Chapter 1

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The Tale of Master Meadow Mouse

The TALE of MASTER MEADOW MOUSE

_By_ ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY

AUTHOR OF THE CUFFY BEAR BOOKS, SLEEPY TIME TALES, ETC.

ILLUSTRATED BY ELEANORE FAGAN

GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS--NEW YORK

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE I A FAT LITTLE FELLOW 1 II A PEEP AT THE WORLD 6 III THE KITTEN 11 IV A PLEASANT STRANGER 16 V MR. FROG INSISTS 21 VI MEETING MR. CROW 25 VII NOTHING BUT AIR 30 VIII MOSES MOUSE 35 IX MISS SNOOPER 40 X A HANDY SIGN 45 XI A CASTLE IN THE AIR 50 XII A MIDNIGHT FROLIC 55 XIII A MOONLIGHT RAID 60 XIV THE MASKED BANDIT 64 XV THE FLOOD 68 XVI ON THE RAFT 73 XVII A LUCKY ESCAPE 78 XVIII UNDER THE SNOW 83 XIX OWL FRIENDS 88 XX EATING A TREE 94 XXI A COLD DIP 100 XXII FISHING FOR MICE 105 XXIII MOVING DAY 110 XXIV MASTER OR MISTER? 115

The Tale of Master Meadow Mouse

A Fat Little Fellow

MASTER MEADOW MOUSE was pudgy. His legs were so short and his tail was so short and his ears were so short that he looked even fatter than he really was. And goodness knows he was plump enough--especially toward fall when the corn was ripe.

He lived in Farmer Green's meadow. And he never harmed anybody. For Master Meadow Mouse was fat and good-natured.

Friendly folk, such as Paddy Muskrat and Billy Woodchuck, liked him because he was good-natured. They always smiled pleasantly when they spoke of him. And unfriendly folk, such as Peter Mink and Tommy Fox, liked him because he was fat. When they mentioned him they always grinned horribly and licked their lips.

Now, it was a pity that in Pleasant Valley, where Farmer Green's meadow lay, there were many of the fat-loving kind. Not only Peter Mink and Tommy Fox, but Grumpy Weasel, Solomon Owl, Ferdinand Frog, Henry Hawk and even Miss Kitty Cat were usually on the watch for Master Meadow Mouse. Naturally, he soon learned to be on the lookout for them. And if he hadn't seen them first he would never have grown up to be _Mister_ Meadow Mouse.

In spite of all those enemies, Master Meadow Mouse managed to enjoy life in Farmer Green's meadow. Usually he found plenty of seeds to eat. He liked to swim in Broad Brook. And in winter, when the snow was deep, he made tunnels beneath it, and a nest, too, which was snug and warm under the thick white blanket that covered it.

The only time Master Meadow Mouse was ever known to lose his temper was when Farmer Green mowed the meadow. Under the high grass Master Meadow Mouse had been able to run about his well-beaten paths unseen by hawks. But with the grass cut and raked, leaving only naked stubble, he couldn't hide even from old Mr. Crow. It was no wonder that he agreed with Bobby Bobolink's wife. The Bobolink family were so upset by haying that they moved to Cedar Swamp at the very first clatter of the mowing machine. And when Master Meadow Mouse bade them good-by Mrs. Bobolink said to him, "What a shame that Farmer Green should break up a happy home like ours!" And Master Meadow Mouse remarked that it was very careless of Farmer Green. "He might have waited till the snow comes, at least, before cutting the grass," said Master Meadow Mouse.

"You'd better move to Cedar Swamp with us," Mrs. Bobolink suggested. "It's a fine place. I know, for we lived there last fall."

But Master Meadow Mouse didn't want to move.

"The grass will grow again," he explained. "Farmer Green can't stop the grass from growing, no matter how often he cuts it." And of course that was quite true.

After haying Master Meadow Mouse had to be more careful than ever. He knew that the hawks would scan the meadow many times a day in hopes of catching a glimpse of his reddish-brown back.

Luckily he succeeded in dodging them. And he dodged a good many other fierce rascals long after winter with its snow had descended on Pleasant Valley. Yet he never complained. He said that danger kept the days--and nights too--from being dull.

