Well, Bawly begged and pleaded, but it was of no use. That alligator simply would not let him go, but held him tightly in his claws, and made ugly faces at him, just like the masks on Hallowe’en night.
All this while Sammie Littletail sat on the bank of the pond, too frightened, at the sight of the alligator, to hop away. He was afraid the savage creature might, at any moment, spring out and grab him also, and the rabbit boy just sat there, not knowing what to do.
“I wish I could save Bawly,” thought Sammie, “but how can I? I can’t fight a big alligator, and if I throw stones at him it will only make him more angry. Oh, if only there was a fireman or a policeman in the woods, I’d tell him, and he’d hit the alligator, and make him go away. But there isn’t a policeman or a fireman here!”
Then the alligator started to swim away with poor Bawly, to take him off to his deep, dark, dismal den, when, all of a sudden, Sammie happened to think of the two willow whistles he had—his own and Bawly’s.
“I wonder if I could scare the alligator with them, and make him let Bawly go?” Sammiethought. Then he made up a plan. He crept softly to one side, and he hid behind a stump. Then he took the two whistles and he put them into his mouth.
Next, the rabbit boy gathered up a whole lot of little stones in a pile. And the next thing he did was to build a little fire out of dry sticks. Then he hunted up an old tin can that had once held baked beans, but which now didn’t have anything in it.
“Oh, I’ll make that alligator wish he’d never caught Bawly!” exclaimed Sammie, working very quickly, for the savage reptile was fast swimming away with the frog boy.
Sammie put the stones in the tin can, together with some water, and he set the can on the fire to boil, and he knew the stones would get hot, too, as well as the water. And, surely enough, soon the water in the can was bubbling and the stones were very hot.
Then Sammie took a long breath and he blew on those whistles, both at the same time as hard as ever he could. Then he took some wet moss and wrapped it around the hot can, so it wouldn’t burn his paws, and he tossed everything—hot water, hot stones, hot can and all—over into the pond, close to where the alligator was. Then Sammie blew on the whistles some more. “Toot! Toot! Toot! Toot!”
“Splash!” Into the water went the hot stones, hissing like snakes.
“Buzz! Bubble! Fizz!” went the hot water all over the alligator.
“Toot! Toot!” went the whistles which Sammie was blowing.
“Skizz! Skizz!” went the hot fire-ashes that also fell into the pond.
“Oh, it’s a fire engine after me! It’s a terrible fire engine after me! It’s spouting hot water and sparks on me!” cried the alligator, real frightened like, and then he was so scared that he let go of Bawly, and sank away down to the bottom of the pond to get out of the way of the hot stones and the hot water and the hot sparks, and where he couldn’t hear the screechy whistles which he thought came from fire engines. And Bawly swam safely to shore, and he thanked Sammie Littletail very kindly for saving his life, and they went on a little farther and had a nice game of tag together until supper time.
So that’s how the whistles that Bawly made did him a good service, and next, if it stops raining long enough so the moon can come out without getting wet, and go to the moving pictures, I’ll tell you about Grandpa Croaker and Uncle Wiggily Longears.
STORY XVIIGRANDPA CROAKER AND UNCLE WIGGILY
After the trick which Sammie Littletail, the rabbit boy, played on the alligator, making him believe a fire engine was after him, it was some time before Bully or Bawly No-Tail, the frogs, went near that pond again, where the savage creature with the long tail lived, after he had escaped from the circus.
“Because it isn’t safe to go near that water,” said Bawly.
“No, indeed,” agreed his brother. “Some day we’ll get a pump and pump all the water out of the pond, and that will make the alligator go away.”
Well, it was about a week after this that Grandpa Croaker, the old gentleman frog, put on his best dress. Oh, dear me! Just listen to that, would you! I mean he put on his best suit and started out, taking his gold-headed cane with him.
“Where are you going?” asked Mrs. No-Tail.
“Oh! I think I’ll go over and play a game of checkers with Uncle Wiggily Longears,” replied the old gentleman frog. “The last game we played he won, but I think I can win this time.”
“Well, whatever you do, Grandpa,” spoke Bully, “please don’t go past the pond where the bad alligator is.”
“No, indeed, for he might bite you,” said Bawly, and their Grandpa promised that he would be careful.
