Mouse and the tree
21: A Cold Dip
Inone way Peter Mink was like Master Meadow Mouse. He enjoyed swimming. And he spent a great deal of his time along the streams that threaded their way through Pleasant Valley. Sometimes Peter dawdled on the banks of Swift River. Sometimes he lingered for days in the neighborhood of Black Creek. Nor did he disdain so small a stream as the brook that crossed the meadow. It was deep enough for a swim. And he knew that muskrats lived under its banks. While as for meadow mice—well, Peter Mink had surprised many a one swimming in the brook. If it hadn't been for the meadow mice perhaps he wouldn't have visited the brook so often.
Even in winter Master Meadow Mouse justhadto have his cold dip now and then. So he ran one of his many snow tunnels to the brook, making a little opening that led under the ice, where the water had fallen away and left a cavern. Just because there was skating for Johnnie Green on top of the brook it mustn't be supposed that Master Meadow Mouse wasn't going to have a swim when he wanted one.
When Peter Mink wandered along a stream in winter he preferred to travel under the ice, rather than walk upon the upper side of it. It made little difference to him whether there was a dry strip along the edge of the stream, where he could steal silently along without wetting hisfeet. When he found no place to walk, he swam.
Now, Master Meadow Mouse was well aware of this trick of Peter Mink's—this trick of lurking beneath the ice of river, creek and brook. But Master Meadow Mousewouldhave his cold dip now and then despite Peter Mink and his prowling ways.
To be sure, Master Meadow Mouse tried to be careful. Before he crept from the end of his tunnel, he stuck his head out and looked up and down and all around. He peeped under the bank of the brook. He even stared into the water. And then—if he saw nobody that was fiercer than Paddy Muskrat—only then would he venture to skip to the water's edge and plunge in.
To tell the truth, Master Meadow Mouse always felt safer when one of theMuskrat family happened to be taking a swim at the same time. For the Muskrats all had a warning signal that told everybody when there was danger. When one of them caught sight of Peter Mink he never failed—if he was in the water—to give a loud slap upon the surface with his tail.
Master Meadow Mouse always had one ear that was listening for that slap. And when it sounded he never waited an instant, but darted into his tunnel without even stopping to shake the water off his coat. He said that he could dry his coat after he reached home; while if he stopped to dry it at the edge of the brook perhaps he'd never get home at all.
You might think that now and then he would have said to himself, "Oh, I won't bother to look for Peter Mink to-day. He must be miles away. I'll step right outof my tunnel and have my swim without taking a look-see first." But Master Meadow Mouse was never so lazy as that. And the day came at last when it was well worth his while to take the little extra trouble of peeping out before he had his swim.
For Master Meadow Mouse caught a glimpse of a snakelike head that darted out from under the bank of the brook and darted back again, out of sight. He knew that that queer head belonged to Peter Mink, and to nobody else.
Mouse diving
22: Fishing for Mice
Master Meadow Mousepeeped out of the end of his tunnel and gave a faint squeak. As he watched, he saw Peter Mink's head, on its long neck, flash out from beneath the overhanging bank of the brook.
"What are you doing up there?" Master Meadow Mouse called.
"Fishing!" said Peter Mink promptly.
"Aren't you a long way from the water?" Master Meadow Mouse inquired.
"With a pole, one doesn't need to stand right at the water's edge," said Peter Mink.
"But you haven't a pole," MasterMeadow Mouse pointed out. "At least, I can't see that you have one."
Peter was greatly surprised—or seemed to be.
"I declare!" he said. "I forgot to bring my pole with me. And if you hadn't reminded me of it I shouldn't have known what was the trouble. I was wondering why I didn't get any bites." As he spoke he slid down the lower part of the bank and stretched himself like a cat. But all the time he was looking at Master Meadow Mouse out of the corner of his eye. "What areyoudoing here?" Peter Mink asked pleasantly.
"I came to take a swim," Master Meadow Mouse explained.
"Have you had it?"
"Not yet!" Master Meadow Mouse told him. "And I believe I'll wait till to-morrow."
"The water's fine to-day," said Peter Mink. "I've been in and out of it forty times."
But Master Meadow Mouse wasn't to be persuaded so easily.
"I might spoil your fishing if I went in now," he remarked.
"I don't care if you do," said Peter Mink. "The pleasure of seeing you enjoy a swim would more than repay me for the loss of the biggest fish in this brook."
Now, such speeches sounded very strange, coming from the mouth of a surly rascal like Peter Mink, who was never known to do anybody a good turn. Master Meadow Mouse pondered over this last statement. There seemed to be a catch in it somewhere. And he decided, finally, that he had discovered it.
"I didn't know there were any fish in this brook worth catching," he piped."They say there were trout here once. But now there's nothing bigger than a minnow."
Peter Mink nodded. "That's the truth," he said. "If this brook has a fish that's as meaty as you are, I've never seen him."
"Ah!" cried Master Meadow Mouse. "You'd far rather catch me than catch a fish in this pool."
Peter Mink grinned at him brazenly.
"I won't deny it," he replied.
"But you tried to deceive me," Master Meadow Mouse told him. "You said—when I asked you what you were doing here—you said that you were fishing."
"So I was!" Peter Mink exclaimed with a horrid chuckle. "I was fishing for mice. And if you'd been a little less careful I'd have caught one, too."
"Good day!" said Master MeadowMouse. "Good day and good-by!"
"Don't say good-by!" Peter Mink corrected. "Say, 'Till we meet again!'"