A Peep at the World

WHAT is the earliest thing you can remember? Master Meadow Mouse's earliest memory was of lying in a soft nest of dried grasses. Sometimes the nest was in inky darkness; and then it was night. Sometimes a shaft of light fell upon the nest through a round hole just above his head; and then it was daytime.

That round hole went upwards--straight upwards--for about a foot. And when Master Meadow Mouse looked through it he could see, on pleasant days, a patch of brilliant blue, which was a bit of sky.

One day a desire seized him to touch that round blue spot. So when his mother was away he crawled up through the hole. But when he reached the other end of it he found, to his great surprise, that the blue disk was ever so much bigger than he had thought it, and seemed further away than it had when he gazed at it through the round tunnel.

All this was very puzzling. And he stood in the meadow near the mouth of the tunnel, peering around and wondering what this, that and the other strange thing might be. For he saw many wonderful new sights.

If his mother hadn't come home and found him out of the nest there's no telling what would have happened to him.

"Get back!" she cried, pushing him towards the mouth of the tunnel--their doorway. "It's a mercy Henry Hawk hasn't spied you."

Master Meadow Mouse hung back. He didn't want to be hurried away from the new world that he had just discovered.

"I don't see Henry Hawk," he squeaked.

Mrs. Meadow Mouse gave a sort of grunt.

"Humph! You wouldn't know him if you saw him," she retorted. "Besides, he could see you long before you could see him, for his eyes are wonderfully keen." Then she gave her son a poke that sent him into the tunnel and bouncing down upon the soft nest at the bottom of it. "You stay there until I come home again!" she called. "Do you want to go where your two brothers and your three sisters went?"

Mrs. Meadow Mouse did not wait for her son's answer. She went off again and left him to ponder over her question.

Master Meadow Mouse decided to mind his mother. Although he didn't know what had become of his squirming companions, who had already begun to crowd the nest, somehow his mother's query carried something of a threat. He wondered if the mysterious Henry Hawk had had anything to do with the vanishing of the rest of the children.

Master Meadow Mouse proved to be a hearty eater. And since he no longer had to share with others the food that his mother brought home to him, he grew fast. It wasn't long before Mrs. Meadow Mouse took him above ground with her and let him play near home.

She taught him many things--how to find ripe seeds to eat, how to keep still as a mouse and not squeak when there was danger of any kind, and how to dodge into their tunnel when there was need.

Little by little Master Meadow Mouse wandered further from his own dooryard. And he began to think that his mother was too careful. There seemed to be no need of heeding all her warnings.

Then came the day when he met the kitten from the farmhouse.

The Kitten

MASTER MEADOW MOUSE had rambled about the meadow without paying much heed to safety. Although he still seemed to listen politely whenever his mother gave him a lecture on dangerous birds or beasts, half the time he didn't know what she was saying. He had decided that her fears were foolish. He was sure that nothing could harm him.

He was thinking that very thought one day when he came face to face suddenly with a huge, furry creature. At least the stranger seemed terribly big in the eyes of Master Meadow Mouse, though it was only a kitten belonging to Miss Kitty Cat, who lived at Farmer Green's house.

Like Master Meadow Mouse, the kitten was exploring the meadow. To her, as to him, it was a new world.

It would be hard to say which of the two was the more surprised.

"Oh!" Master Meadow Mouse squeaked right out loud. "I--I--I wish I'd stayed at home."

"Ho!" the kitten mewed. "I'm glad I came a-hunting."

The kitten sprang at Master Meadow Mouse. But when he didn't run she stopped in her tracks and stared at him. She had expected him to flee, as the mice at the farmhouse always did whenever a body met them.

"What's the matter with you?" the kitten asked him. "Don't you know that you ought to run when I jump at you?"

Master Meadow Mouse made no reply. How could he know that the mice at the farmhouse were ever so much sprier than he was and that they always trusted to their legs to get them out of harm's way? His family had always done differently. Unless there was a hole near-by, big enough for them but too small for a pursuer, they had ever stood their ground when attacked and fought while they could. Master Meadow Mouse knew no other way. It was something that had been handed down to him along with his short tail and his reddish-brown back.

Somehow, as she stood and gazed at Master Meadow Mouse the kitten thought he was growing bigger every moment. She began to feel uneasy about pouncing on him. It was one thing to clap a paw down on the back of somebody that was running away from her. And it was an entirely different matter to seize a person that didn't try to escape, but faced her almost boldly.

