Part 8

"Ha! Ha!" laughed the boy, as he picked up another stone. "I'm a good shot, I am!"

"I should call that rather a _bad_ shot--for my hat," remarked Uncle Wiggily, as he picked up his silk hat and hopped toward the bushes. "Come on, Arabella and Charlie!" called the bunny gentleman. "This boy is acting just as you said he did. I must think up some way of teaching him a lesson!"

The little hen girl and rooster boy scooted under the bushes, and only just in time, for the boy threw many more stones, and one struck Charlie on the comb. Not the comb that he used to make his feathers smooth, but the red comb on his head--one of his ornaments; his tail feathers being others.

"Hi, fellows! Come on chase the funny chickens and the dressed-up rabbit!" cried the boy. But though some of his chums ran up, as he called, with sticks and stones, Uncle Wiggily, with Charlie and Arabella, managed to hide away from the thoughtless lads. For they were thoughtless. They didn't think that stones hurt animals.

"Yes, I certainly must teach that boy a lesson," said Uncle Wiggily.

"I--I wish he'd catch the chicken-pox!" crowed Charlie. "Or maybe the roosterpox! Then he'd have to stay in and couldn't chase us!"

"I wouldn't care if he had the mumps and toothache at the same time!" cackled Arabella.

For several days Uncle Wiggily watched for a chance to teach the thoughtless boy a lesson, and at last it came. The bunny gentleman was out hopping in the woods one morning when he met Charlie and Arabella fluttering along the forest path.

"Oh, Uncle Wiggily!" said Arabella in a cackling whisper. "That boy is asleep now, on a bed of moss under a tree. He's sleeping hard, too, for Charlie and I went close to him and he didn't awaken. Maybe you can do something to him now."

"Maybe I can," said Uncle Wiggily. "I'll go see!"

He hopped through the woods with the chicken children, and soon came to where the boy was asleep under a tree. It was a pine tree, with sticky gum oozing from the trunk and branches. And as soon as the bunny gentleman saw this gum he whispered:

"I have an idea! I'll teach this boy a lesson."

"How?" asked Charlie.

"I'll make him think he has the chicken-pox, or something worse," answered the bunny, with a silent laugh.

"Goodie!" cackled Arabella.

"Ha! Ha!" crowed Charlie.

"Quiet now, chicken children," whispered Uncle Wiggily. "Each of you pull me out a few loose feathers."

Charlie and Arabella did this. Then the bunny uncle took some of the soft gum from the pine tree, and put spots of it on the face and hands of the sleeping boy. Though he stirred a little, the boy did not awaken.

When the boy was well spotted with the sticky gum, Uncle Wiggily took the chicken feathers that Charlie and Arabella had plucked, and fastened these feathers on the boy's face and hands in the gum.

"Oh, how funny he looks!" softly cackled Arabella.

"Hush!" cautioned Uncle Wiggily, putting his paw on his pink, twinkling nose. "Let him sleep!"

Drawing back into the bushes, Uncle Wiggily, Charlie and Arabella waited for the boy to awaken, which he did pretty soon. He turned over, sat up and stretched. Then he looked at his hands, and saw chicken feathers stuck on them.

"Oh! Oh!" cried the boy. "What has happened to me?"

He jumped to his feet and caught sight of himself in a spring of water that was like a looking glass.

"Oh! Oh!" cried the boy again. "This is terrible! Oh, my face!"

Home he ran through the woods, while Charlie and Arabella laughed to see him go.

"Oh, Mother! Mother! Look at me!" cried the boy. "I'm all feathers! I must have the chicken-pox!"

"Goodness me, sakes alive and a basket of eggs!" exclaimed the boy's mother. "You must have gone to sleep in a hen's nest! But you haven't the chicken-pox! The chicken-pox is spots like the measles, but you are covered with _feathers_!"

"But how did I get this way?" asked the boy, as he pulled off some of the feathers. "I wasn't like it when I went to sleep in the woods."

"Maybe a fairy did it," spoke his little sister, who believed in them.

"Pooh! There aren't any fairies!" sneered the boy. "I guess it was that hen and rooster I stoned."

"Did you do that?" asked his mother. "Did you?"

"A--a little!" stammered the boy.

"Well, it isn't any wonder you're this way, then," Mother said. "And, for all I know, you may get the real chicken-pox!"

And, as true as I'm telling you that boy did! But he was not made very ill, for some reason or other. Perhaps because he had to be washed so clean, to get off the sticky pine gum and the feathers, the chicken-pox didn't go in very deeply.

