Chapter II: Part 2

"Well," Mr. Rabbit continued, "Mr. Wolf kept on playing the fiddle, but Mr. Billy-Goat didn't dance. Not only that, he kept so near the edge of the porch that the rain drifted in on his horns and ran down his long beard. But he kept his eye on Mr. Wolf. After playing the fiddle till he was tired, Mr. Wolf asked:--

"'How do you get your meat, my young friends?'

"Mr. Dog said he depended on his teeth, and Mr. Billy-Goat, thinking to be on the safe side, said he also depended upon his teeth.

"'As for me,' cried Mr. Wolf, 'I depend on my feet!' and with that he dropped his fiddle and jumped at Mr. Billy-Goat. But he knocked the broom down and the handle tripped him. It was all very sudden, but by the time Mr. Wolf had recovered himself Mr. Billy-Goat and Mr. Dog had gone a considerable distance.

"They ran and ran until they came to a big creek. Mr. Billy-Goat asked Mr. Dog how he was going to get across.

"'Swim,' said Mr. Dog.

"'Then I'll have to bid you good-by,' replied Mr. Billy-Goat, 'for I can't swim a stroke.'

"By this time they had arrived at the bank of the creek, and they could hear Mr. Wolf coming through the woods. They had no time to lose. Mr. Dog looked around on the ground, gathered some jan-weed, yan-weed, and tan-weed, rubbed them together, and squeezed a drop of the juice on Mr. Billy-Goat's horns. He had no sooner done this than Mr. Billy-Goat was changed into a white rock.

"Then Mr. Dog leaped into the creek and swam across. Mr. Wolf ran to the bank, but there he stopped. The water was so wide it made tears come in his eyes; so deep that it made his legs ache; and so cold that it made his body shiver.

"When Mr. Dog arrived safely on the other side he cried out, 'Aha! you are afraid! You've drowned poor Mr. Billy-Goat, but you are afraid of me. I dare you to fling a rock at me!'

"This made Mr. Wolf so mad that he seized the white rock and threw it at Mr. Dog with all his might. It fell near Mr. Dog, and instantly became Mr. Billy-Goat again. But in falling a piece was broken off, and it happened to be Mr. Billy-Goat's tail. Ever since then he has had a very short tail."

"Were you there, Mr. Rabbit?" asked Sweetest Susan bluntly.

"I was fishing at the time," replied Mr. Rabbit. "I heard the noise they made, and I turned around and saw it just as I've told you."

Drusilla touched Buster John on the arm. "We ain't dreamin', is we, honey?"

Buster John looked at her scornfully. "What put that in your head?" he asked.

"Suppose the rock had hit Mr. Dog?" suggested Sweetest Susan.

THE PUMPKIN-EATER.

"Now, that's so!" exclaimed Mr. Thimblefinger. "And it reminds me of a little accident that happened in my mother's family. But it's hardly worth telling."

"Well, tell it, anyhow," said Mrs. Meadows.

"Yes," remarked Mr. Rabbit, "the proof of the pudding is in chewing the bag."

"Well," said Mr. Thimblefinger, "as far back as I can remember, and before that, too, my mother was a widow, and she had a great many children to take care of. The reason she had so many children was because she was poor. I have noticed all my life that when people are very poor they happen to have more children than they know what to do with. This was the way with my mother. She had a houseful of children, and she found it a hard matter to get along.

"One day she went down to the creek to wash the clothes, such as she and the children had, and when she got there she found an old man sitting on the bank. He said, 'Howdy,' and she said, 'Good-morning,' and then he asked her if she would be so good as to wash his coat and his waistcoat. She said she would be glad to do so, and the old man said he would be very much obliged. So my mother washed the coat and waistcoat. Then he asked her if she would comb his hair for him, and she did so.

"The old man thanked her kindly, and took from his pocket a string of red beads and made her a present of them. Then he told her to go out behind the house when she got home, and there she'd find a pumpkin-tree growing. He said that she must bury the string of beads at the foot of the tree.

"'That's a pity,' exclaimed my mother; 'they are so beautiful.'

"But the old man declared that she must do as he said, and after that she was to go to the pumpkin-tree every day and ask for as many pumpkins as she wanted.

"My mother went home and found the pumpkin-tree where never a tree had been growing before, and at its roots she buried the string of beads. Next morning, bright and early, she went to the pumpkin-tree and called for one pumpkin. Down it dropped from the tree. For a long time my mother and her children were happy and growing fat. Every day a big pumpkin would be cooked, and as my mother had to leave us so as to attend to her work, enough pumpkin would be left in the pot to last us all day.

"I remember that time very well," Mr. Thimblefinger continued, with a sigh, "for I was getting fat and growing to be almost as large as the rest of the children. But one day, as my mother was going out to work she found a hamper basket on the gate-post, and in that basket was a baby. So she carried the baby in the house, gave it something to eat, and then put it on the floor to play with the rest. But as soon as she got out of the yard the baby crawled to the pot where the cooked pumpkin was, and ate and ate until there was no pumpkin left. Of course, the rest of the children had to go hungry. And when my mother came home she had to go hungry, too.