Well, he went along through the woods, Grandpa Croaker did, and pretty soon, after a while, not so very long, he came to where Uncle Wiggily lived, with Sammie and Susie Littletail, and their papa and mamma and Miss Jane Fuzzy-Wuzzy, the muskrat nurse. But to-day only Uncle Wiggily was home alone, for every one else had gone to the circus.
So the old gentleman goat—I mean frog—and the old gentleman rabbit sat down and played a game of checkers. And after they had played one game they played another, and another still, for Uncle Wiggily won the first game, and Grandpa Croaker won the second, and they wanted to see who would win the third.
Well, they were playing away, moving the red and black round checkers back and forth on the red and black checker board, and they were talking about the weather, and whether there’d be any more rain, and all things like that, when, all of a sudden Uncle Wiggily heard a noise at the window.
“Hello! What’s that?” he cried, looking up.
“It sounded like some one breaking the glass,” answered Grandpa Croaker. “I hope it wasn’t Bawly and Bully playing ball.”
Then he looked up, and he saw the same thing that Uncle Wiggily saw, and the funny part of it was that Uncle Wiggily saw the same thing Grandpa Croaker saw. And what do you think this was?
Why it was that savage skillery, scalery alligator chap who had poked his ugly nose right in through the window, breaking the glass!
“Ha! What do you want here?” cried Uncle Wiggily, as he made his ears wave back and forth like palm leaf fans, and twinkled his nose like two stars on a frosty night.
“Yes, get right away from here, if you please!” said Grandpa Croaker in his deepest, hoarsest, rumbling, grumbling, thunder-voice. “Get away, we want to play checkers.”
But he couldn’t scare the alligator that way,and the first thing he and Uncle Wiggily knew, that savage creature poked his nose still farther into the room.
“Oh, ho!” the alligator cried. “Checkers; eh? Now, do you know I am very fond of checkers?” And with that, what did he do but put out his long tongue, and with one sweep he licked up the red checkers and the black checkers and the red and black squared checker board at one swallow, and down his throat it went, like a sled going down hill.
“Ah, ha!” exclaimed the alligator. “Those were very fine checkers. I think I won that game!” he said, smiling a very big smile.
“Yes, I guess you did,” said Uncle Wiggily, sadly, as he looked for his cornstalk crutch. When he had it he was just going to hop away, and Grandpa Croaker was going with him, for they were afraid to stay there any more, when the alligator suddenly cried:
“Where are you going?”
“Away,” said Uncle Wiggily.
“Far, far away,” said Grandpa Croaker, for it made him sad to think of all the nice red and black checkers, and the board also, being eaten up.
“Oh, no! I think you are going to stay righthere,” snapped the alligator. “You’ll stay here, and as soon as I feel hungry again I’ll eat you.”
And with that the savage creature with the double-jointed tail put out his claws, and in one claw he grabbed Uncle Wiggily and in the other he caught Grandpa Croaker, and there he had them both.
Now, it so happened that a little while before this, Bully and Bawly No-Tail, the frog boys, had started out for a walk in the woods.
“Dear me,” said Bully, after a while, “do you know I am afraid that something has happened to Grandpa Croaker.”
“What makes you think so?” asked his brother.
“Because I think he went past the pond where the alligator was, and that the bad creature got him.”
“Oh, I hope not,” replied Bawly. “But let’s walk along and see.” So they walked past the pond, and they saw that it was all calm and peaceful, and they knew the alligator wasn’t in it.
So they kept on to Uncle Wiggily’s house, thinking they would walk home with Grandpa Croaker, and when they came to where the old gentleman rabbit lived, they saw the alligator standing on his tail outside with his head in through the window.
“I knew it!” cried Bully. “I knew that alligator would be up to some tricks! Perhaps he has already eaten Grandpa Croaker and Uncle Wiggily.”
Just then they heard both the old animal gentlemen squealing inside the house, for the alligator was squeezing them.
“They’re alive! They’re still alive!” cried Bawly. “We must save them!”
“How?” asked Bully.
“Let’s build a fire under the alligator’s tail,” suggested Bawly. “He can’t see us, for his head is inside the room.”
