Chapter 1

Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team

_SLEEPY-TIME_

THE TALE OF SANDY CHIPMUNK

BY

ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY

ILLUSTRATED BY HARRY L. SMITH

1916

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I SANDY'S NAME

II SOMETHING IN THE SKY

III THE BROKEN EGG

IV BUILDING A HOUSE

V MRS. CHIPMUNK IS GLAD

VI SAMPLES OF WHEAT

VII UNCLE SAMMY'S STORE

VIII THE BASKET OF CORN

IX WORKING FOR MR. CROW

X MR. CROW SCOLDS SANDY

XI THE MAIL-BOX

XII SANDY GETS A LETTER

XIII A RIDE TO THE MILLER'S

XIV A LUCKY ACCIDENT

XV THE ROWDY OF THE WOODS

XVI ROWDY RUNS AWAY

XVII CORN-PLANTING TIME

XVIII SANDY LIKES MILK

XIX WHAT THE OLD COW DID

ILLUSTRATIONS

SANDY WAS SO STARTLED THAT HE DROPPED THE EGGS

MRS. CHIPMUNK WENT TO THE DOOR WITH SANDY

HE DROPPED THE GRAIN IN FRONT OF UNCLE SAMMY

UNCLE SAMMY SEARCHED HIS SHELVES CAREFULLY

"HERE'S A LETTER FOR ME!" SAID SANDY CHIPMUNK

FARMER GREEN'S CAT LEAPED OUT OF THE DOORWAY

THE TALE OF SANDY CHIPMUNK

I

SANDY'S NAME

In the first place, no doubt you will want to learn why he was known as _Sandy_. Many others, before you, have wondered how Sandy Chipmunk came by his name.

Whenever any one asked Sandy himself why he was so called, he always said that he was in too great a hurry to stop to explain. And it is a fact that of all the four-footed folk in Pleasant Valley--and on Blue Mountain as well--he was one of the busiest. He was a great worker. And when he played--as he sometimes did--he played just as hard as he worked.

In spite of his being so busy, there may have been another reason why he never would tell any one why he was named Sandy. Jimmy Rabbit was the first to suggest that perhaps Sandy Chipmunk didn't know.

Jimmy and some of his neighbors were sunning themselves in Farmer Green's pasture one day. And while they were idling away the afternoon Sandy Chipmunk scurried past on top of the stone wall, with his cheek-pouches full of nuts.

"There goes Sandy Chipmunk!" Jimmy Rabbit exclaimed. He called to Sandy. But Sandy did not stop. He made no answer, either, beyond a flick of his tail. You see, his mouth was so full that he couldn't say a word.

"I was going to ask him about his name," Jimmy Rabbit remarked. "I've almost made up my mind that he doesn't know any more about it than anybody else."

"Probably he doesn't," Fatty Coon agreed. "But it's easy to see why he's called Sandy. He likes to dig in the _sandy_ soil in this pasture."

"I don't agree with you," Billy Woodchuck said. "_I_ think he was named Sandy on account of his yellowish, reddish, brownish color."

Some of the others thought that Billy might have guessed the right answer. But Frisky Squirrel told them that that wasn't the reason at all.

"It's because he's _plucky_," he declared. "You know, _gritty_ is the same as _plucky_. And _sandy_ is the same as _gritty_. That's the reason," Frisky said. "It's plain as the nose on your face." He was looking straight at Tommy Fox as he said that.

Now, Tommy Fox had a very long nose. And he became angry at once. His face would have grown red, probably, if it hadn't been that color always.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" he snapped.

Old Mr. Crow, who sat in a tree nearby, nodded his head.

"You're all wrong," he told them. "The reason for calling that young Chipmunk boy Sandy is because his real name is Alexander. And everybody who knows anything at all knows that Sandy is just a short way of saying Alexander."

When they heard that, Fatty Coon and Billy Woodchuck and Frisky Squirrel looked foolish. People thought Mr. Crow was a wise old gentleman. And when he said a thing was so, that usually settled it.

"Here he comes again!" Mr. Crow said.

They all looked around. And sure enough! there was Sandy Chipmunk, hurrying along the top of the wall, to get more nuts to store away for the winter.

"Wait a moment!" Mr. Crow called to him. "I want to tell you something."

Sandy Chipmunk came to a halt and sat up on top of a stone, with his tail curled over his back.

