After Jasper Jay left Brownie Beaver, on that day when Jasper told Brownie that the photographer had made a flashlight picture of him, Brownie could hardly wait for it to grow dark. He had made up his mind that he would go back to that same tree, which was still not quite gnawed through; and he hoped that he would succeed in having his picture taken again. Like many other people, Brownie Beaver felt that he could not have too much of a good thing.
There was another reason, too, for his going back to the tree. If the light flared again and the click sounded in the bushes, Brownie intended to go right into the thicket and get his picture before anybody else could carry it away with him. (You can understand how little he understood about taking photographs.)
Well, the dark found Brownie back at the tree once more. And he began once more to gnaw at it. He tried to look pleasant, too, because he had heard that that was the way one should look when having his picture taken.
He found it rather difficult, gnawing chips out of the tree and smiling at the same time. But he was an earnest youngster and he did the best he could.
Brownie Beaver kept wishing the flashlight would go off, because—what with smiling and gnawing—his face began to ache. But no glare of light broke through the darkness.
It was not long before Brownie had gnawed away so many chips that the tree began to nod its head further and further toward the ground. And Brownie wished that the flash-light would hurry and go off before the tree fell.
But there was not even the faintest flicker of light. It was most annoying. And Brownie was so disappointed that for once he forgot to be careful when he was cutting down a tree. He kept his eyes on the bushes all the time, instead of on the tree—as he should have done. And all the time the tree leaned more and more.
At last there was asnap!Brownie Beaver should have known what that meant. But he was so eager to have his picture taken that he mistook thesnapfor theclickthat he had first heard almost a week before.
He thought it must be the click of a camera hidden in the bushes. And he stood very still and looked extremely pleasant. Now, Brownie Beaver should have known better. But like most people, for once he made a mistake. What he really heard was the tree snapping. And before he could jump out of the way the tree came crashing down upon him and pinned him fast to the ground. He saw a flash of light, to be sure, and a good many stars. But all that only came from the knock on his head which the tree gave him.
When the tree crashed down upon Brownie Beaver and held him fast, it was some time before he came to his senses. Then he did not know, at first, where he was nor what had happened to him. But at last he remembered that he had been cutting down a tree not far from the pond and he saw that it must have fallen upon him.
Of course, the first thing that occurred to him was to call for help.But just as he opened his mouth to shout, another thought came intohis head.Perhaps some man might hear him—or a bear!And BrownieBeaver closed his mouth as quickly as he had opened it.
Then he tried to squirm from under the tree-trunk. But he couldn't move himself at all. Next he tried to push the tree away from him. But he couldn't move the tree either.
For a long while Brownie Beaver struggled, first at one impossible thing, and then at the other. And all the time the tree seemed to grow heavier and heavier.
Finally, Brownie stopped trying to get free and began to feel hungry.
You can see that he must have been worried, because there was the tree, with plenty of bark on it which he could eat. But he never noticed it for a long time.
At last, however, he happened to remember that in the beginning he had started to cut down that very tree so he could reach the bark and eat it.
Then Brownie Beaver had a good meal. And just as he finished eating, another thought came into his head.Why shouldn't he gnaw right through the tree?
Since there seemed to be no answer to that question, he began to gnaw big chips out of the wood. And in a surprisingly short time he had cut the tree apart just where it pressed upon him.
Then, of course, all he had to do was to get up and walk away.
When he reached the village he found that all his neighbors had been looking everywhere for him.
"That is," Grandaddy Beaver explained, "we looked everywhere except near the tree where you had that adventure a few nights ago. I said you wouldn't be there, for I advised you to keep away from that spot, as you will recall."
Now, Brownie Beaver said nothing more. He knew that it was an unheard-of thing for one of the Beaver family to be caught by a falling tree. To have everyone know what had happened to him would be a good deal like a disgrace.
But there are plenty of people who would think they had done something quite clever if they had gnawed through a tree with their teeth—though that was something that never once entered Brownie Beaver's head.
"Why don't you get some new clothes?"