So what did those two brave frog boys do but make a fire of leaves under the alligator’s long tail. And he was so surprised at feeling the heat, that he turned suddenly around, dropped Uncle Wiggily and Grandpa Croaker on the table cloth, and then, pulling his head out of the window, he turned it over toward the fire, and he cried great big alligator tears on the flames and put them out. Oh, what a lot of big tears he cried.
Then he tried to catch Bully and Bawly, but the frog boys hopped away, and the alligator ran after them. Just then the man from the circus came, with a long rope and caught the savage beast and put him back in the cage and madehim go to sleep, after he put some vaseline on his burns.
So that’s how Bully and Bawly saved Uncle Wiggily and Grandpa Croaker, by building a fire under the alligator’s long tail.
And in case some one sends me a nice ring for my finger, or thumb, with a big orange in it instead of a diamond, I’ll tell you next about Mrs. No-Tail and Mrs. Longtail.
STORY XVIIIMRS. NO-TAIL AND MRS. LONGTAIL
“Now, boys,” said Mrs. No-Tail, the frog lady, to Bully and Bawly one day, as she put on her best bonnet and shawl and started out, “I hope you will be good while I am away.”
“Where are you going, mamma?” asked Bully.
“I am going over to call on Mrs. Longtail, the mouse,” replied Mrs. No-Tail. “She is the mother of the mice children, Jollie and Jillie Longtail, you know, and she has been ill with mouse-trap fever. So I am taking her some custard pie, and a bit of toasted cheese.”
“Oh, of course we’ll be good,” promised Bawly. “But if you don’t come home in time for supper, mamma, what shall we eat?”
“I have made up a cold supper for you and your papa and Grandpa Croaker,” said Mrs. No-tail. “You will find it in the oven of the stove. You may eat at 5 o’clock, but I think I’ll be back before then.”
Poor Mrs. No-Tail didn’t know what was going to happen to her, nor how near she was to never coming home at all again. But there, wait, if you please, I’ll tell you all about it.
Away hopped Mrs. No-Tail through the woods, carrying the custard pie and the toasted cheese for Mrs. Longtail in a little basket. And when she got there, I mean to the mouse house, she found the mouse lady home all alone, for Jollie and Jillie and Squeaky-Eaky, the little cousin mouse, had gone to a surprise party, given by Nellie Chip-Chip, the sparrow girl.
“Oh, I’m so glad to see you,” said Mrs. Longtail. “Come right in, if you please, Mrs. No-Tail. I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
“Oh, are you able to be about?” asked Bully’s mamma.
“Yes,” replied Jollie’s mamma. “I am much better, thank you. I am so glad you brought me a custard pie. But now sit right down by the window, where you can smell the flowers in the garden, and I’ll make tea.”
Well in a little while, about forty-’leven seconds, Mrs. Longtail had the tea made, and she and Mrs. No-Tail sat in the dining-room eating it—I mean sipping it—for it was quite hot. And they were talking about spring housecleaning, and about moths getting in the closets, and eatingup the blankets and the piano, and about whether there would be many mosquitoes this year, after Bawly had killed such numbers of them with his bean shooter. They talked of many other things, and finally Mrs. Longtail said:
“Let me get you another cup of tea, Mrs. No-Tail.”
So the lady mouse went out in the kitchen to get the tea off the stove, and when she got there, what do you think she saw? Why, a great, big, ugly, savage cat had, somehow or other, gotten into the room and there he sat in front of the fire, washing his face, which was very dirty.
“Oh, ho!” exclaimed the cat, blinking his yellow eyes, “I was wondering whether anybody was at home here.”
“Yes, I am at home!” exclaimed the mouse lady, “and I want you to get right out of my house, Mr. Cat.”
“Well,” replied the cat, licking his whiskers with his red tongue, “I’m not going! That’s all there is to it. I am glad I found you at home, but you are not going to be at home long.”
“Why not?” asked Mrs. Longtail, suspicious like.
“Because,” answered that bad cat, “I am going to eat you up, and I think I’ll start right in!”
“Oh, don’t!” begged Mrs. Longtail, as she tried to run back into the dining-room, where Mrs. No-Tail was sitting. But the savage cat was too quick for her, and in an instant he had her in his paws, and was glaring at her with his yellowish-green eyes.