"She was very much surprised. She found all the pumpkin gone and the children crying for something to eat, and the stray baby was crying louder than any. She said we were the greediest children she had ever seen.

"The next day she cooked two pumpkins, but the same thing happened. The baby went to the pot and ate both. The children told her how it happened, but she wouldn't believe them. She said she couldn't be made to believe that one puny little baby could eat two whole pumpkins--and it _is_ very queer, when you come to think about it.

"The next day she cooked three pumpkins, but the same thing happened. Then four, then five, then six. But it was always the same. No matter how many pumpkins were cooked, the stray baby would eat them all, and the rest of the children would have to go hungry. You see how small I am," said Mr. Thimblefinger, suddenly pausing in the thread of his story. "Well, the reason of it is that I was starved out by that pumpkin-eating baby. My brothers and sisters and myself were just as large and as healthy as any other children until that baby was found on the gate-post, and from that day we began to dwindle and shrink away.

"Well, we starved and starved until at last my mother could very plainly see that something was the matter. So she set a trap for the baby and baited it with pumpkins. She hadn't got out of hearing before the baby put his head in the pot and got caught in the trap. It stayed there all day, and when mother came home at night she found it there. She was very much surprised, but she saw she must get rid of the baby. She said that any creature that could manage to eat like that was able to take care of itself, and so she carried it off down the road and left it there.

"Now this Pumpkin-Eater was a witch baby, and as soon as it thought my mother was out of sight and hearing it changed itself into a tall, heavy man."

"'T wuz feedin' de big man all de time," exclaimed Drusilla.

"Certainly," replied Mr. Thimblefinger. "My mother was watching it, and she followed to see where it would go. It went down to the bank of the river. There it found the old man who had given my mother the string of beads, and asked him for something to eat.

"'Comb my hair for me,' said the old man.

"But it refused, and then the old man told it to go to the pumpkin-tree and ask for twenty pumpkins. The greedy thing was glad to do this. It went to the tree and called for twenty pumpkins, and down they fell on its head."

"What then?" asked Buster John, as Mr. Thimblefinger paused. "Was it hurt?"

"Smashed!" exclaimed Mr. Thimblefinger. "Knocked flatter than a pancake! Broke into jiblets!"

"It was a great waste of pumpkins," remarked Mrs. Meadows.

V.

THE TALKING-SADDLE.

Just then Mrs. Meadows smoothed out her apron and rose from her chair.

"I smell dinner," she said, "and it smells like it is on the table. Let's go in and get rid of it."

She led the way, and the children followed. The dinner was nothing extra,--just a plain, every-day, country dinner, with plenty of pot-liquor and dumplings; but the children were hungry, and they made short work of all that was placed before them. Drusilla waited on the table, as she did at home, but she didn't go close to Mr. Rabbit. She held out the dishes at arm's length when she offered him anything, and once she came very near dropping a plate when he suddenly flapped his big ear on his nose to drive off a fly.

Mrs. Meadows was very kind to the children, but when once the edge was taken off their appetite they began to get uneasy again. There were a thousand questions they might have asked, but they had been told never to ask questions in company. Mr. Thimblefinger, who had a keen eye for such things, noticed that they were beginning to get glum and dissatisfied, and so he said with a laugh:--

"I've often heard in my travels of children who talked too much, but these don't talk at all."

"Oh, they'll soon get over that," Mrs. Meadows remarked. "Everything is so strange here, they don't know what to make of it. When I was a little bit of a thing my ma used to take me to quiltings, and I know it took me the longest kind of a time to get used to the strangers and all."

"This isn't a quilting," said Sweetest Susan, with a sigh; "I wish it was."

"I don't!" exclaimed Buster John plumply.

"Once when I was listening through a keyhole," said Mr. Thimblefinger, placing his tiny knife and fork crosswise on his plate, "I heard a story about a Talking-Saddle."

"Tell it! tell it!" cried Buster John and Sweetest Susan.

"I suppose you have no pie to-day?" said Mr. Rabbit.

"Oh, yes," said Mrs. Meadows, "we'll have the pie and the story, too."

Mr. Thimblefinger smacked his lips and winked his eye in such comical fashion that the children laughed heartily, but they didn't forget the story.

"I don't know that I can remember the best of it," said Mr. Thimblefinger. "The wind was blowing and the keyhole was trying to learn how to whistle, and I may have missed some of the story. But it was such a queer one, and I was listening so closely, that I came very near falling off the door-knob when some one started to come out. I think we'd better eat our pie first. I might get one of those huckleberries in my throat while talking, and there's no doctor close at hand to keep me from choking to death."

So they ate their huckleberry-pie, and then Mr. Thimblefinger told the story.

