream, where the animals could rest after they had swum as long as they should.

When all the animals and all the birds heard that Little Monkey had a swimming school they said: “How very fashionable!”

Some of them thought they could swim, but then it became the style for all animals and birds to swim like little monkeys without tails. Every afternoon, the beach in front of Little Monkey’s bathing houses was filled by the jungle folk. All those, who went in, hired bathing suits, and the tailor bird was kept busy all day making new suits and mending the old ones. Little Monkey wore a fine, gray suit, and he swam up and down to teach the animals how to swim like a little monkey without a tail.

Tiger and Zebra were great friends, and one afternoon they went to Little Monkey’s swimming school.

“We want nice, new suits,” said Tiger.

Tailor Bird brought out two suits with yellow and black stripes. Tiger and Zebra then had white hair, for this was many years ago.

“They’re fine,” said Tailor Bird. “They fit like the bark on the tree, and the colors are so new that they would be ashamed to run.”

“What pretty suits,” Zebra and Tiger said at once.

They put on the bathing suits and sat down on the sand.

“Why don’t you come in?” asked Heron, who had stayed in the water until he was blue.

“We want everybody to see our fine, new suits,” answered Zebra.

“Come on!” cried Little Monkey. “Bathing suits were made to get wet.”

So Tiger and Zebra stepped into the water and followed Little Monkey.

“Tiger,” cried Little Monkey, turning around, “you must keep your mouth tightly shut.”

(Every time Tiger got near Little Monkey his mouth flew open.) This made Little Monkey very nervous, for Tiger had big, sharp teeth. When Tiger was not scaring Little Monkey, Zebra was kicking the water over the poor, little animal, which was doing his best to teach his pupils how to swim. The other animals and birds got out of the water and sat upon the beach and laughed and laughed at the fun which Tiger and Zebra were having with Little Monkey.

Tiger and Zebra made believe that they were very awkward. They were all the time catching Little Monkey around the neck until his head was under water. Then when he came up again with his ears and mouth all streaming, they would say: “Noble Little Monkey, you have just saved our lives.” They even got a little fish to swim under Little Monkey and bite his toes. Little Monkey pretended not to be angry. All the time, though, he was vexed, and he made up his mind that he would pay back Tiger and Zebra for the mean way in which they were treating him. He was all tired out, yet he kept swimming, for he saw that something was happening which would give him a fine revenge.

“Tiger,” he said, “if you would keep your mouth from being open so much, and Zebra, if you would not splash with your feet, you both would become very fine swimmers. Don’t bother to take off your bathing suits. Just sit in the sun and when I teach Antelope how to dive I’ll give you another lesson.”

So Tiger and Zebra sat in the sun and told the other animals about the great fun which they had had with Little Monkey.

Then they found somebody else to make fun for them. Leopard, who was all spotted, came down to the beach.

“Ho, ho,” laughed Tiger, “did you ever see an animal in a polka dot skin?”

“He, he, isn’t he gaily dressed,” neighed the Zebra, as he grinned and looked around at the other animals.

“It is not every animal,” answered the Leopard, as he came out dressed up in his white bathing suit, “who has the good fortune to be born with a beautiful white skin. Many is the time I have tried to change these polka dots for a plain checked suit, but somehow I could never do it. I may be funny but I never looked so queer as do two very mean animals who are lying on this beach all dressed up in ugly, striped bathing suits.”

Then Zebra and Tiger became angry. They got up and took off their bathing suits and threw them at tailor bird. Then all the birds and the animals laughed so hard that they had to put their hands to their sides. Hyena laughed until he rolled over and over on the beach.

“Hyena,” roared Tiger, “you are always laughing at nothing. What is the matter with you?”

Hyena pointed with his paw. Tiger and Zebra looked at themselves and found that their skins were all striped. The color had come out of the new bathing suits and the sun had dried it into their hair. Tiger and Zebra felt so ashamed that they ran away. Ever since that day the beasts in the jungle have always said Striped Tiger and Striped Zebra, and it was not until the Spotted Leopard told me this story, that I knew that those two animals were once as white as the Polar Bear.

THE END