“I don’t know whether to eat you head first or tail first,” said the cat, as he looked at the poor mouse lady. “I must make up my mind before I begin.”
Now while he was making up his mind Mrs. No-Tail sat in the other room, wondering what kept Mrs. Longtail such a long time away, getting the second cup of tea.
“Perhaps I had better go and see what’s keeping her,” Mrs. No-Tail thought. “She may have burned herself on the hot stove, or teapot.” So she went toward the kitchen, and there she saw a dreadful sight, for there was that bad cat, holding poor Mrs. Longtail in his claws and opening his mouth to eat her.
“Oh, let me go! Please let me go!” the mouse lady begged.
“No, I’ll not,” answered the cat, and once more he licked his whiskers with his red tongue.
“Oh, I must do something to that cat!” thought Mrs. No-Tail. “I must make him let Mrs. Longtail go.”
So she thought and thought, and finally the frog lady saw a sprinkling can hanging on a nail in the dining-room, where Mrs. Longtail kept it to water the flowers with.
“I think that will do,” said Mrs. No-Tail. So she very quietly and carefully took it off the nail, and then she went softly out of the front door, and around to the side of the house to the rain-water barrel, where she filled the watering can. Then she came back with it into the house.
“Now,” she thought, “if I can only get up behind the cat and pour the water on him, he’ll think it’s raining, and as cats don’t like rain he may run away, and let Mrs. Longtail go.”
So Mrs. No-Tail tip-toed out into the kitchen as quietly as she could, for she didn’t want the cat to see her. But the savage animal, who had made his tail as big as a skyrocket, was getting ready to eat Mrs. Longtail, and he was going to begin head first. So he didn’t notice Mrs. No-Tail.
Up she went behind him, on her tippiest tiptoes, and she held the watering can above his head. Then she tilted it up, and suddenly out came the water—drip! drip! drip! splash! splash!
Upon the cat’s furry back it fell, and my, you should have seen how surprised that cat was!
“Why, it’s raining in the house,” he cried.“The roof must leak. The water is coming in! Get a plumber! Get a plumber!”
Then he gave a big jump, and bumped his head on the mantelpiece, and this so startled him that he dropped Mrs. Longtail, and she scampered off down in a deep, dark hole and hid safely away. Then the cat saw Mrs. No-Tail pouring water from the can, and he knew he had been fooled.
“Oh, I’ll get you!” he cried, and he jumped at her, but the frog lady threw the sprinkling can at the cat, and it went right over his head like a bonnet, and frightened him so that he jumped out of the window and ran away. And he didn’t come back for a week or more. So that’s how Mrs. No-Tail saved Mrs. Longtail.
Now in case the baker man doesn’t take the front door bell away to put it on the rag doll’s carriage, I’ll tell you next about Bawly and Arabella Chick.
STORY XIXBAWLY AND ARABELLA CHICK.
Bawly No-Tail, the frog boy, had been kept in after school one day for whispering. It was something he very seldom did in class, and I’m quite surprised that he did it this time.
You see, he was very anxious to play in a ball game, and when teacher went to the blackboard to draw a picture of a cat, so the pupils could spell the word better, Bawly leaned over and asked Sammie Littletail, the rabbit boy, in a whisper:
“Say, Sammie, will you have a game of ball after school?”
Sammie shook his head “yes,” but he didn’t talk. And the lady mouse teacher heard Bawly whispering, and she made him stay in. But he was sorry for it, and promised not to do it again, and so he wasn’t kept in very late.
Well, after a while the nice mouse teacher said Bawly could go, and soon he was on his way home, and he was wondering if he would meet Sammie or any of his friends, but he didn’t, asthey had hurried down to the vacant lots, where the circus tents were being put up for a show.
“Oh, my, how lonesome it is!” exclaimed Bawly. “I wish I had some one to play with. I wonder where all the boys are?”
“I don’t know where they are,” suddenly answered a voice, “but if you like, Bawly, I will play house with you. I have my doll, and we can have lots of fun.”
Bawly looked around, to make sure it wasn’t a wolf or a bad owl trying to fool him, and there he saw Arabella Chick, the little chicken girl, standing by a big pie-plant. It wasn’t a plant that pies grow on, you understand, but the kind of plant that mamma makes pies from.