"Once upon a time a farmer had five sons. He was not rich and he was not poor. He had some land, and he had a little money. He divided his land equally among his four oldest sons, giving each just as much as he could till. To each, he also gave a piece of money. Then he called his youngest son, and said:--

"'You have sharp eyes and a keen wit. You want no land. All you need is a saddle. That I will give you.'

"'A saddle! What will I do with a saddle?' asked the youngest son, whose name was Tip-Top.

"'Make your fortune with it.'

"'If I had a horse--'

"'A head is better than a horse,' the father replied.

"Not long after, the old man died. The land was divided up among the four older sons, and Tip-Top was left with the saddle. He slung it on his back and set out to make his fortune. It was not long before he came to a large town. He rested for a while and then he went into the town. He remembered that his father had said a head was better than a horse, so, instead of carrying the saddle on his back, he put it on his head. At first the people thought he was carrying the saddle because he had sold his horse for a good price, or because the animal had died. But he went through street after street still carrying the saddle on his head, never pausing to look around or to speak to anybody, and at last the people began to wonder. Some said he was a simpleton, some said he was a saddle-maker advertising his wares, and some said he was a tramp who ought to be arrested and put in the workhouse.

"This talk finally reached the ears of the Mayor of the town, and he sent for Tip-Top to appear before him."

"What is a Mayor?" asked Sweetest Susan suddenly.

"He de head patter-roller," said Drusilla, before anybody else could reply.

"That's about right," Mr. Thimblefinger declared. "Well, the Mayor sent for Tip-Top. But instead of going to the place where the Mayor held his court, Tip-Top inquired where his house was and went there. Now, when Tip-Top knocked at the Mayor's door the servant, seeing the man with a saddle on his head, began to scold him.

"'Do you think the Mayor keeps his harness in the parlor? Go in the side gate and carry the saddle in the cellar where it belongs. Hang it on the first peg you see.'

"Tip-Top tried to say something, but the servant shut the door with a bang. Then Tip-Top did as he was bid. He went through the side gate, and found the cellar without any trouble, but instead of hanging the saddle on a peg, he placed it on the floor and sat on it.

"After waiting patiently a while, wondering when the Mayor would call him, Tip-Top heard voices on the other side of the wall. He listened closely, and soon found that the housemaid who had driven him away from the Mayor's door was talking to her brother, who had just returned from a long journey.

"'The Mayor has gold,' said the brother. 'You must tell me where he keeps it. I have a companion in my travels, and to-night we shall come and take the treasure.'

"For a long time the housemaid refused to tell where the Mayor kept his gold, but the brother threatened and coaxed, and finally she told him where the treasure lay.

"'It is in a closet by the chimney in the first room to the right at the head of the stairs. The gold is in an iron box and it is very heavy.'

"'My companion has long hair and a strong arm,' said the brother. 'He is cross-eyed and knock-kneed. It wouldn't do for you to meet him in the hallway. Go to bed early and lock your door, and if you hear any outcry during the night cover your head with a pillow and go to sleep again.'

"Then the housemaid and her brother went away.

"'Well,' said Tip-Top, 'this is no place for me.'

"He waited a while, and then went out of the cellar into the yard with his saddle on his head. The cook, seeing him there, told him to carry the saddle to the stable where the horses were kept. Tip-Top went to the stable, placed his saddle in an empty stall, and sat on it.

"After a while he heard two persons come in from the street. They went into a stall near by and began to talk. One was the coachman and the other was his nephew, who had just returned from a long journey.

"'The Mayor has fine horses,' said the nephew. 'I must have two of them to-night, otherwise I am ruined forever.'

"The coachman refused to listen at first, but after a while he consented. He told his nephew that the stable-boy slept in the manger.

"'I have a companion in my travels,' said his nephew, 'and to-night we shall come and take the horses away. My companion has short hair and a heavy hand. Close your eyes and cover your head with straw if you hear any outcry.'

"After a while the coachman and his nephew went out into the street again, and then Tip-Top came forth from the stable with the saddle on his head. The Mayor had just come in, and was standing at his window. He saw the man in the yard with the saddle on his head, and sent a servant to call him.

"'What is your name?' asked the Mayor.

"'Tip-Top, your honor.'

"'I didn't ask after your health; I asked for your name,' said the Mayor.

"'It is Tip-Top, your honor.'

"'Your name or your health?'

"'Both, your honor.'

"'What are you doing here?'

"'His honor, the Mayor, sent for me, your honor.'

"'What were you doing just now?'

"'Waiting to be sent for, your honor.'

"'Where is your horse?' asked the Mayor.

"'I have no horse, your honor.'

"'Why do you carry your saddle?'

"'Because no one will carry it for me, your honor.'

"'Why do you not sell it and be rid of it, ninny?'

"'Few are rich enough to buy it, your honor.'

"'How much money is it worth?'

"'Two thousand pieces of gold, your honor.'

"'Are you crazy?' cried the Mayor. 'Why is it so valuable?'