At any rate, when the boy was all well again, he threw no more stones at Charlie or Arabella.

"You cured him, Uncle Wiggily!" crowed the rooster boy.

And I really think the bunny did. So if toy balloon doesn't take the spout off the teakettle to blow beans through at the egg beater, I'll tell you next about Uncle Wiggily's Hallowe'en.

STORY XX

UNCLE WIGGILY'S HALLOWE'EN

Hopping along under the bushes one day, near the edge of the forest nearest to where lived the real boys and girls, Uncle Wiggily Longears, the bunny rabbit gentleman, heard two boys talking together.

"We'll put a tick-tack on her window," said the First Boy.

"And she'll be scared stiff!" said the Second Boy. "Oh, what fun we'll have this Hallowe'en!"

"Hum!" thought the bunny rabbit gentleman to himself, after hearing this. "It may be fun for _you_, but how about whoever it is you're going to scare stiff? I only hope it isn't my nice muskrat lady housekeeper, Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy!"

Uncle Wiggily twinkled his pink nose, and listened with both ears.

"Yes," went on the First Boy, "we'll have a lot of fun this Hallowe'en with tick-tacks and the like of that! And we'll put on false faces so the Little Old Lady of Mulberry Lane won't know us!"

"Oh ho! So that's the one they're going to play tricks on; is it?" thought Uncle Wiggily to himself. "The Little Old Lady of Mulberry Lane! I know her--poor creature; she lives all alone, and she may have a cupboard, like Old Mother Hubbard, but she hasn't a dog or a bone. I suppose," thought Uncle Wiggily, "that Jackie or Peetie Bow Wow would stay with her, if she wanted them. I must see about it."

"But, first of all, I must plan some way so these mischievous boys won't put a tick-tack on the window of the Little Old Lady of Mulberry Lane. I know what tick-tacks are!"

And well Uncle Wiggily knew, for sometimes the boys and girls of Woodland, near the Orange Ice Mountains, where the bunny had built his hollow stump bungalow, put one of the scary things on his window. That is, they were scary if you didn't know what they were, but Uncle Wiggily did.

Oftentimes Sammie Littletail, the rabbit, or Johnnie and Billie Bushytail, the squirrels, would take some string, a pin and an old nail, or little stone, and make a tick-tack. They fastened a short piece of string to the pin, and on the other end of the string they tied a dangling stone. When it grew dark the animal chaps would sneak up to Uncle Wiggily's window, and stick the pin in the wooden sash so the stone, or nail, hung dangling down against the glass. Then they would tie the long string, or thread, about half way down on the short cord and hide off in the bushes, with one end of the long string in their paws.

From their hiding place the animal boys would pull the long string. The pebble, or stone, would rattle against Uncle Wiggily's window, making a sound like:

"Tick! Tack!"

That's how it got its name, you see.

"So they are going to play tick-tack on the Little Old Lady of Mulberry Lane; are they?" said Uncle Wiggily to himself, as the two boys walked away. "Well, I must try to stop them!"

Mulberry Lane was a street near the forest where the bunny gentleman lived in his hollow stump bungalow, and the Little Old Lady was the only one whose house was built there. The bunny liked the Little Old Lady, for in winter she scattered crumbs for the birds.

Uncle Wiggily hopped home to his hollow stump, and from the attic he took down one of his old, tall silk hats.

"What in the world are you doing, Uncle Wiggily?" asked Nurse Jane. "Do you think it is April Fool, and are you going to wear an old hat so the animal boys won't play tricks on you?"

"Well, not exactly," the bunny answered. "I'll tell you later, Miss Fuzzy Wuzzy--if it works."

"Hum!" said the muskrat lady housekeeper, as she saw Mr. Longears put in his pocket some pieces of white paper and a pot of paste. "I do believe he's going to fly a kite--and on Hallowe'en of all nights!"

For it quickly became Hallowe'en night. As soon as the dusky shadows of evening began to fall, strange figures flitted to and fro, not only in the woods of the animal folk, but on the other side, in the village where the real boys and girls lived.

Real boys, with the heads of wolves, the faces of clowns and some as black as the charcoal-man skipped here and there, ringing doorbells, outlining in chalk on the steps something that looked like an envelope, or else they tapped on windows with long sticks so that when the windows were opened no one could be seen.

Uncle Wiggily, hopping off through the darkness toward the edge of the forest, carried with him one of Nurse Jane's old brooms, an old, tall silk hat and a coat the bunny gentleman had, long ago, tried to throw in the rag bag. Only Miss Fuzzy Wuzzy wouldn't let him.