“Don’t you want to play house?” asked Arabella, kindly, of Bawly.
“No—no thank you, I—I guess not,” answered Bawly, bashfully standing first on one leg, and then on the other. “I—er—that is—well, you know, only girls play house,” the frog boy said, for, though he liked Arabella very much, he was afraid that if he played house with her some of his friends might come along and laugh at him.
“Some boys play house,” answered the little chicken girl. “But no matter. Perhaps you would like to come to the store with me.”
“What are you going to get?” asked Bawly, curious like.
“Some kernels of corn for supper,” answered Arabella, “and I also have a penny to spend for myself. I am going to get some watercress candy, and—”
“Oh, I’ll gladly come to the store with you,” cried Bawly, real excited like. “I’ll go right along. I don’t care very much about playing ball with the boys. I’d rather go with you.”
“I’ll give you some of my candy if you come,” went on Arabella, who didn’t like to go alone.
“I thought—that is, I hoped you would,” spoke Bawly, shyly-like. Well, the frog boy and the chicken girl went on to the store, and Arabella got the corn, and also a penny’s worth of nice candy flavored with watercress, which is almost as good as spearmint gum.
The two friends were walking along toward home, each one taking a bite of candy now and then, and Bawly was carrying the basket of corn. He was taking a nice bite off the stick of candy that Arabella held out to him, and he was thinking how kind she was, when, all of a sudden the frog boy stumbled and fell, and before he knew it the basket of corn slipped from his paw, and into a pond of water it fell—ker-splash!
“Oh dear!” cried Arabella.
“Oh dear!” also cried Bawly. “Now I have gone and done it; haven’t I?”
“But—but I guess you didn’t mean to,” spoke Arabella, kindly.
“No,” replied Bawly, “I certainly did not. But perhaps I can get the corn up for you. I’ll reach down and try.”
So he stretched out on the bank of the pond, and reached his front leg down into the water as far as it would go, but he couldn’t touch the corn, for it was scattered out of the basket, all over the floor, or bottom, of the pond.
“That will never do!” cried Bawly. “I guess I’ll have to dive down for that corn.”
“Dive down!” exclaimed Arabella. “Oh, if you dive down under water you’ll get all wet. Wait, and perhaps the water will all run out of the pond and we can then get the corn.”
“Oh I don’t mind the wet,” replied the frog boy. “My clothes are made purposely for that. I’m so sorry I spilled the corn.” So into the water Bawly popped, clothes and all, just as when you fall out of a boat, and down to the bottom he went. But when he tried to pick up the corn he had trouble. For the kernels were all wet and slippery and Bawly couldn’t very well hold his paw full of corn, and swim at the same time. So he had to let go of the corn, and up he popped.
“Oh!” cried Arabella, when she saw he didn’t have any corn. “I’m so sorry! What shall we do? We need the corn for supper.”
“I’ll try again,” promised Bawly, and he did, again and again, but still he couldn’t get any of the corn up from under the water. And he felt badly, and so did Arabella, and even eating what they had left of the candy didn’t make them feel any better.
“I tell you what it is!” cried Bawly, after he had tried forty-’leven times to dive down after the corn, “what I need is something like an ash sieve. Then I could scoop up the corn and water, and the water would run out, and leave the corn there.”
“But you haven’t any sieve,” said Arabella, “and so you can never get the corn, and we won’t have any supper, and—— Oh, dear! Boo-hoo! Hoo-boo!”
“Oh, please don’t cry,” begged Bawly, who felt badly enough himself. “Here, wait, I’ll see if I can’t drink all the water out of the pond, and that will leave the ground dry so we can get the corn.”
Well, he tried, but, bless you, he couldn’t begin to drink all the water in the pond. And he didn’t know what to do, until, all of a sudden, he saw, coming along the road, Aunt Lettie, the nice old lady goat. And what do you think she had? Why, a coffee strainer, that she had bought at the five-and-ten-cent store. As soon as Bawly saw that strainer he asked Aunt Lettie if he could take it.