"'It is a Talking-Saddle, your honor.'

"'What does it say?'

"'Everything, your honor. It warns, it predicts, and it gives advice.'

"'Let it talk for me,' said the Mayor, full of curiosity.

"'Your honor would fail to understand its language,' replied Tip-Top.

"'Let it talk and do you tell me what it says.'

"Tip-Top placed his saddle on the carpet and pressed his foot against it until the leather made a creaking noise.

"'I am waiting,' said the Mayor. 'What does the saddle say?'

"'It says, your honor, that you must call the housemaid.'

"The Mayor, to humor the joke, did so. The housemaid came, grumbling. She looked at the saddle, at Tip-Top, and then at the Mayor.

"'Now what does the saddle say?' asked the Mayor.

"'It says, your honor, that this woman has a brother, who has just returned from a journey in strange lands. The saddle says, your honor, that this woman's brother has a companion who has long hair and a strong arm.'

"'Is that all?' asked the Mayor.

"'No, your honor, it is not half.'

"'It is very strange,' said the housemaid.

"'The saddle says, your honor, that if you will sit in the closet by the chimney, in the first room to the right, where there is an iron box that is very heavy, you will receive a visit to-night from this woman's brother and his companion.'

"The Mayor was very much astonished, but before he could open his lips the woman fell on her knees and confessed all. The Mayor called an officer and sent her away. Then he turned to Tip-Top, and asked:--

"'Is that all?'

"'By no means, your honor. The saddle says send for the coachman.'

"The Mayor did so, and the coachman came, bowing and smiling.

"'How much is the saddle worth?' the Mayor asked him.

"'Master, it is worthless,' replied the coachman, with a sneer.

"'Let us see,' said the Mayor. Then, turning to Tip-Top: 'What does the saddle say?'

"'It says, your honor, that this coachman here has a nephew, who has just returned from a long journey. It says that the nephew has a companion who has short hair and a heavy hand.'

"'What more?'

"'The saddle says, your honor, that if you will sleep in the manger where your two finest horses feed, you will receive a visit from the coachman's nephew and his traveling companion.'

"The coachman implored his master's mercy, and told all. Of course, the Mayor was very much astonished. He turned his unfaithful servants over to an officer, and that night had a watch set around his house and stable, and caught the thieves and their companions."

"But the saddle didn't talk," said Sweetest Susan. "So the man didn't tell what was true." She made this remark with so much dignity that Mrs. Meadows laughed.

But Buster John was quite impatient.

"This isn't a girl's story," he exclaimed.

"Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Meadows. "It is for girls as well as boys. Sometimes people tell stories just to pass the time away, and if the stories have little fibs in 'em, that don't do anybody any harm, they just keep them in there. If they didn't, the story wouldn't be true."

"Is that the end of the story of the Talking-Saddle?" asked Buster John.

"No! Oh, no!" Mr. Thimblefinger answered. "I was just going to tell you the rest."

But before he could go on with it, the noise of laughter was heard at the door, and then there came running in a queer-looking girl and a very queer-looking boy.

VI.

THE TALKING-SADDLE AND THE THIEF.

The queer-looking girl was running from the very queer-looking boy, and both were laughing loudly. When they saw the children sitting at the table they both stopped suddenly. The queer-looking girl turned and made a wry face at the very queer-looking boy. At this both burst out laughing, and suddenly stopped again.

"Be ashamed of yourselves!" exclaimed old Mr. Rabbit, rapping on the floor with his cane. "Be ashamed! Where are your manners? Go and speak to our friends and make your best bow, too,--don't forget that!" Mr. Rabbit appeared to be very indignant.

Mrs. Meadows was in a better humor. "This," she said, as the queer-looking girl came forward, "is Chickamy Crany Crow, and this," as the very queer-looking boy came timidly up, "is Tickle-My-Toes."

They bowed, and then went off a little way, looking very solemn and comical. They didn't dare glance at each other for fear they would begin laughing again. The reason they looked so queer was because, although they acted like children, they were old in appearance,--as old as a person past middle age.

"They are country-raised, poor things! You'll have to excuse them. They don't know any better." Mr. Thimblefinger sighed as he said this, and looked thoughtful.

"What about the Talking-Saddle?" Buster John inquired. "You said the story wasn't finished."

"To be sure! To be sure!" Mr. Thimblefinger cried. "My mind is like a wagon without a tongue. It goes every way but the right way. Where was I? Oh, yes, I remember now."

"Well, the Mayor was very thankful to Tip-Top for saving his treasure and his horses, but he wasn't satisfied about the saddle. He was worried. Now, you know when a child is worried it cries, but when a grown man is worried he sits down and looks away off, and puts his elbow in his hand and his finger to his nose--so."

"Oh, I've seen papa do that," laughed Sweetest Susan.

"Yes, that's the way the Mayor did," Mr. Thimblefinger continued. "There was a great thief in that country who had never been caught. He didn't care for judges and juries and courthouses. He always sent the Mayor word when he was coming to the city and when he was going away.