"Hunting isn't so much fun as I expected," she muttered. For a moment or two she was tempted to scamper back to the farmhouse. And then she thought how pleased her mother would be if she brought that fat fellow home in her mouth and laid him at her mother's feet--how pleased and how proud!

To help her courage the kitten began to lash her tail, jerking it from side to side as she had seen her mother move her own. And she crouched her chubby body lower in the grass.

Then the kitten jumped. And the moment she was within his reach Master Meadow Mouse gave her a smart nip on the nose with his sharp little teeth.

The kitten squalled. And she backed hastily away. "You'd better run!" she advised Master Meadow Mouse. "I shall not give you another chance!"

But he stood fast. And the kitten didn't give him another chance, either to run from her, or to bite her nose again. She fell into a sudden panic and bounded awkwardly away toward the farmhouse.

And then Master Meadow Mouse ran. He ran home as fast as he could go.

A Pleasant Stranger

THE whole Meadow Mouse family enjoyed swimming. They liked to live near water. That was why they made their home in the low meadow, where Broad Brook ran deeper and more quietly than in the hillside pasture. And Black Creek, too, was near-by. So the Meadow Mouse family never had to travel far when they wanted a cool dip.

Almost as soon as he was able to wander about the meadow alone Master Meadow Mouse began to swim. He didn't have to be taught, any more than he had to be taught how to walk. Swimming came to him as easily as eating. And his mother never worried about his being drowned. But when he went for his first swim in Black Creek Mrs. Meadow Mouse couldn't help feeling a bit anxious.

"Look out!" she warned her son. "Look out for the Pickerel tribe! They're the most dangerous fish in the creek."

"Yes!" said Master Meadow Mouse. "I know that. I've been told about them already."

"You have!" his mother exclaimed. "Who told you?"

"A greenish gentleman with a very wide smile and queer, bulging eyes," Master Meadow Mouse replied.

"That's Ferdinand Frog!" Mrs. Meadow Mouse cried. "He's as dangerous as any Pickerel that ever swam. Where did you meet him?"

"I stood on the bank of the creek one day and saw him among the lily pads," her son explained. "We had quite a long talk together.... I forgot to mention it to you," he added.

The news made Mrs. Meadow Mouse turn slightly pale. She shuddered although the day was warm; for she feared and detested Ferdinand Frog.

"Don't ever go near that slippery villain!" she warned her son. "If you ever see him when you are swimming in the creek, make for the shore at once."

Now, Master Meadow Mouse sometimes thought that he knew more than his mother, about certain matters. And he was inclined to take her advice lightly.

"Ferdinand Frog was very pleasant when I met him," he remarked. "He cracked jokes. And he laughed at them himself."

"Oh, he's pleasant enough," Mrs. Meadow Mouse agreed. "He'd grin and swallow you at the same time with that great mouth of his. That's what makes him so dangerous."

"Well, he's a fine swimmer, anyhow," her son declared.

"Another reason why you should avoid him!" his mother retorted.

"You ought to see him dive," said Master Meadow Mouse. "He promised to teach me to dive if I'd join him in the water."

"It's a mercy you didn't,". Mrs. Meadow Mouse gasped. "I'm glad you had sense enough to stay on the bank."

"Oh, I knew better than to take a swim in the creek that day," Master Meadow Mouse said. "The Pickerel family were nosing about among the pickerel weeds around the bend of the creek. I saw them myself. And Mr. Frog told me I ought to beware of them. He was very anxious--so he said--about me and the Pickerel. He said he didn't want them to catch me. He was very kind, I thought."

"Kind!" Mrs. Meadow Mouse spluttered. "He didn't want them to catch you because he hopes to catch you himself!"

Mr. Frog Insists

MASTER MEADOW MOUSE had come to Black Creek to enjoy his first swim in its dark, sluggish water. But when he arrived on the bank he changed his mind about swimming there that day. For whom should he see but Ferdinand Frog, sitting on a rock at the edge of the creek.

For once Master Meadow Mouse was ready to take his mother's advice. She had told him to beware of Ferdinand Frog and never, never, never to enter the water when that pleasant gentleman was in it.