She said he could, and pretty soon down he dived under the water again, and with the coffee strainer it was very easy to scoop up the corn from the bottom of the pond, and soon Bawly got it all back again, and the water hadn’t hurt it a bit, only making it more tender and juicy for cooking.
And just as Bawly got up the last of the corn in the coffee strainer, down swooped a big owl, and he tried to grab Bawly and Arabella and the corn and sieve and Aunt Lettie, all at the same time. But the old lady goat drove him away with her sharp horns, and then Bawly and Arabella thanked her very kindly and went home, the frog boy carrying the corn he had gotten up from the pond, and taking care not to spill it again. And so every one was happy but the owl.
Now in case the fish man doesn’t paint the glass of the parlor windows sky-blue pink, so I can’t see Uncle Wiggily Longears when he rings the door bell, I’ll tell you next about Bully and Dottie Trot.
STORY XXBAWLY AND ARABELLA CHICK.
One day Bully No-Tail, the frog boy, was hopping along through the woods, and he felt so very fine, and it was such a nice day, that, when he came to a place where some flowers grew up near an old stump, nodding their pretty heads in the wind, the frog boy sang a little song.
“I love to skip and jump and hop,I love to hear firecrackers pop,I love to playThe whole long day,I love to spin my humming top.”
That’s what Bully sang, and if there had been a second, or a third, or a forty-’leventh verse he would have sung that too, as he felt so good. Well, after he had sung the one verse he hopped on some more, and pretty soon he came to the place where the mouse lady lived, whose basket of chips Bully had once picked up, when she hurther foot on a thorn. I guess you remember about that story.
“Ah, how to you do, Bully?” asked the mouse lady, as the frog boy hopped along.
“Thank you, I am very well,” he answered politely. “I hope you are feeling pretty good.”
“Well,” she made answer, “I might feel better. I have a little touch of cat-and-mouse-trap fever, but I think if I stay in my hole and take plenty of toasted cheese, I’ll be better. But here is a nice sugar cookie for you,” and with that the nice mouse lady went to the cupboard, got a cookie, and gave it to the frog boy.
Bully ate it without getting a single crumb on the floor, which was very good of him, and then, saving a piece of the cookie for his brother Bawly, he hopped on, after bidding the mouse lady good-by and hoping that she would soon be better.
Along and along hopped Bully, and all of a sudden the big giant jumped out of the bushes—Oh, excuse me, if you please! there is no giant in this story. The giant went back to the circus, but I’ll tell you a story about him as soon as I may. As Bully was hopping along, all of a sudden out from behind a bush there jumped a savage, ugly wolf, and he had gotten out of his circus cage again, and was looking around for something to eat.
“Ah, ha! At last I have found something!” cried the wolf, as he made a spring for Bully, and he caught the frog boy under his paws and held him down to the earth, just like a cat catches a mouse.
“Oh, let me go! Please let me go! You are squeezing the breath out of me!” cried poor Bully.
“Indeed I will not let you go!” replied the wolf, real unpleasant-like. “I have been looking for something to eat all day and now that I’ve found it I’m not going to let you go. No, indeed, and some horseradish in a bottle besides.”
“Are you really going to eat me?” asked Bully, sorrowfully.
“I certainly am,” replied the wolf. “You just watch me. Oh, no, I forgot. You can’t see me eat you, but you can feel me, which is much the same thing.”
Then the wolf sharpened his teeth on a sharpening stone, and he got ready to eat up the frog boy. Now Bully didn’t want to be eaten, and I don’t blame him a bit; do you? He wanted to go play ball, and have a lot of fun with his friends, and he was thinking what a queer world this is, where you can be happy and singing a song, and eating a sugar cookie one minute, and the nextminute be caught by a wolf. But that’s the way it generally is.
Then, as Bully thought of how good the sugar cookie was he asked the wolf:
“Will you let me go for a piece of cookie, Mr. Wolf?”
“Let me see the cookie,” spoke the savage creature.
So Bully reached in his pocket, and took out the piece of cookie that he was saving for Bawly. He knew Bawly would only be too glad to have the wolf take it, if he let his brother Bully go.
But, would you ever believe it? That unpleasant and most extraordinary wolf animal snatched the cookie from Bully’s paw, ate it up with one mouthful, and only smiled.
“Well, now, are you going to let me go?” asked Bully.