"Now, the Mayor had received a letter from this man just the day before Tip-Top came. The thief said he was coming after a fine race-horse that was owned by the Mayor's brother. So the Mayor sat and thought, and finally he asked Tip-Top if his Talking-Saddle could catch a famous thief.

"'It has just caught four common rogues, your honor,' replied Tip-Top, 'and I think it can catch one uncommon thief.'

"Then the Mayor told Tip-Top that the most famous thief in all that country intended to steal his brother's race-horse. Tip-Top said he must see the horse, and together they went to the stable where it was kept. The horse was already guarded. Two servants sat in the stall, two sat outside, and two remained near the door. The Mayor's brother was also there.

"'What is this?' the brother asked.

"'This fellow wants to sell his saddle,' replied the Mayor.

"'Then arrest him,' cried the brother, 'for he is the thief.'

"'Nonsense,' replied the Mayor. 'He is a very honest man and I will vouch for him.'

"Then the Mayor called his brother aside and told him why the man with the saddle had come to see the horse.

"Tip-Top talked with the men who had been set to guard the horse, and he soon found that one of them was an accomplice of the thief. This man made a swift sign to Tip-Top, and placed his finger on his mouth. Tip-Top replied by closing his eyes with his fingers, as if to show that he saw nothing. When he had an opportunity he said to this man:--

"'Tell your master I will be willing to sell the saddle to-night. I will sleep with it under my head on the next corner. It is worth one thousand pieces of gold.'

"Then he returned to the Mayor, and they went away. Tip-Top laughed as they walked along. 'This thief,' he remarked, 'is a fool. It is so easy to steal a horse that he will not buy a saddle. He will try to steal mine. Then we shall catch him. He will get the horse--'

"'What!' cried the Mayor; 'get the horse?'

"'Certainly; nothing is easier,' replied Tip-Top. 'He will get the horse, and then he will want a saddle. He will be passing the wall here. He will see me sleeping with my head on my friend and then he will attempt to steal it, but the surcingle will be buckled around my body, and I will awake and cry blue murder. Then you and your brother can come forward from the vacant house yonder and seize him.'

"'Where did you learn all this?' asked the Mayor. He began to suspect that his brother was right when he said that Tip-Top was the thief.

"'My saddle told me,' Tip-Top answered.

"'Well,' said the Mayor, 'your plan is as good as any, but how will the thief get the horse that is so well guarded?'

"'Ah!' Tip-Top exclaimed, 'if I were to tell you, we should never catch the thief.'

"So it was all arranged. Tip-Top was to sleep on his Talking-Saddle, near the wall and the Mayor and his brother were to watch from the windows of the vacant house opposite.

"When night came, the watchers who had been set to guard the horse were very anxious. They were ready to arrest any one who might chance to enter. Whenever they heard footsteps approaching they seized their clubs and stood on the defensive. Sometimes a passer-by would pause, look in, and ask what the trouble was. Then the watchers would reply that they were waiting for the great thief who was coming to steal the fine horse. Thus the hours passed, but no thief came. Then the watchers began to get tired.

"'We are crazy,' said one. 'How can a thief steal this horse, even if he were to come in here? We are four to one. Two of us should sleep a while, and thus we can take turns in watching.' This was agreed to, and two of the guards stretched themselves on the straw and prepared to sleep. But just then they heard some one singing far down the street. It was a jolly song, and the sound of it came louder and louder. As the singer was going by, the light in the stable caught his eye, and he paused and looked in, but still kept up his singing.

"'Friends,' he said when his song was done, 'what is the trouble?'

"'We are watching a horse.'

"'Is he sick? Perhaps I can aid you. I have doctored many a horse in my day.'

"'He is not sick,' replied the watchers. 'He is well and taking his ease. We are watching to prevent a thief from stealing him.'

"Then they told him the threat the thief had made.

"'Come, that is too good,' cried the newcomer. 'This thief will be worth looking at when four such stout lads as you get through with him. When does he show himself?'

"'That is what we are to find out,' replied the watchers.

"'Very well,' the newcomer said; 'I'll stay, by your permission, and see you double him up.'

"The watchers gave their consent gladly, for the newcomer had a lively manner and a rattling tongue. He sang songs and told stories for an hour or more, and then pulled a bottle from under his coat.

"'A little wine,' he said, 'will clear the fog from our throats.' He passed the bottle around, and all drank except the guard who was watching in the stall.

"Now the man who had come singing up the street was the thief himself, and the guard in the stall was his companion. The wine was drugged, and in a very few minutes three of the watchers were fast asleep. Then the thief and his companion took the horse from the stall.

"'I shall have to remain here and pretend to be asleep,' said the companion. 'You will find a saddle around the corner.' He then told the thief about the man with the saddle.

"'You are a fool, my friend,' said the thief. 'It is a trick--a trap.'