Ferdinand Frog proved to be as agreeable as ever. When he caught sight of Master Meadow Mouse Mr. Frog bade him a hearty good morning in a deep voice which was vastly different from the tiny squeak of the small person on the bank.

"You've come for a swim--haven't you?" said Ferdinand Frog.

Master Meadow Mouse admitted that he _had_ intended to swim. But he explained that the water looked wetter than usual and he thought he'd wait till another day. "Besides," he added, "the sun has gone under a cloud and my suit wouldn't dry quickly enough."

"Come right in and have your swim!" Mr. Frog urged him. "You can change your clothes as soon as you get home."

"Oh, no--I can't," said Master Meadow Mouse.

"Why not?" Mr. Frog asked him.

"Because I haven't any more!"

"Now, that's a pity," Ferdinand Frog told him. "A handsome youngster like you ought to have a best suit to wear on special occasions."

Master Meadow Mouse looked interested.

"I'd like a nice new suit," he replied. "But where am I going to get it?"

"You've come to the right place!" Mr. Frog cried. "Maybe you didn't know that I'm a tailor. I'll make you a new suit myself!"

"That's very kind of you," said Master Meadow Mouse a bit doubtfully. "But I don't know how I could pay you."

The tailor laughed merrily.

"Don't you worry about that!" he exclaimed. "I'll get my pay somehow. And now you must come to my shop at once. I want to take your measure."

Mr. Meadow Mouse shook his head.

"No!" he told Mr. Frog. "I'm not going to your shop. I'm not going a single step nearer to you than I am now. I've taken _your_ measure already, Mr. Frog. I know your game. And you can't catch me that way."

For once Ferdinand Frog forgot to laugh. He was so surprised that his mouth fell wide open as he stared at Master Meadow Mouse.

He had an enormous mouth. Master Meadow Mouse shivered slightly as he looked down Mr. Frog's throat.

The tailor closed his mouth almost immediately. For a huge pickerel came nosing among the lily pads. And spying Mr. Frog, he at once darted towards him.

Mr. Frog swam off in great haste.

"That Pickerel person," said Mr. Meadow Mouse aloud, "means to take Mr. Frog's measure if he can."

Meeting Mr. Crow

DURING his first summer in Pleasant Valley Master Meadow Mouse had often noticed old Mr. Crow flying from the woods to the cornfield. Once in a while Mr. Crow dropped down into the meadow on some business or other. But Master Meadow Mouse did not fear him. The grass was high in the meadow, screening the goings and comings of Master Meadow Mouse from prying eyes.

But after haying time the meadow was a different place. There was no cover over Master Meadow Mouse's paths. He had to be watchful all the time, because Henry Hawk had an unpleasant habit of sailing high up in the sky and dropping down like lightning when he saw anybody like Master Meadow Mouse stirring.

Old Mr. Crow continued to journey daily between the cornfield and the woods. But Master Meadow Mouse paid little heed to him. He believed Mr. Crow to be harmless, so long as he didn't catch small folk in the cornfield. The old gentleman was very touchy about corn. He flew into a rage when anybody but himself ate even one kernel.

Though Master Meadow Mouse would have liked a taste of corn as much as anybody else, he was careful to keep away from the cornfield in the daytime. He didn't wish to bring down Mr. Crow's wrath upon his small head.

"Never let Mr. Crow catch you taking any corn!" Mrs. Meadow Mouse had told her son during one of the daily lessons that she gave him. "If you must have corn, wait until after sunset. Mr. Crow goes to bed early."

Now, it happened that just before haying time Mrs. Meadow Mouse had stopped giving her son lessons. She said that she had told him everything she knew. She had told him everything at least a hundred times. And she declared that if he hadn't learned what he needed to know, he never would.

Mrs. Meadow Mouse, however, had forgotten one thing--one very important thing. There was a little trick of old Mr. Crow's that she had never mentioned to her son.

So it wasn't his fault that he was caught unawares one day, soon after Farmer Green cut the grass in the meadow.

Master Meadow Mouse was tripping homewards one day, after a little excursion. He was traveling fast, for he felt, amidst the short stubble, as if all the world were watching him. And he kept a sharp eye cocked upwards at the sky, lest Henry Hawk should surprise him. Besides, he had heard the _boom_ of a bittern that morning. And the day before he had seen a butcher-bird skimming low over the meadow.