"I'll mend it, sew on some new buttons and it will be as good as ever," she said. Well, Uncle Wiggily found this coat and took it with him.

"I'll stop those boys from putting a tick-tack on the window of the Little Old Lady of Mulberry Lane," thought the bunny as he hopped along. "I'll tick-tack them!"

He kept in the shadows of the trees so none of the animal children saw him. But the bunny gentleman saw them. He saw Neddie Stubtail, the boy bear, dressed up like the Pipsisewah. And Billie Wagtail, the goat, had on a false face just like the skinny Skeezicks.

Here and there animal girls were hurrying to Hallowe'en parties. Lulu and Alice Wibblewobble, the ducks, were giving one, and Baby Bunty, the little rabbit girl, had been invited to "bob" for carrots at the house of Buddy and Brighteyes, the guinea pigs.

Jackie and Peetie Bow Wow, who were dressed in clown suits, hurrying to have fun with Johnnie and Billie Bushytail, the squirrels, caught sight of Uncle Wiggily.

"Come and have some Hallowe'en fun with us!" barked Jackie.

"I will in a little while," promised the bunny.

On and on he hopped, and soon he came to the house of the Little Old Lady of Mulberry Lane. The bunny could look in her window and see her reading a book by the light of a candle.

"I'll hide under her window," thought the bunny, "and when those boys come with the tick-tack--well, we'll see what happens!"

Uncle Wiggily did not have long to wait. Pretty soon he heard a rustling in the bushes and some whisperings.

"Here they come!" thought Mr. Longears. He put the extra tall silk hat on top of the broom, and fastened his old coat to the handle, on a cross-stick he had nailed there. Then, taking the pieces of white paper from his pocket, Uncle Wiggily pasted them on the shiny part of the old silk hat in the shape of a grinning Jack o' Lantern face. Then the bunny crouched down behind the bushes with the scarecrow he had made.

"You sneak up and fasten on the tick-tack," whispered one boy, "and I'll pull the string so it will rattle and scare the Old Lady stiff!"

"I want to pull the string, too!" said the other boy.

"Yes, you can, after you fasten on the tick-tack."

"Well, give it here then," said the second boy.

They were so close to the bush, behind which Uncle Wiggily was hidden, that the bunny could have reached out and touched them with his paw if he had wished.

But he didn't do that. Instead, Uncle Wiggily suddenly lifted up the broom, dressed as it was in the old coat and the tall hat with the grinning, white paper face like a Jack o' Lantern.

"Boo-oo-oo-bunk!" groaned the bunny rabbit, scary-like.

The boys, who were just getting ready to frighten the Little Old Lady of Mulberry Lane, jumped up in fright themselves. They saw the queer face laughing at them.

"Oh, it's a Hallowe'en hobgoblin! A hobgoblin!" cried one boy.

"Come on! Come on!" shouted the other. "Let's get out of here!" And dropping string, tick-tack and everything, away they ran. They never knew that it was only a bunny rabbit gentleman who had surprised them.

"Ha! Ha!" laughed Uncle Wiggily, as he peered out from behind the broomstick and the scary tall-hat creature he had made. "I guess they won't bother the Old Lady now!"

The Little Old Lady of Mulberry Lane laid aside the book she had been reading and opened her door.

"Is anybody there?" she gently asked, looking out over her dark garden. "Seems to me I heard a noise-like. Is anybody there, trying to play Hallowe'en tricks on a poor, lone body like me? Anybody there?"

No one answered--not even Uncle Wiggily--for he couldn't speak real talk, you know. But he heard what the Old Lady said.

"Nobody there! I guess it must have been the wind," said the Little Old Lady of Mulberry Lane, as she shut the door.

But we know it wasn't the wind; don't we?

Then the bunny hopped back to his own part of the forest, to have Hallowe'en fun with the animal boys and girls. The frightened boys ran home and jumped into bed. And if the piano key doesn't unlock the door of the phonograph, and let all the music run down the pussy cat's tail, you may next hear of Uncle Wiggily and the poor dog.

STORY XXI

UNCLE WIGGILY AND THE POOR DOG

Once upon a time there was a dog so poor that he had no kennel to sleep in. He made his bed in old boxes and barrels along the street, or behind stores. And as for things to eat--that poor dog thought himself lucky if he found a bone without any meat on it! Oh, he was dreadfully poor, was that dog!