"But when he had carried off the horse and hid it at the house of an acquaintance, the thought of the man with the saddle worried him so that he went back to satisfy himself. Tip-Top and his saddle were there, and Tip-Top had slept so soundly that his head had rolled from his pillow. The thief thought it would be a good stroke of business to take the saddle along, but when he tried to lift it, Tip-Top awoke and seized him, and cried 'Murder!' at the top of his voice.

"The Mayor and his brother rushed from their place of concealment, and soon the thief was bound.

"'Where is the horse?' cried the Mayor.

"'What horse?' exclaimed the thief. 'Do you think I carry horses in my pocket?'

"'What were you doing here, then?'

"'This fellow's head had slipped from its pillow, and when I tried to put it back he seized me and yelled that I was murdering him! I saw no horse under the saddle.'

"'Wait here a little,' said Tip-Top. 'Hold this thief till I return.'

"He went to the stable, woke the thief's accomplice, who by this time was really asleep, and told him his companion had been captured. 'If I can find the horse and hide it our friend will be safe, for nothing can be proved on him.'

"The man was so frightened that he told Tip-Top where he had arranged to meet the thief the next day. Then Tip-Top returned to the Mayor and his brother, who still held the thief, and took them to the house where the horse had been stabled.

"When the horse had been found and restored to its owner the Mayor said to Tip-Top that he would not only reward him handsomely but grant any request he might make.

"'Then, your honor,' replied Tip-Top, 'give this man his liberty.'

"'Why?' asked the Mayor, much astonished.

"'Because, your honor, he is my brother.'

"The thief was as much astonished as the Mayor at this turn in his affairs, but he had no difficulty in recognizing Tip-Top as his younger brother.

"'He certainly is a man of talent,' said the Mayor, 'and it is a pity that he should be executed.'

"Then the thief fell on his knees and begged the Mayor to pardon him, promising him to live and die an honest man. And he kept his promise. He engaged in business, and, aided by Tip-Top's advice and influence, made a large fortune."

"What became of the Talking-Saddle?" asked Buster John.

"Well," replied Mr. Thimblefinger, "Tip-Top hung the saddle in his front porch, as you have seen farmers do. He thought a great deal of it."

"I've read something about the great thief," remarked Buster John. "But the story didn't end that way. The thief escaped every time."

"Oh, well, you know how some people are," exclaimed Mrs. Meadows. "They want everything to happen just so; even a thief must be a big man if he's in a story; but I don't believe anybody ever stole anything yet without getting into trouble about it."

"Who is that crying?" Mr. Rabbit suddenly exclaimed.

"I hear no crying," said Mrs. Meadows.

"I certainly thought I heard crying," persisted Mr. Rabbit.

"It is Chickamy Crany Crow and Tickle-My-Toes singing. Listen!"

Sure enough the queer-looking boy and the queer-looking girl were singing a song. One sang one line and the other the next line, and this made the song somewhat comical. The words were something like these:--

CHICKAMY CRANY CROW.

Oh sing it slow,
This song of woe,
Of the girl who went to wash her toe!
Her name was Chick--
(Oh run here quick--
The word's so thick)--
Chickamy--Chickamy Crany Crow!

Chickamy what? and Chickamy which?
She went to the well and fell in the ditch;
What o'clock, old Witch?

The clock struck one
And bowed to the sun;
But the sun was fast asleep you know;
And the moon was quick,
With her oldtime trick--
To hide from Chick--
Chickamy--Chickamy Crany Crow!

Chickamy what? and Chickamy which?
She went to the well and fell in the ditch;
What o'clock, old Witch?

Oh, sad to tell!
She went to the well--
The time was as close to eve as to dawn--
To Chickamy Chick,
So supple and slick,
The clock said "Tick!"
But when she came back her chicken was gone!

Oh, whatamy, whichamy, chickamy, oh!
Moonery, oonery, tickamy Toe!
Wellery, tellery, gittery go!
Witchery, itchery, knitchery know.

"What kinder gwines on is dat?" exclaimed Drusilla, whose mind had never been quite easy since she walked through the dry water in the spring without getting drowned. "We all better be makin' our way to'rds home. Time we git dar--ef we ever is ter git dar--it'll be dark good. Den what yo' ma gwine to say? She gwine ter talk wid de flat er her han'--dat what she gwine ter talk wid. Come on!"

"Can't you be quiet?" cried Buster John. "It's nothing but a song."

"Oh, you kin stay, an' I'll stay wid you," said Drusilla; "but when Mistiss git you in de wash-room, don't you come sayin' dat I wouldn't fetch you home."

"I want to see everything," said Buster John.

"I done seed much ez I want ter see," replied Drusilla, "an' now I want ter live ter tell it."

Before Buster John could say anything more, everything suddenly grew a little darker, and in the middle of the sky--or what ought to have been the sky, but which was the enlarged bottom of the spring--there was a huge shadow. The children looked at it in silence.

