Wandering through the woods one day, Fatty Coon's bright eyes caught a strange gleam from something—something that shone and glittered out of the green. Fatty wanted to see what it was, though he hardly thought it was anything to eat. But whenever he came upon something new he always wanted to examine it. So now Fatty hurried to see what the strange thing was.
It was the oddest thing he had ever found—flat, round, and silvery; and it hung in the air, under a tree, just over Fatty's head. Fatty Coon looked carefully at the bright thing. He walked all around it, so he could see it from all sides. And at last he thought he knew what it was. He made up his mind that it was the moon!
He had often seen the moon up in the sky; and here it was, just the same size exactly, hanging so low that he could have reached it with his paw. He saw nothing strange in that; for he knew that the moon often touched the earth. Had he not seen it many a time, resting on the side of Blue Mountain? One night he had asked his mother if he might go up on the mountain to play with the moon; but she had only laughed. And here, at last, was the moon come to him! Fatty was so excited that he ran home as fast as he could go, to tell his mother, and his brother Blackie, and Fluffy and Cutey, his sisters.
"Oh! the moon! the moon!" Fatty shouted. He had run so fast that, being so plump, he was quite out of breath. And that was all he could say.
"Well, well! What about the moon!" Mrs. Coon asked. "Anybody would think you had found it, almost." And she smiled.
Fatty puffed and gasped. And at last he caught his breath again.
"Yes—I've found it! It's over in the woods—just a little way from here!" he said. "Big, and round, and shiny! Let's all go and bring it home!"
"Well, well, well!" Mrs. Coon was puzzled. She had never heard of the moon being found in those woods; and she hardly knew what to think. "Are you sure?" she asked.
"Oh, yes, Mother!" Fatty could hardly wait, he was so eager to lead the way. And with many a shake of the head, Mrs. Coon, with her family, started off to see the moon.
"There!" Fatty cried, as they came in sight of the bright, round thing."There it is—just as I told you!" And they all set up a great shouting.
All but Mrs. Coon. She wasn't quite sure, even yet, that Fatty had really found the moon. And she walked close to the shining thing and peered at it. But not too close! Mrs. Coon didn't go too near it. And she told her children quite sternly to stand back. It was well that she did; for when Mrs. Coon took her eyes off Fatty's moon and looked at the ground beneath it—well! she jumped back so quickly that she knocked two of her children flat on the ground.
A trap! THAT was what Mrs. Coon saw right in front of her. And Farmer Green, or his boy, or whoever it was that set the trap, had hung that bright piece of TIN over the trap hoping that one of her family would see it and play with it—and fall into the trap. Yes—it was a mercy that Fatty hadn't begun knocking it about. For if he had he would have stepped right into the trap and it would have shut—SNAP! Just like that. And there he would have been, caught fast.
It was no wonder that Mrs. Coon hurried her family away from that spot. And Fatty led them all home again. He couldn't get away from his moon fast enough.
Fatty Coon was frightened; he had just waked up and he heard a sound that was exactly like the noise Farmer Green and his hired man had made when they cut down the tall chestnut tree where he was perched.
"Oh, Mother! What is it?" he cried.
"The loggers have come," Mrs. Coon said. "They are cutting down all the big trees in the swamp."
"Then we'll have to move, won't we?" Fatty asked.
"No! They won't touch this tree," his mother told him. "It's an old tree, and hollow—so they won't chop it down. It's only the good sound trees that they'll take."
"But I thought this was a good tree." Fatty was puzzled.
"So it is, my son! It's a good tree for us. But not for the loggers.They would have little use for it."
Fatty Coon felt better when he heard that. And he had a good deal of fun, peeping down at the loggers and watching them work. But he took care that they should not see HIM. He knew what their bright axes could do.
When night came Fatty had still more fun. When the loggers were asleep Fatty went to their camp in the woods beside the brook and he found many good things to eat. He did not know the names of all the goodies; but he ate them just the same. He 'specially liked some potatoes which the careless cook had left in a pan near the open camp-fire. The fire was out. And the pan rested on a stump close beside it. Fatty Coon climbed up and crawled right inside the pan. And after he had had one taste of those potatoes he grew so excited—they were so good—that he tipped the pan off the stump and the potatoes rolled right into the ashes.
Fatty had jumped to one side, when the tin pan fell. It made a great clatter; and he kept very still for a few moments, while he listened. But no one stirred. And then Fatty jumped plump into the ashes.
WHEW! He jumped out again as fast as he could; for beneath the ashes there were plenty of hot coals. Fatty stood in them for not more than three seconds, but that was quite long enough. The bottoms of his feet burned as if a hundred hornets had stung them.
He stood first on one foot and then on another. If you could have seen him you would have thought Fatty was dancing. And you might have laughed, because he looked funny.
But Fatty Coon did not laugh. In fact, he came very near crying. And he did not wait to eat another mouthful. He limped along toward home. And it was several days before he stirred out of his mother's house again. He just lay in his bed and waited until his burns were well again.
It was very hard. For Fatty did not like to think of all those good things to eat that he was missing. And he hoped the loggers would not go away before his feet were well again.
When Fatty Coon's burned feet were well once more, the very first night he left his mother's house he went straight to the loggers' camp. He did not wait long after dark, because he was afraid that some of his neighbors might have found that there were good things to eat about the camp. And Fatty wanted them all.