He had no collar to wear, though of course he did not miss a necktie, for dogs never wear those. But when this dog saw other dogs, with shiny brass or nickel collars around their necks, when he saw some of them riding in automobiles as he splashed through the mud, and when he looked over in yards and saw some dogs gnawing juicy, meaty bones in front of their warm kennels--this poor dog sometimes felt sad.

"I don't see what use I am in this world," thought the poor dog, as he chased away a tickling fly who wanted to ride on his tail. "I certainly can't help anyone, for I can hardly help myself! I think I'll go off in the woods and get lost! Yes, that's what I'll do," barked the poor dog. "Get lost!"

Perhaps if he had had a good breakfast that morning, with a biscuit or two, or even a slice of puppy cake, he might have been more happy. As it was, after crawling out of an empty rain-water barrel, where he had slept all night, and after finding only a small bone for his breakfast, this dog went off to the woods.

"Good-bye, everybody!" he softly barked, as he stood on the edge of the forest, and looked back toward the village he was leaving. But there was no one even to bark a farewell to him. All alone the poor dog started into the woods. "Good-bye!" he whined.

Now in this same forest, on the opposite side from the trees nearest the village, stood the hollow stump bungalow of Uncle Wiggily Longears. And this same morning that the poor dog decided to lose himself, the bunny rabbit gentleman started out with his tall, silk hat, his red, white and blue striped rheumatism crutch, and his pink twinkling nose to look for an adventure.

"Keep your eyes open for the Woozie Wolf or the Fuzzy Fox!" called Nurse Jane, the muskrat lady housekeeper as Mr. Longears hopped away.

"I will!" promised the bunny uncle.

Uncle Wiggily hopped along and along and along, looking behind bushes and rocks for an adventure when, all of a sudden, he saw a sort of hole down in between two logs.

"Perhaps there is an adventure down in there for me," said the rabbit gentleman. "I'll poke my paw down in and find out. This hole isn't large enough to be the den of the Fox or Wolf."

Uncle Wiggily thrust one of his forepaws down into the hole, and began feeling around between the logs. He touched something soft and fuzzy, and he was just beginning to think that perhaps Baby Bunty was hiding down there so he couldn't tag her when, all of a quickness, those logs rolled together. Before Uncle Wiggily could pull out his paw it was caught fast, and there he was, held just as if he were in a trap.

"Oh, my goodness me, sakes alive, and a basket of soap bubbles!" cried the bunny rabbit gentleman. "I'm caught! How dreadful! I must get out!"

Well, he pulled and he pulled and he pulled, but still his paw was held fast. He scrabbled around among the dried leaves, he tried to lift one log off the other with his rheumatism crutch, and he tried to gnaw a hole in the top log that held him fast. But it was all of no use.

"Oh, I'm afraid I'll have to stay here forever, unless I get help!" thought Uncle Wiggily. "But I must call for aid! Perhaps Grandpa Goosey, or Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, will hear me!"

Uncle Wiggily stopped his pink nose from twinkling, so that he could call more loudly, and then he shouted:

"Help! Help! Help!"

For a time there was no answer, only the wind blowing among the leaves of the trees. And then, all at once, there was a rustling in the bushes and a voice asked:

"Who calls for help?"

"I do," answered Uncle Wiggily. "Oh, even if you are the Woozie Wolf or the Fuzzy Fox, please help me!"

"I am neither the Wolf nor the Fox," was the answer. "I am only a poor dog who came to this forest to lose himself. I never have been able yet to help anyone."

"Well, perhaps you can help me," said Uncle Wiggily, as cheerfully as he could speak. "Come here and see where the logs have fallen on my paw, holding me fast."

So the poor dog, with his ragged clothes which made him look almost like a tramp, came through the bushes, close to Uncle Wiggily.

"My, but you're stylish!" said the dog, as he saw Uncle Wiggily's tall, silk hat.

"That isn't anything," sadly said the bunny rabbit gentleman. "Tall hats do not make for happiness. I'd rather have on an old, ragged cap, like yours, and be free, than wear a diamond and gold crown like a king and be held fast here."

"Yes, it isn't fun to be caught in a trap," barked the poor dog. "But I think I can gnaw through one of those logs and set you free."

Then he began to gnaw. He gnawed and he gnawed and he gnawed, and, in a little while, one of the logs was cut in two, just as if it had been sawed, and Uncle Wiggily could pull out his paw.

"I can't tell you how thankful I am," said the bunny to the dog. "What fine, strong white teeth you have. How did you get them?"

"From gnawing bones without any soft meat on them, I suppose," answered the dog. "Poor dogs must have strong teeth, or they would starve. Rich dogs, who get soft food, can afford to have soft teeth."