VII.

THE LADDER OF LIONS.

The shadow that seemed to fall over everything caused Buster John and Sweetest Susan and Drusilla to run to the door. It was not a very dark shadow, but it was dark enough to attract their attention and excite their alarm. They were not yet used to their surroundings, for, although a great many things they saw and heard were familiar to them, they could not forget that they had come through the water in the spring. They could not forget that Mr. Thimblefinger was the smallest grown person they had ever seen,--even if he were a grown person,--nor could they forget that they had never seen a rabbit so wonderfully large as Mr. Rabbit. Drusilla expressed the feelings of all when she remarked that she felt "skittish." They were ready to take alarm at anything that might happen. Therefore they ran to the door to see what the shadow meant. Finally they looked up at the sky, or what seemed to be the sky, and there they saw, covering a large part of it, the vague outline of a huge jug. The shadow wobbled about and wavered, and ripples of light and shadow played about it and ran down to the horizon on all sides.

An astronomer, seeing these fantastic wobblings and waverings of light and shadow in our firmament, would straightway send a letter or a cable dispatch to the newspapers, declaring that an unheard-of convulsion was shaking the depths of celestial space. And, indeed, it was all very puzzling, even to the children, but Drusilla, who had less imagination than any of the rest, accounted for it all by one bold stroke of common sense.

"Shuh! 'T ain't nothin' 't all!" she exclaimed. "Dey done got froo wid dinner at home, an' ol' Aunt 'Cindy done put de buttermilk-jug back in de spring."

Sweetest Susan caught her breath with a gasp, and laughed hysterically. She had been very much alarmed.

"I expect that's what it is," said Buster John, but there was some doubt in his tone. He turned to Mr. Thimblefinger, who had followed them. "What time is it, please?"

Mr. Thimblefinger drew his watch from his pocket with as much dignity as he could assume, and held his head gravely on one side. "It is now--let me see--_ahem!_--it is now precisely thirteen minutes and eleven seconds after one o'clock."

"Is that the jug in the spring?" asked Sweetest Susan, pointing to the huge black shadow that was now wobbling and wavering more slowly.

Mr. Thimblefinger shaded his eyes with his hand and examined the shadow critically. "Yes, that is the jug--the light hurts my eyes--yes, certainly, that is the jug."

Presently a volume of white vapor shot out from the shadow. It was larger than the largest comet, and almost as brilliant.

"What is that?" asked Sweetest Susan.

Mr. Thimblefinger felt almost as thoughtful as a sure-enough man of science.

"That," said he, "is an emanation--an exhalation, you might say--that we frequently witness in our atmosphere."

"A which?" asked Buster John.

"Well," replied Mr. Thimblefinger, clearing his throat, "it's--er--an emanation."

"Huh!" cried Drusilla, "'t ain't no kind er nation. It's des de milk leakin' out'n dat jug. I done tol' Aunt 'Cindy 'bout dat leakin' jug."

Mr. Rabbit and Mrs. Meadows had come out of the house in time to hear this, and they laughed heartily. In fact, they all laughed except Mr. Thimblefinger and Drusilla.

"It happens every day," said Mrs. Meadows. "We never notice it. I suppose if it happened up there where you children live, everybody would make a great to-do? I'm glad I don't live there where there's so much fussing and guessing going on. I know how it is. Something happens that doesn't happen every day, and then somebody'll guess one way and somebody another way, and the first thing you know there's a great rumpus over nothing. I'm truly glad I came away from there in time to get out of the worst of it. You children had better take a notion and stay here with us."

"Oh, no," cried Sweetest Susan. "Mamma and papa would want to see us."

"That's so," said Mrs. Meadows. "Well, I just came out here to tell you not to get too near the Green Moss Swamp beyond the hill yonder. There's an old Spring Lizard over there that might want to shake hands with you with his tail. Besides it's not healthy around there; it is too damp."

"Oh, we are not going anywhere until we start home," Sweetest Susan remarked.

"How large is the Spring Lizard?" inquired Buster John.

"He's a heap too big for you to manage," replied Mrs. Meadows. "I don't know that he'd hurt you, but he's slept in the mud over there until he's so fat he can't wallow scarcely. He might roll over on you and hurt you some."

"Are there any lions over there?" inquired Sweetest Susan.

"No, honey, not a living one," said Mrs. Meadows.

By this time Mr. Rabbit had come out on the piazza, bringing his walking-cane and his pipe. He presently seated himself on the steps, and leaned his head comfortably against one of the posts.

"Well, well, well," he exclaimed. "It has been years and years since I've heard the name of Brother Lion. Is he still living and doing well?" Mr. Rabbit turned an inquiring eye on Sweetest Susan.

"She doesn't know anything about lions," said Buster John.

"Why, I do!" cried Sweetest Susan. "I saw one once in a cage."