"Talk fast, please!" he said. "I'm in a great hurry. Winter will be here before you know it. And I want to store away a great many nuts before somebody else gathers them all."

"I won't keep you long," Mr. Crow told him. "It's about your name--"

"I've no time to stop to explain," Sandy Chipmunk interrupted. "As I said, I'm very busy to-day." And he started to scamper along the wall again.

Once more Mr. Crow stopped him.

"You don't understand," he said. "I don't want to _ask_ you anything. I want to _tell_ you something."

"Oh!" said Sandy. "That's different. What is it?"

"It's quite a joke," Mr. Crow said. And he laughed loudly. "These young fellows here have been trying to tell one another why you're called Sandy. One of 'em says it's because you like to dig in the sandy soil; and another says it's because of your color; and still another claims it's because you're plucky. But I tell 'em it's because your real name is Alexander. And of course I'm right," said old Mr. Crow.

Sandy Chipmunk smiled. And then he started off again. And again Mr. Crow stopped him.

"Quite a joke on these youngsters--isn't it?" he inquired.

"You told me you didn't want to _ask_ me anything," Sandy Chipmunk reminded him. "But I will say this--though I am in a great hurry: So far as I know, you are all of you right. And that's a joke on you, Mr. Crow."

Then Sandy Chipmunk scampered off. And everybody laughed--except Mr. Crow.

"Alexander Chipmunk is a very pert young man," he grumbled.

II

SOMETHING IN THE SKY

When Sandy Chipmunk was just a little chap his mother began to teach him to take care of himself. She told him that among other enemies he must always watch out for foxes and minks and weasels--especially weasels.

"They are very dangerous," Mrs. Chipmunk said.

"Well, I'll always be safe if I climb a tree--won't I?" Sandy asked her.

"Goodness, no!" his mother replied. "There are many big birds--such as hawks and owls and eagles--that would catch you if they could.... But I'll tell you about _them_ some other time, Sandy."

Well, Sandy Chipmunk went out to play. But he didn't have what you would call a good time, because he couldn't help thinking of his mother's warning. He kept looking all around to see whether a weasel or a mink or a fox might be trying to steal up behind him. And he kept looking up to make sure that no big bird was ready to swoop down upon him.

But nothing of the sort happened--at least, not until the middle of the afternoon. Sandy had begun to believe that his mother was too timid. He did not think there was anything in Farmer Green's pasture to be afraid of. There were the cows--nothing seemed to worry _them_. They ate grass, or chewed their cuds, and never once looked behind them.

Sandy Chipmunk wandered further and further from home. For a long time he had not taken the trouble to look at the sky. But at last he glanced up. And to his great alarm he saw, hovering in the air far above him, an enormous creature. He had never seen its like before. It seemed all head and tail. Two great eyes stared at Sandy Chipmunk and sent a chill of fear over him. The monster's wide mouth grinned at him cruelly. And its long tail lashed back and forth as if its owner were very angry. Even as Sandy looked at the creature it gave a horrid scream.

Sandy Chipmunk did not wait for anything else. He turned and ran home. And a few of his friends who happened to see him remarked that he seemed to be in a greater hurry than ever.

Sandy felt better when he found himself safe in his mother's house. And he told Mrs. Chipmunk what he had seen.

"It may be an owl," he said, "because it has big, round eyes. But its tail was not like any owl's tail that I ever saw. It was like six catamounts' tails, all tied in knots."

"That's queer!" his mother remarked. "I never knew of a bird with a tail like that."

"Maybe it's a beast that has learned to fly," Sandy suggested.

"Beasts can't fly," Mrs. Chipmunk said.

But Sandy knew better than that.

"There's the Flying-Squirrel family," he reminded her.

"They can only fly from one tree to another," his mother told him. "I think I'll peep out and see for myself what this strange creature looks like."

He begged her not to. But Mrs. Chipmunk said she would be careful. And she went out and looked up at the sky.

Sandy was surprised when she came back laughing.

"What is it, Mother?" he asked. "Is it a bird or a beast?"

"Neither!" Mrs. Chipmunk answered with a smile.

"Then it must be a fish!" Sandy exclaimed.

"No! It's not a fish, either," his mother said. "It's nothing but a kite that Johnnie Green has made. He has painted eyes and a mouth on it. And I must say that if I didn't know a kite when I saw one it might have frightened me."