It was Mr. Frog that asked the question; and he asked it of Brownie Beaver, who was at work on top of his house. Mr. Frog had been hiding among the lily-pads, watching Brownie. But Brownie hadn't noticed him until he stuck his head out of the water and spoke.
At first Mr. Frog's question made Brownie a bit peevish.
"What's the matter with my clothes?" he asked hotly.
"There's nothing the matter with them—nothing at all," said Mr. Frog—"except that they are not as becoming to you as they might be. Of course," he added, as he saw that Brownie Beaver was frowning, "you look handsome in them. But you've no idea how you'd look in clothes ofmymaking."
Brownie Beaver felt more agreeable as soon as Mr. Frog had told him what he meant.
"Doyoumake clothes?" he inquired.
"I'm a tailor," Mr. Frog replied. "And I've just opened a shop at the upper end of the pond."
"What's the matter with my tail?" Brownie snapped. He was angry again.
Then Mr. Frog explained that a tailor made suits.
"We've nothing to do withtails,"he said—"unless it's coat-tails."
"What about cattails?" Brownie asked. "You're pretty close to some right now. So you can hardly say you have nothing to do with them."
Mr. Frog smiled.
"I see you're a joker," he said. "And it really seems a pity," he went on, "that a bright young fellow like you shouldn't wear the finest clothes to be had anywhere. If you'll come to my shop I'll make you a suit such as you never saw before in all your life."
"I'll come!" Brownie Beaver promised. "I'll be there at sunset."
And he went. Mr. Frog was waiting for him, with a broad smile on his face. Any smile of his just had to be broad, because he had such a wide mouth.
"Come right in!" Mr. Frog said. "I'll measure you at once." So BrownieBeaver stepped inside Mr. Frog's shop to be measured for his new suit.
It was all over in a few minutes. Mr. Frog scratched some figures on a flat stone. And then he went into the back room of his shop.
He stayed there a long time. And when he came into the front part again he found Brownie Beaver still there.
"What are you waiting for?" Mr. Frog asked. He seemed surprised thatBrownie had not left.
"I'm waiting for my suit, of course," Brownie Beaver said.
"Oh! That won't be ready for three days," Mr. Frog told him. "I have to make it, you know."
Brownie thought that Mr. Frog must be a slow worker; and he told him as much.
But Mr. Frog did not agree with him.
"I'm very spry!" he claimed. "On the jump every minute!"
As Brownie started away, Mr. Frog called him back.
"I'd get a new hat if I were you," he suggested.
"What's the matter with this hat?" Brownie wanted to know. "It's a beaver hat—one my great-grandfather used to wear. It's been in our family a good many years and I'd hate to part with it."
"You needn't part with it," Mr. Frog said pleasantly. "Just don't wear it—that's all! For it won't look well with the clothes I'm going to make for you."
Then Brownie Beaver moved away once more. And again Mr. Frog stopped him.
"I'd buy a collar if I were you," he said.
"What's the matter with this neckerchief?" Brownie Beaver demanded."It belonged to my great-grandmother."
"Then I'd be careful of it if I were you," Mr. Frog told him. "And please get a stiff white collar to wear."
"Won't it get limp in the water?" Brownie asked, doubtfully.
"Get a celluloid one, of course," Mr. Frog replied. "That's the only kind of collar you ought to wear."
So Brownie Beaver left the tailor-shop. And he was feeling quite unhappy. He had always been satisfied with his clothes. But now he began to dislike everything he had on. And he could hardly wait for three day to pass, he was in such a hurry for Mr. Frog to finish his new suit.
Three days had passed. And as soon as he had finished his breakfast Brownie Beaver hastened to the tailor-shop of Mr. Frog, who had been making him a suit of clothes.
Much to Brownie's disappointment, he found that Mr. Frog's door was locked. But he sat down on the doorstep and waited a long time. And at last Mr. Frog appeared.
After bidding Brownie Beaver good-morning, Mr. Frog yawned widely, remarking that he had been out late the night before, "at a singing-party," he said. "What can I do for you?" he asked Brownie Beaver.
"You can let me have my new suit of clothes," Brownie told him.