To his delight, there were goodies almost without end. He nosed about, picking up potato peelings, and bits of bacon. And perhaps the best of all was a piece of cornbread, which Fatty fairly gobbled. And then he found a box half-full of something—scraps that tasted like apples, only they were not round like apples, and they were quite dry, instead of being juicy. But Fatty liked them; and he ate them all, down to the smallest bit.
He was thirsty, then. So he went down to the brook, which ran close by the camp. The loggers had cut a hole through the ice, so they could get water. And Fatty crept close to the edge of the hole and drank. He drank a great deal of water, because he was very thirsty. And when he had finished he sat down on the ice for a time. He did not care to stir about just then. And he did not think he would ever want anything to eat again.
At last Fatty Coon rose to his feet. He felt very queer. There was a strange, tight feeling about his stomach. And his sides were no longer thin. They stuck out just as they had before winter came—only more so. And what alarmed Fatty was this: his sides seemed to be sticking out more and more all the time.
He wondered what he had been eating. Those dry things that tasted like apples—he wondered what they were.
Now, there was some printing on the outside of the box which held those queer, spongy, flat things. Of course, Fatty Coon could not read, so the printing did him no good at all. But if you had seen the box, and if you are old enough to read, you would have known that the printing said:
Now, evaporated apples are nothing more or less than dried apples. The cook of the loggers' camp used them to make apple pies. And first, before making his pies, he always soaked them in water so they would swell.
Now you see what made Fatty Coon feel so queer and uncomfortable. He had first eaten his dried apples. And then he had soaked them, by drinking out of the brook. It was no wonder that his sides stuck out, for the apples that he had bolted were swelling and puffing him out until he felt that he should burst. In fact, the wonder of it was that he was able to get through his mother's doorway, when he reached home.
But he did it, though it cost him a few groans. And he frightened his mother, too.
"I only hope you're not poisoned," she said, when Fatty told her what he had been doing.
And that remark frightened Fatty more than ever. He was sure he was never going to feel any better.
Poor Mrs. Coon was much worried all the rest of the night. But when morning came she knew that Fatty was out of danger. She knew it because of something he said. It was this:
"Oh, dear! I wish I had something to eat!"
One fine winter's day Fatty Coon came upon the queerest tracks in the snow. They were huge—a great deal bigger, even, than bear-tracks, which Fatty had sometimes seen, for once in a while, before the weather grew too cold, and he fell into his winter's sleep, a bear would come down into the valley from his home on Blue Mountain.
But these were six times as big as bear tracks. And Fatty felt a shiver of fear run up and down his back.
He followed the trail a little way. But he was very careful. He was always ready to scramble up a tree, in case he should suddenly see the strange animal—or rather, in case the strange animal should see HIM.
The great tracks led straight toward Farmer Green's house. And Fatty did not want to go there. So he hurried home to ask his mother what he had found. Mrs. Coon listened to Fatty's story.
"I think it must be the monster that almost caught me in the road last summer," said Fatty, meaning the automobile that had given him a great fright. "Maybe he's come back again to catch Farmer Green and his family … Do you suppose he's eaten them up?"
Mrs. Coon was puzzled. And she was somewhat alarmed, too. She wanted to see those strange tracks herself. So she told her other children not to step a foot out of the house until she came back. And then she asked Fatty to run along and show her where he had come upon the monster's trail.
Fatty Coon felt very important, as he led the way across the swamp and into the woods. It was not often that he could show his mother anything. And he was so proud that he almost forgot his fright.
"I guess you're glad I have sharp eyes," he said, as they hurried along.
"If the tracks are as big as you say they are, your eyes wouldn't have to be very sharp to see them," his mother told him. Mrs. Coon never liked to hear her children boast. She knew that boasting is one of the most unpleasant things anyone can do.
"Well—maybe you don't think I saw the monster's tracks at all," saidFatty. "Maybe you don't think I heard him screech—"
"When did you hear him screech?" Mrs. Coon asked. "This is the first you've said about SCREECHING. When was it?"
"Last summer," Fatty answered.
Mrs. Coon didn't smile. Perhaps she was too worried for that.
"It may not be the same monster," she said. "It may not be a monster at all."
But by this time Fatty was sure he was right. He was sure he knew more than his mother.
"Why can't we go right over to Farmer Green's and take some of his chickens?" he asked. "The monster has probably eaten him by this time, and all his family, too."
But Mrs. Coon would do no such thing.
"Show me the tracks," she said firmly. And so they went on into the woods.
"There they are!" Fatty cried, a few minutes later. "See, Mother! They're even bigger than I said." He heard a funny noise behind him, then. And when Fatty Coon looked around he saw that his mother was actually holding her sides, she was laughing so hard.
"Those are Farmer Green's tracks," she said, as soon as she could stop laughing long enough to speak.
"What—as big as that?" Fatty pointed at the huge prints in the snow.
"Snowshoes!" Mrs. Coon said. "He was wearing snowshoes—great frames made of thongs and sticks, to keep him from sinking into the snow."
So that was all there was to Fatty's monster. Somehow, he was disappointed. But he was very glad he had said nothing to Jasper Jay about his strange animal. For if he had, he knew he would never have heard the last of it.
And Fatty was glad about another thing, too. He felt very happy that his mother had not let him go after Farmer Green's chickens.