But Master Meadow Mouse had already pulled his head out of sight and vanished inside his tunnel.
Mouse fishing
23: Moving Day
Master Meadow Mousehad a great-uncle who was known as Uncle Billy. He was the oldest of all the members of the Meadow Mouse family that lived under the snow near the brook. Hobbling along through one of the tunnels beneath the seven crusts of snow he happened to meet Master Meadow Mouse as he was returning from his talk with Peter Mink.
"I just saw Peter Mink at the brook!" Master Meadow Mouse called.
"Ha!" Uncle Billy snorted. "The question is, did he see you?"
"He did," Master Meadow Mouse answered with no little pride, for he felt quite important. "He not only saw me. He talked with me."
"Ha!" Uncle Billy snorted again. "Then this is moving day."
"Why, it's not the first of May, is it?" Master Meadow Mouse cried.
"Hardly!" said Uncle Billy, with something like a sniff. "It's not Ground Hog Day yet; and that's only the second of February."
"Then why should anybody move, right in the middle of winter?" Master Meadow Mouse wanted to know.
"Because—" Uncle Billy declared hotly—"because somebody has gone and let Peter Mink know where we're spending the winter. And it's not safe for us to stay here any longer."
Master Meadow Mouse couldn't help feeling guilty. Still, he hoped he hadn'tmade as great a mistake as Uncle Billy would have him believe.
"I've heard," he ventured, "that Peter Mink can squeeze through any hole that's big enough for his head. But surely he couldn't get even his flat head into one of our passages."
"He can burrow in the snow!" Uncle Billy snapped. "He can and he will. He'll come sniffing and listening all around here. And when he finds a likely spot to dig, down he'll go through drifts and crusts until he reaches the stubble." Uncle Billy shook his head and drew a long breath. "Young man," he said, "you've got us into a peck of trouble. This whole village has to move. Don't let it happen again!"
By that time others of the villagers had gathered round and heard the news. Of course the news spread fast. And in asurprisingly short while the Meadow Mouse family was on its way to the mill pond.
Everybody set to work—everybody except Uncle Billy Meadow Mouse. He was busy telling all the rest what to do, though he didn't help half as much as he thought he did.
But every one was polite to him, for he was the oldest Meadow Mouse on the farm.
It wasn't long before they had everything snug again. And as for Master Meadow Mouse, he was actually glad that he had made the whole village move. For Paddy Muskrat lived in the mill pond. He spent all his time there when he wasn't taking excursions up the brook. And Master Meadow Mouse found him the best of company.
Especially did Master Meadow Mouselike to hear Paddy Muskrat slap his tail upon the water, when he gave the danger signal.
Mouse moving
24: Master or Mister?
Living, as he did, near the mill pond, Master Meadow Mouse saw a great deal of Paddy Muskrat. They had a number of tastes in common. They both liked lily bulbs. They both enjoyed swimming. They both disliked Peter Mink. They were bound to become great cronies—if for no other reason than the last.
By spring Paddy Muskrat knew Master Meadow Mouse well enough to ask him a very intimate question.
"Why does everybody call you 'Master'?" he inquired one day.
Master Meadow Mouse looked at him ina puzzled fashion for a moment or two.
"I don't know," he answered. "I don't know why, unless it's because theyalways havecalled me that. Don't you think it's a good name?" he asked Paddy Muskrat a bit anxiously.
"Oh, yes!" Paddy assured him. "There's no doubt that it's a good enough name. But it's one that's given to a youngster—to a mere child."
"I'm not a youngster!" Master Meadow Mouse cried. "Nobody can call meyoung. I'm almost a year old!"
"I thought so," said Paddy Muskrat, as if he knew he couldn't have been mistaken. "You're grown up. And yet they still call you 'Master' Meadow Mouse. If I were you I'd get folks to change that."
It was plain that Master Meadow Mouse agreed with him in every way. He hadalready made up his mind that he wouldn't answer to the name of 'Master' Meadow Mouse any longer. And he told Paddy Muskrat as much.
"If they want me to answer after this, they'll have to call me something else," he declared. "Now, what would you suggest?"
Paddy Muskrat said he needed time to think the matter over. And he thought that he'd like to consult his wife, who always had an opinion.
"Wait here till I come back!" he told Master Meadow Mouse. And, diving into the water, he swam home. He was back in a few minutes, with a broad smile upon his face. "I've thought of the very thing!" he exclaimed. "Or, at least, my wife has. She says, 'Call him "Mister," of course'!"
"That's fine!" cried Master MeadowMouse. "I'm sure I couldn't have thought of that if I'd tried all summer. And now," he added, "I must go and tell everybody about this sudden change."
So he hurried home. And, calling everybody around him, he explained that he was a year old, and that he had successfully dodged Miss Kitty Cat, Tommy Fox, Solomon Owl, Ferdinand Frog, Peter Mink, Old Mr. Crow and goodness only knew how many other dangerous folk.
"I'm grown up now," he told his hearers. "From this time on I expect everybody to call meMisterMeadow Mouse."
And everybody said that a new name was no more than he deserved. They all approved his choice.
No! There was just one among all the company that was opposed to the change. He snorted and started to say somethingdisagreeable. And for once everybody told Uncle Billy (for it was he!) to be quiet.
And that was the end of Master Meadow Mouse.
THE END
Endpapers
Transcriber's Notes:The only correction made is indicated by a dotted lines under the word. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text willappear.
The only correction made is indicated by a dotted lines under the word. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text willappear.