"But what makes it lash its tail that way?" Sandy asked her.

"The wind is blowing it," Mrs. Chipmunk explained.

"What made it scream?" Sandy inquired.

"It didn't," his mother replied.

Now, Sandy Chipmunk knew better than to contradict his mother. So all he said was this:

"Let's go outside and listen!"

Still smiling, Mrs. Chipmunk went to the door again with Sandy. And pretty soon they heard a long, far-off wail.

"There!" he cried. "That's it! Don't you hear it, Mother?"

"That--" Mrs. Chipmunk said--"that is nothing but the whistle of an engine, way down at the other end of Pleasant Valley."

III

THE BROKEN EGG

Nuts and grains were what Sandy Chipmunk ate more than anything else. But sometimes when he could not find enough of those, or when he wanted a change of food, he would eat almost any sort of berry, and apples and pears as well. Tomatoes, too, he liked once in a while. And he was very fond of sunflower seeds. He would not refuse a fat insect, either, if it flew his way. But these were not the only dainties that Sandy thought good. There was something else--something to be found in trees--for which Sandy sometimes hunted. And before he came home, after finding what he was looking for, he always wiped his mouth with great care.

If you had ever seen him wiping his mouth like that, you might have guessed that Sandy Chipmunk had been eating birds' eggs. And the reason he was so careful to remove all signs of his feast was because he did not want his mother to know what he had been doing.

Now you have heard the worst there is to know about Sandy Chipmunk.

To you it may seem odd that Mrs. Chipmunk did not think it wrong to rob birds' nests. And now you know the worst about _her_.

Sandy's mother liked eggs just as much as he did. But her son was such a little fellow that she was afraid he might get hurt climbing trees and looking for eggs. She told him that some day some bird might surprise him when he was enjoying a meal of her eggs, and peck out one or two of his eyes.

"Keep away from the nests!" Mrs. Chipmunk said.

But Sandy had had too many tastes of birds' eggs. He simply couldn't resist eating a few eggs now and then. Of course, when he did that he disobeyed his mother. And of course, if she had known it she would have punished him.

As the spring days sped past, the birds that lived in Farmer Green's pasture grew very angry with Sandy Chipmunk. You see, it was not long before they discovered who it was that was robbing their nests now and then.

"You'd better leave birds' eggs alone!" Mr. Crow warned him one day. "A number of my friends have told me what they're going to do to you, if they catch you near their nests."

But Sandy told Mr. Crow to keep his advice to himself.

"What about Farmer Green's corn?" Sandy asked the old gentleman. "I've heard that Farmer Green is looking for you with a gun."

Mr. Crow didn't even answer him. He just flew away. There were some things he didn't like to talk about.

That very afternoon Sandy Chipmunk spied a robin's nest in a tree not far from where he lived. And in less time than it takes to tell it, he had climbed the tree and run out on the limb where the nest rested.

Sandy Chipmunk smiled as he peered into the robin's nest. The four greenish-blue eggs that he saw there looked very good to him. And he smacked his lips--though his mother had often told him not to. He was just picking the eggs out of the nest when he heard a rustle in the leaves over his head. And Sandy Chipmunk looked up quickly.

It seemed to him, at first, that the air was full of monstrous birds. Actually, there were only three of them--Mr. and Mrs. Robin and a neighbor of theirs. But to Sandy they looked six times as big as they really were. _That_ was because they had caught him robbing the nest.

He was so startled that he dropped the eggs. They fell back into the nest--all except one, which broke upon the ground beneath the tree.

"Robber!" Mrs. Robin screamed.

"Thief!" Mr. Robin roared.

"Villain!" their neighbor cried.

It is a wonder they didn't fly straight at Sandy and knock him off the limb.

At first he was too frightened to say a word. But when he saw that he wasn't hurt, Sandy looked down at the broken egg and said:

"What a pity!" He meant it, too. For he thought it was a shame to waste a perfectly good egg like that, when he might have eaten it.

"You don't mean you're sorry, do you?" Mrs. Robin asked him.

"Certainly I am!" Sandy told her. "I was just counting your eggs. And when you startled me, I dropped that one. I thought it must be a hawk, you all made such a noise."

"You're sure you weren't going to eat our eggs?" Mr. Robin inquired.