"Well, then I am very glad you are a poor dog!" laughed Uncle Wiggily.

"You are?" barked the other, in great surprise.

"Certainly; of course I am!" exclaimed the bunny. "Just think! Suppose you had been one of those rich dogs, with soft, crumbly teeth! You would not have been able to gnaw through the log and I would still be held fast."

"Yes, that's so," agreed the dog, wagging his tail. "I never thought of that."

"Then be thankful, as I am, that you are poor, and have strong teeth," went on Mr. Longears. "You have been of great help to me."

"Have I?" barked the dog. "Then I am very glad! I never before helped anyone. I thought I was too poor!"

"Well, you aren't going to be poor any more," went on the bunny rabbit gentleman. "Come to the woods and live near my hollow stump bungalow. I have a friend, Old Dog Percival, who will let you stay in his kennel. He is rich!"

"Oh, that makes me very happy!" said the dog, who used to be poor. "I have always wanted a kennel to live in!"

Then he went home with the bunny rabbit. And, though he never became a very rich dog, still he had a warm kennel, which Percival shared with him, and he always had enough to eat; and he became great friends with Mr. Longears and Nurse Jane.

So this teaches us that even if a lollypop has a stick this does not mean it needs a whipping. And if the sunflower doesn't shine so brightly in the eyes of the potato that it can't see to get out of the oven, I'll tell you next about Uncle Wiggily and the rich cat.

STORY XXII

UNCLE WIGGILY AND THE RICH CAT

Once upon a time there was a very rich cat, but with all she had she was not happy. She owned an automobile and kept a little mouse servant girl to wait on her. And an old gentleman rat did all the heavy work around the house, such as putting out the ashes and cutting the grass.

"Heigh-ho!" sighed the rich cat lady one morning, after she had lapped up some thick, heavy cream, which was left on her doorstep each day. "Heigh-ho! I am so tired!"

"Tired of what?" squeaked the little mouse servant, as she brought a paper napkin for the rich cat to wipe the cream from her whiskers. Even though she was well-off, the cat lady had whiskers, and she was very proud of them.

"Oh, I am tired of sitting around doing nothing!" purred the rich cat.

"Then why not go for a ride in your auto?" asked the poor little mouse servant girl.

"I am tired of that, too," spoke the rich cat. "It is the same old thing every day! Dress and go out. Come back and dress to eat! Dress to go out again! Come back and undress to go to bed and get up in the morning to dress and do it all over again! I--I'd like to have an _adventure_!" mewed the cat lady.

"Oh, mercy! An _adventure_!" squeaked the mouse. "Never!"

"Yes," went on the cat, "a real, exciting adventure. I saw a poor dog the other day--at least he used to be poor, and he is far from rich now. But he looked so well, and so lively, with such strong, white teeth! I heard him telling another dog he had had a most wonderful adventure in the woods with an old rabbit gentleman named Uncle Wiggily. I quite envied that poor dog!"

"Oh, and you so rich!" murmured the mousie girl.

"I don't care!" mewed the wealthy cat lady. "I'd almost be willing to be poor if I could have an adventure. Come, I'll go for a ride in the auto. It will be better than dawdling around the house."

So the cat lady ordered out her auto, with the rat gentleman to drive it, and the little mousie girl to sit beside her on the cushioned seat.

"Where shall I drive to, Lady Cat?" asked the old gentleman rat chauffeur.

"Oh, anywhere--to the woods--the fields--anywhere so that I may have an adventure--I don't care!" mewed the rich cat.

So the rat gentleman drove the auto through the village, and out into the forest. At first the roads were very good, but at last they became bumpy, and the cat lady and mousie girl were much shaken up and jiggled about, not to say joggled.

"Do you want to go on?" asked the rat.

"Oh, yes," answered the cat. "It shakes up my liver, and I seem to be feeling more hungry. Go on, perhaps I shall find an adventure."

The auto lurched and bumped on a little farther and, all of a sudden there was a crash.

"Oh!" screamed the little mousie girl.

"What is the matter?" asked the cat lady, looking through her fancy glasses.

"We have had an accident," answered the gentleman rat. "The auto is broken, and I shall have to go for help."

"Let us go, also," squeaked the mousie girl. "We don't want to stay here in the woods alone."

"_You_ may not want to," said the cat with a smile. "But _I_ am going to. Run along with Mr. Rat, Miss Mouse, and get help. I'll stay here!"

So the rich cat lady was left alone, sitting in the auto, one wheel of which was broken, while the rat gentleman and mousie girl went to look for a garage where they could get help.