"You must be mistaken," Mr. Frog replied. "I don't remember you. I'm not making any suit for you."
At that Brownie Beaver became much excited.
"Why—" he exclaimed—"I was here three days ago and you measured me…. Don't you know me now?" he asked.
"Sorry to say I don't," was Mr. Frog's answer.
Brownie Beaver was desperate. He had looked forward eagerly to having his new suit. And he wanted it at once.
"You advised me to get a new hat and a collar," Brownie reminded him.
Mr. Frog smiled.
"Ah! That's it!" he cried. "You're wearing them now; and it's no wonder I didn't recognize you. You look ten years younger."
Brownie Beaver was puzzled.
"I'm not ten yet," he said. "So if I look ten years younger, I must appear very young indeed."
"The new clothes will fix that," Mr. Frog assured him.
"But you just told me you were not making a suit for me," saidBrownie.
"Quite true, too!" answered Mr. Frog—"because it's all finished. So, of course, I'm not making it now."
They had stepped inside the shop. And Mr. Frog carefully took some garments off a peg and spread them before Brownie Beaver.
"There!" he said with an air of pride. "The finest suit you ever saw!"
"I'll slip it on," said Brownie.
"Oh! I wouldn't do that!" Mr. Frog told him. "You might stretch it."
But nothing could have kept Brownie Beaver out of his new suit. He scrambled into it quickly, while the tailor stood by with a worried look upon his face.
"The coat seems to be all right," Brownie remarked. "But there's something wrong with the trousers. I can't see my feet!" He bent over and gazed down where his feet ought to have been. But they had vanished. And an end of each trouser-leg trailed on the floor. "These trousers are too long!" Brownie declared.
"Then you stretched them, putting them on," Mr. Frog said. "I warned you, you know."
"I was very careful," Brownie said. "I'm sure it can't be that."
"Then your legs are too short," Mr. Frog told him glibly. "They look to me to bemuchshorter than they were when I measured you."
"My legs—" Brownie Beaver exclaimed—"my legs are exactly the same length they were three days ago! You've made a mistake, Mr. Frog. That's what's the matter with these trousers!"
But Mr. Frog shook his head.
"I made them according to your measurements," he insisted.
"Let me see your figures!" Brownie Beaver cried.
But Mr. Frog shook his head again.
"I don't do business that way," he explained. "As soon as I've finished a suit I throw away the stone on which I've written the measurements. It saves trouble, if there's any complaint afterwards."
"Well!" said Brownie. "What can we do about this? I can't wear the trousers as they are."
"You'll have to get your legs stretched," Mr. Frog told him. "Just tie a stone to each foot and wear the trousers for a few days. As soon as you see your feet, take off the stones…. It's simple enough." He helped tie some heavy stones to Brownie's feet. And then Brownie swam away.
Now, swimming with your feet weighted like that is no easy matter. But Brownie managed to reach home. He stayed there, too, for the rest of the day, because it was hard for him to move about. And since he had nothing else to do, he went to sleep.
When he awoke, about an hour before sunset, he couldn't think at first what made his feet feel so heavy. He thought he must be ill—until he remembered about the stones being tied to his feet.
Then he looked down. And to his great surprise and joy there were his feet sticking out of his trousers, just as they ought to stick out!
Brownie untied the stones. He had not supposed his legs would stretch so quickly as that. And he told himself that Mr. Frog was a good tailor. He certainly knew his business. Now, as a matter of fact, Mr. Frog was a very careless person. He had thrown away Brownie's measurementsbeforehe made his clothes, instead ofafterwards. And he had made the new suit entirely by guesswork. It was only natural that he would make some mistake; and so he had cut the trousers entirely too long.
When he discovered that, he wanted to get Brownie out of his shop. And what happened next was simply this: After Brownie's trousers were wet in the pond, they dried while he was sleeping. And while they were drying they were shrinking at the same time.
Though Brownie Beaver didn't know it, his legs had not stretched at all. They were exactly the same length they had always been.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Tale of Brownie Beaver, by Arthur Scott Bailey