"Eat them!" Sandy exclaimed. "Why, my mother has often told me not to eat birds' eggs."

When he heard that, Mr. Robin whispered something to his wife. And then he said to Sandy Chipmunk:

"You go home! And don't let me catch you around this tree again!"

Sandy was glad to escape so easily as that. And though he was sorry to have missed a good meal, there was one thing that made him almost happy: He didn't have to bother to wipe his mouth before he let his mother see him.

IV

BUILDING A HOUSE

There came a day when Sandy Chipmunk decided that he was old enough and big enough to make a house of his own. He was not the sort of person to think and think about a thing and put off the doing of it from one day to another. So the moment the idea of a house popped into his head Sandy Chipmunk began hunting for a good place to dig.

It was not long before he found a bit of ground that seemed to him the very best spot for a home that any one could want.

The place where he intended to make his front door was in the middle of a smooth plot among some beech trees. Farmer Green's cows had clipped the grass short all around. And Sandy knew that he could have a neat dooryard without being obliged to go to the trouble of cutting the grass himself. But what he liked most of all about the place was that as he stood there he could look all around in every direction. That was just what he wanted, because whenever he wished to leave his new house he would be able to peep out and see whether anybody was waiting to catch him.

So Sandy Chipmunk took off his little, short coat, folded it carefully, and laid it down upon the grass. Then he pulled off his necktie and unbuttoned his collar. Just because he was going to dig in the ground there was no reason why he should get his clothes dirty.

After that Sandy Chipmunk set to work. And you should have seen how he made the earth fly. When night came and he had to stop working there was a big heap of dirt beneath the beech trees, to show how busy Sandy had been. There was a big hole in the pasture, too. But it was nothing at all, compared with the hole Sandy had dug by the time he had finished his house.

Every morning Sandy Chipmunk came back to the grove of beech trees to work upon his new house. And it was not many days before his burrow was so deep that when winter came the ground about his chamber would not freeze. It was what Farmer Green would have called "below frost-line."

You must not think it was an easy matter for Sandy Chipmunk to dig a home. You must remember that somehow he had to bring the dirt out of his tunnel to the top of the ground. And he did that by _pushing it ahead of him with his nose_.

You may laugh when you hear that. But for Sandy Chipmunk it was no laughing matter. If _he_ had laughed, just as likely as not he would have found his mouth full of dirt. And you can understand that that wouldn't have been very pleasant.

As it was, his face was very dirty. But he never went back to his mother's house until he had washed it carefully, just as a cat washes her face.

Sometimes Sandy found stones in his way, down there beneath the pasture. And those he had to push up, too. Sometimes a stone was too big to crowd through the opening into the world outside. And then Sandy had to make the opening bigger. After he had done that, and pushed the stone out upon his dirt-pile, he would make his doorway smaller again by packing earth firmly into it.

You must not suppose that when Sandy brought the loose dirt and stones up through his doorway he left them there. Not at all! He pushed all the litter some distance away. And whenever he turned, to scamper down into his burrow again, he would kick behind him, as hard as he could, to scatter the dirt still further from his new house.

After Sandy had made himself a chamber where he could sleep, and where he could store enough food to last him throughout the winter, any one would naturally imagine that his house was finished. But Sandy Chipmunk was not yet satisfied with his new home. There was still something else that he wanted to do to it.

V

MRS. CHIPMUNK IS GLAD

After Sandy Chipmunk had dug his chamber underneath Farmer Green's pasture, he liked the _inside_ of his house quite well. But the looks of the _outside_ did not please him at all. He wanted a neat dooryard. And how could he have that, with that yawning hole through which he had pushed earth and stones, which still littered the grass a little distance away?

Luckily, Sandy knew exactly what to do. So he set to work to close the big work-hole. It was no easy task--as you can believe. But at last he managed to pack the hole full of dirt.

Then he had no door at all. And there he was in the dark, inside the hall that led to his chamber and storeroom. But that did not worry Sandy. You see, he knew just what he was about. And before long he had dug a new doorway--a small, neat, round hole, which you would probably have walked right past, without noticing it, it was so hard to see in the grass that grew thickly about it.

You might think that at last Sandy's house was finished. But he was not satisfied with it until he had made still another doorway, in the same fashion. He knew that it was safer to have an extra door through which he could slip out when some enemy was entering by the other one. Then Sandy Chipmunk's house was finished. And he was greatly pleased with it.