Those two, he knew, were every bit as dangerous as Henry Hawk.

You see, Master Meadow Mouse had learned to expect birds to descend upon him from the air. It had never occurred to him that a bird would lurk on the ground, in wait for him. So he had a sudden fright, almost at his doorway, when he ran plump upon a big black person standing behind a knoll.

It was old Mr. Crow. And Master Meadow Mouse thought he had an odd glitter in his snapping eyes.

"I--I haven't been taking any corn," Master Meadow Mouse stammered.

Nothing but Air

OLD Mr. Crow didn't say a single word when Master Meadow Mouse met him face to face in the meadow. But a wicked glitter in Mr. Crow's eyes warned Master Meadow Mouse that there was trouble ahead for him.

If the hole leading to his home hadn't been close at hand there's no telling what would have happened to him. Anyhow, just as Mr. Crow lunged at him, with a wild flapping of his broad wings, Master Meadow Mouse slipped to one side and whisked through his doorway.

Old Mr. Crow coughed hoarsely.

"What's your hurry?" he cried. "I've been waiting around here for you for a long while. Can't you spend a few moments of your valuable time with me!"

Now, it was true that the old gentleman had been lingering in the neighborhood. The corn wasn't quite ripe enough to suit him. So he had decided to go a-mousing that morning.

His way of hunting, however, was not like that of other birds. Mr. Crow chose to do his hunting afoot. He was too wise to waste any effort looking for mice when the grass was high. But after haying he had often gone a-mousing in years past. And he had found the sport to be quite worth while. Stalking about the close cropped meadow he had surprised many distant cousins of Master Meadow Mouse who never returned home to tell the story of their meetings with the black scamp. Maybe Mr. Crow was getting slow in his old age. He had never come so near to catching a Meadow Mouse before, only to be disappointed. It was no wonder that he felt peevish.

At first Master Meadow Mouse did not answer Mr. Crow when the old gentleman called down the tunnel that led to the nest beneath the sod. But soon Master Meadow Mouse remembered that Mr. Crow could get no more than his bill inside the hole. And then Master Meadow Mouse found his voice again.

"I don't want to go above ground," he said. "Can't you talk to me, where I am?"

"It's not easy to do that," Mr. Crow grumbled. "I have to speak too loud; and my voice is hoarse to-day."

"Stick your bill into my tunnel as far as it will go," Master Meadow Mouse suggested. "Then you won't have to shout. I could hear a whisper if you'd do as I say."

Old Mr. Crow thrust his bill down the hole.

"I don't like this," he croaked. "I can't see you."

"That's because you're shutting out all the light," Master Meadow Mouse explained.

"I doubt it," said Mr. Crow angrily. "I believe you've drawn a curtain across the other end of this tunnel. And I can't talk to anybody through a curtain. I _refuse_ to injure my voice trying to talk with anybody that won't give me a more friendly welcome when I call on him."

"Talk away!" Master Meadow Mouse urged his caller. "There's nothing between us to keep me from hearing you. Nothing but a foot of air!"

"Ah!" Mr. Crow cried. "I _knew_ you had something in that tunnel. Remove the air at once, sir, or I'll go away and leave you."

"If his bill wasn't so hard--if it was as soft as the Kitten's nose--I'd bite it," Master Meadow Mouse thought.

And while he was thinking, all at once a shaft of light trickled inside his house. Old Mr. Crow had gone grumbling on his way.

Moses Mouse

MASTER MEADOW MOUSE felt ill at ease. Now that the grass had been cut from the meadow he began to think he didn't care to live there any longer. After his adventure with old Mr. Crow, Master Meadow Mouse scarcely dared stray from his dooryard in the daytime. Anybody, almost, could see him as he crept through the stubble.

At night he ventured further from home. And once he went even as far as the farmyard.

To his surprise he found that the grass in Farmer Green's yard was longer than he had ever seen it. Earlier in the summer, when Master Meadow Mouse visited that spot, he had been afraid to cross the lawn because it was clipped so short. But now he could creep through the thick green carpet and nobody could see him, unless a waving grass blade happened to catch somebody's eye. Everybody at the farmhouse had been too busy with haying to spend any time running a lawn mower.