“No,” said the wolf. “That cookie only made me more hungry. I guess I’ll eat you now, and then go look for your brother and eat him, too.”
“Oh, will no one save me?” cried Bully in despair, and just then he heard a rustling in the bushes. He looked up and there he saw Dottie Trot, the little pony girl. She waved her hoof at Bully, and then the frog boy knew she would save him if she could. So he thought of a plan, while Dottie, with her new red hair ribbon tiedin a pink bow, hid in the bushes, where the wolf couldn’t see her, and waited.
“Well, if you are going to eat me, Mr. Wolf,” said Bully, most politely, after a while, “will you grant me one favor before you do so?”
“What is it?” asked the wolf, still sharpening his teeth.
“Let me take one last hop before I die?” asked Bully.
“Very well,” answered the wolf. “One hop and only one, remember. And don’t think you can get away, for I can run faster than you can hop.”
Bully knew that, but he was thinking of Dottie Trot. So the wolf took his paws off Bully, and the frog boy got ready to take a last big hop. He looked over through the bushes, and saw the pony girl, and then he gave a great, big, most tremendous and extraordinarily strenuous jump, and landed right on Dottie’s back!
“Here we go!” cried the pony girl. “Here is where I save Bully No-Tail! Good-by bad Mr. Wolf.” And away she trotted as fast as the wind.
“Here, come back with my supper! Come back with my supper!” cried the disappointed wolf, and off he ran after Dottie, who had Bully safely on her back.
Faster and faster ran the wolf, but faster and faster ran Dottie, and no wolf could ever catch her, no matter how fast he ran. And Dottie galloped and trotted and cantered, and went on and on, and on, and the wolf came after her, but he kept on being left farther and farther behind, and at last Dottie was out of the woods, and she and Bully were safe, for the wolf didn’t dare go any nearer, for fear the circus men would catch him.
“Oh, thank you so much, Dottie, for saving me,” said Bully. “I’ll give you this other piece of cookie I was saving for Bawly. He won’t mind.”
So he gave it to Dottie, and she liked it very much indeed, and that wolf was so angry and disappointed about not having any supper that he bit his claw nails almost off, and went back into the woods, and growled, and growled, and growled all night, worse than a buzzing mosquito.
But Bully and Dottie didn’t care a bit and they went on home and they met Uncle Wiggily Longears, the rabbit gentleman, who bought them an ice cream soda flavored with carrots.
Now in case my little bunny rabbit doesn’t bite a hole in the back steps so the milkman drops a bottle down it when he comes in the morning, I’ll tell you in the following story about Grandpa Croaker and Brighteyes Pigg.
STORY XXIGRANDPA AND BRIGHTEYES PIGG
One nice warm day, right after he had eaten a breakfast of watercress oatmeal, with sweet-flag-root-sugar and milk on it, Grandpa Croaker, the nice old gentleman frog, started out for a hop around the woods near the pond. And he took with him his cane with the crook on the handle, hanging it over his paw.
“Where are you going, Grandpa?” asked Bully No-Tail, as he and his brother Bawly started for school.
“Oh, I hardly know,” said the old frog gentleman in his hoarsest, deepest, thundering, croaking voice. “Perhaps I may meet with a fairy or a big giant, or even the alligator bird.”
“The alligator isn’t a bird, Grandpa,” spoke Bawly.
“Oh no, to be sure,” agreed the old gentleman rabbit—I mean frog—“no more it is. I was thinking of the Pelican. Well, anyhow I am going out for a walk, and if you didn’t have to goto school you could come with me. But I’ll take you next time, and we may go to the Wild West show together.”
“Oh fine!” cried Bully, as he hopped away with his school books under his front leg.
“Oh fine and dandy!” exclaimed Bawly, as he looked in his spelling book to see how to spell “cow.”
Well, the frog boys hopped on to school, and Grandpa Croaker hopped off to the woods. He went on and on, and he was wondering what sort of an adventure he would have, when he heard a little noise up in the trees. He looked up through his glasses, and he saw Jennie Chipmunk there.
She was a little late for school, but she was hurrying all she could. She called “good morning” to Grandpa Croaker, and he tossed her up a sugar cookie that he happened to have in his pocket. Wasn’t he the nice old Grandpa, though? Well, I just guess he was!