But his work was not yet done. He had to furnish his chamber. So he began to hunt about for dry leaves, to make him a bed. These he stuffed into his cheek-pouches and carried into his house. But he didn't march proudly up to one of his two doors. Oh, no! He reached it by careful leaps and bounds. And when he left home again he was particular to go in the same manner in which he had come.

It made no difference which of his doors Sandy used. He always came and went like that, because he didn't want to wear a path to either of his two doors or tramp down the grass around them. If he had been so careless as to let people notice where he lived he would have been almost sure to have enemies prowling about his house. And if a weasel had happened to see one of Sandy's neat doorways he would have pushed right in, in the hope of finding Sandy inside his house.

In that case the weasel would probably have pushed out again, with Sandy inside _him_. So you can understand that Sandy Chipmunk had the best of reasons for being careful.

After he had made a soft, warm bed for himself, Sandy set to work to gather nuts and grain, to store in his house and eat during the winter. He was particular to choose only well cured (or dried) food, for he knew that that was the only sort that would keep through the long winter, down in his underground storeroom.

He gathered other food, too, besides nuts and grain. Near Farmer Green's house he found some plump sunflower seeds, which he added to his store. Then there were wild-cherry pits, too, which the birds had dropped upon the ground. All these, and many other kinds of food, found their way into Sandy Chipmunk's home.

Much as he liked such things to eat--and especially sunflower seeds--he never ate a single nut or grain or seed while he gathered them for his winter's food. And when you stop to remember that he had to carry everything home in his _mouth_, you can see that Sandy Chipmunk had what is called self-control.

His mother had always told him that he couldn't get through a winter without that. And so, when Sandy brought her to see his new home, after it was all finished, and his bed was neatly made, and his storeroom full of food, Mrs. Chipmunk was delighted.

"I'm glad to see--" she said--"I'm glad to see that all my talking has done some good."

VI

SAMPLES OF WHEAT

There was so much said about Sandy Chipmunk's store of nuts and grain that a few of the forest-people began to wish they had some of Sandy's winter food for themselves. Uncle Sammy Coon, an old scamp who lived over near the swamp, was one of those who began to plan to get Sandy's hoard away from him.

It was the grain that Uncle Sammy wanted. If he had spent in honest work one-half the time he used in planning some trickery he would have been much better off. But he hated work more than anything else in the world.

Uncle Sammy Coon scarcely slept at all for several days, he was so busy thinking about Sandy's grain. And since he always passed his nights in wandering through the woods, he became almost ill.

The trouble was, Uncle Sammy was far too big to crawl inside Sandy's house. And he knew that the only way he could get at the grain was to persuade somebody to bring it outside for him.

At last he thought of a fine scheme. And as soon as it came into his head he hobbled over to Sandy Chipmunk's home. I say _hobbled_, because Uncle Sammy had a lame knee. He always claimed that he was injured in battle. But almost every one knew that he hurt his knee one time when Farmer Green caught him stealing a hen.

When he reached the pasture Uncle Sammy found Sandy Chipmunk just starting away to hunt for nuts.

"Good morning!" the old fellow said. He spoke very pleasantly, though he was so sleepy that he felt disagreeable enough. "I've come over to buy something from your store."

"My store!" Sandy Chipmunk exclaimed.

"Yes!" said Uncle Sammy Coon. "I've heard you have a store here with a heap of nuts and grain to sell."

Now, it had never occurred to Sandy Chipmunk to _sell_ any of the food he had gathered for the winter. But when Uncle Sammy put the idea in his head Sandy rather liked it.

"I have a fine stock, to be sure," he said. "The nuts are specially good. How many would you like to buy?"

But Uncle Sammy Coon told him he didn't want any nuts.

"I never eat them," he said. "It's grain that I want. And I'll buy as much as you care to sell.... Bring a sample of it up here," he urged. "I'd like to see if it's as good as people say."

So Sandy Chipmunk darted into his house. And soon he appeared again with his cheek-pouches crammed full of wheat kernels.

"There!" he cried, when he had dropped the grain in front of Uncle Sammy. "Just try a little of it! You'll agree with me that it's very fine."

Uncle Sammy not only tried a little. He gobbled up every single kernel.

"It seems to me to have a queer taste," he said. "Bring up some more!"