So he went on a little farther, and pretty soon he came to the place where Buddy and Brighteyes Pigg lived. Only Buddy wasn’t at home, being at school. But Brighteyes, the little guinea pig girl, was there in the house, and she was suffering from the toothache, I’m sorry to say.
Oh! the poor little guinea pig girl was in great pain, and that’s why she couldn’t go to school.Her face was all tied up in a towel with a bag of hot salt on it, but even that didn’t seem to do any good.
“Oh, I’m so sorry for you, Brighteyes!” exclaimed Grandpa. “Have you had Dr. Possum? Where is your mamma?”
“Mamma has gone to the doctor’s now to get me something to stop the pain,” answered Brighteyes, “and to-morrow I am going to have the tooth pulled. We tried mustard and cloves and all things like that but nothing would stop the pain.”
“Perhaps if I tell you a little story it will make you forget it until mamma comes with the doctor’s medicine,” suggested Grandpa, and then and there he told Brighteyes a funny story about a little white rabbit that lived in a garden and had carrots to eat, and it ate so many that its white hair turned red and it looked too cute for anything, and then it went to the circus.
Well, the story made Brighteyes forget the pain for a time, but the story couldn’t last forever, and soon the pain came back. Then Grandpa thought of something else.
“Why are all the ladders, and boards, and cans, and brushes piled outside your house?” he asked Brighteyes, for he had noticed them as he came in.
“Oh! we are having the house painted,” said Brighteyes.
“But where is the painter monkey?” asked Grandpa. “I didn’t see him.”
“Oh! he forgot to bring some red paint to make the blinds green or blue or some color like that,” answered the little guinea pig girl, “so he went home to get it. He’ll be back soon.”
“Suppose you come outside and show me how he paints the house,” suggested Grandpa, thinking perhaps that might make Brighteyes forget her pain.
“Of course I will, Grandpa Croaker,” said the little creature. “I know just how he paints, for I watched him just before you came, and when I saw him put on the bright colors it made me forget my toothache. Come, I’ll show you how he does it.”
So Brighteyes took Grandpa’s paw, and led him outside where there were ladders and scaffolds and pots of paint and lumps of putty, and spots of bright colors all over, and lots of brushes, little and big, and more putty and paint, and oh! I don’t know what all.
“Now this is how the painter monkey does it,” said Brighteyes. “He takes a brush, and he dips it in the paint pot, and then he lets some of the loose paint fall off, and then he wiggles the brushup and down and sideways and across the middle on the boards of the house, and—it’s painted.”
“I see,” said Grandpa, and then, before he could stop her, Brighteyes took one of the painter monkey’s brushes, and dipped it into a pot of the pink paint. And she leaned over too far, and the first thing you know she fell right into that pink paint pot, clothes, toothache and all! What do you think of that?
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” she cried, as soon as she could get her breath. “This is awful—terrible!”
“It certainly is!” said Grandpa Croaker. “But never mind, Brighteyes. I’ll help you out. Don’t cry.” So he fished her out with his cane, and he took some rags, and some turpentine, and he cleaned off the pink paint as best he could, and then he took Brighteyes into the house, and the little guinea pig girl put on clean clothes, and then she looked as good as ever, except that there were some spots of pink paint on her nose.
“Never mind,” said Grandpa, as he gave her a sugar cookie, and just then Mrs. Pigg came back with the doctor’s medicine.
“Why—why!” exclaimed Brighteyes as she kissed her mother, “my toothache has all stopped!” and, surely enough it had. I guess itgot scared because of the pink paint and went away.
Anyhow the tooth didn’t ache any more, and the next day Brighteyes went to the dentist’s and had it pulled. And the painter monkey didn’t mind about the paint that was spilled, and Mrs. Pigg didn’t mind about Brighteyes’s dress being spoiled, and they all thought Grandpa Croaker was as kind as he could be, and he didn’t mind because his cane was colored pink, where he fished out the little guinea pig girl with it. So everybody was happy.
Now in case our cat doesn’t fall into the red paint pot and then go to sleep on my typewriter paper and make it look blue, I’ll tell you next about Papa No-Tail and Nannie Goat.