"In a cage? Brother Lion in a cage?" Mr. Rabbit raised his hands and rolled his eyes in astonishment. "What is the world coming to? Well, I've said many and many a time that Brother Lion was not right up here." Mr. Rabbit tapped his forehead significantly. "In a cage! Now, that pesters me. Why, he used to go roaring and romping about the country, scaring them that didn't know him mighty nigh to death. And so Brother Lion is in a cage? But I might have known it. I wonder how the rest of the family are getting on? Not that they are any kin to me, for they are not. I called him Brother Lion just to be neighborly. Oh, no! He and his family are no kin to me. They are too heavy in both head and feet for that."

Mr. Rabbit closed his eyes as if reflecting, and patted the ground softly with his foot.

"Well, well! I remember just as well as if it were yesterday the day I told Brother Lion that if he wasn't careful, Mr. Man would catch him and put him in a cage for his children to look at. But he just hooted at it--and now, sure enough, there he is! I mind the first time he began his pursuit of Mr. Man. That was the time he got his hand caught in the split of the log."

"I done hear my daddy tell dat tale," remarked Drusilla.

"Yes," said Mr. Rabbit, "it soon became common talk in the neighborhood. Brother Lion had come a long way to hunt Mr. Man, and as soon as he got his hand out of the split in the log he started to go home again. I went part of the way with him, and then it was that I told him he'd find himself in a cage if he wasn't careful. I made a burdock poultice for his hand the best I could--"

"And it's mighty good for bruises, I tell you now!" exclaimed Mrs. Meadows.

"And then Brother Lion went on home, feeling better, but still very mad. Crippled as he was, he was a quick traveler, and it was not long before he came to his journey's end.

"Well, when his mother saw him she was very sorry. But when he told her what the matter was she was vexed. 'Aha!' said she, 'how often have I told you about meddling with somebody else's business! How often have I told you about sticking your nose into things that don't concern you! I'm not sorry for you one bit, because if you had obeyed me you wouldn't be coming home now with your hand mashed all to flinders. But, no! daddy-like, you've got to go and get yourself into trouble with Mr. Man, and now you see what has come of it. I'm not feeling at all well myself, but now I've got to go to work and make a whole parcel of poultices and tie your hand up and nurse you--and I declare somebody ought to be nursing me this very minute.'

"That was what Brother Lion's mother said," continued Mr. Rabbit, "but Brother Lion didn't say anything. He just lay on the sheepskin pallet she made him and studied how he would be revenged on Mr. Man. After a while his hand got well, but still he said very little about the matter. The more he thought about the way he had been treated, the madder he got. He gnashed his teeth together and waved his long tail about until it looked like a snake. Finally he sent word to all his kin--his uncles and his cousins--to meet him somewhere in the woods and hold a convention to consider how they should catch the great monster, Mr. Man, who had caused a log of wood to mash Brother Lion's hand.

"Well, it wasn't long before the uncles and cousins began to arrive. They came from far and near, and they seemed to be very ferocious. They shook their manes and showed their tushes. They went off in the woods and held their convention, and Brother Lion laid his complaint before them. He told them what kind of treatment he had received from Mr. Man, and asked them if they would help to get his revenge. He made quite a speech, and when he sat down, his uncles and cousins were very much excited. They roared and howled. They said they were ready to tear Mr. Man limb from limb. They declared they were ready to go where he was, and gnaw him and claw him on account of the scandalous way he had treated their blood-kin.

"But when Brother Lion's mother heard what they proposed to do she shut her eyes and shook her head from side to side, and told the uncles and the cousins that they had better go back home, all of them. She said that before they got through with Mr. Man they'd wish they had never been born. But go they would and go they did.

"So they started out soon one morning, and traveled night and day for nearly a week. They were getting very tired and hungry, and some of the younger blood-cousins wanted to stop and rest, and some wanted to turn around and go back home. But one morning while they were going through the woods, feeling a little shaky in head and limb, they suddenly came in sight of Mr. Man. He was cutting down trees and splitting them into timber. He had his coat off, and seemed to be very busy.

"But he was not so busy that he didn't hear Mr. Lion and his uncles and blood-cousins sneaking through the woods over the dry leaves, and he wasn't so busy that he couldn't see them moving about among the trees. He was very much astonished. He wondered where so many of the Lion family came from, and what they were doing there, but he didn't stop to ask any questions. He dropped his axe and climbed a tree.

"Brother Lion and his uncles and his blood-cousins were very much pleased when they saw Mr. Man climb the tree. 'We have him now,' said Brother Lion, and the rest licked their jaws and smiled. Then they gathered around the tree and sat on their haunches and watched Mr. Man. This didn't do any good, for Mr. Man sat on a limb and swung his legs, just as contentedly as if he was sitting in his rocking-chair at home.

"Then Brother Lion and his uncles and his blood-cousins showed their teeth and growled. But this didn't do any good. Mr. Man swung his feet and whistled a dance-tune. Then Brother Lion and his blood-cousins opened their mouths wide and roared as loud as they could. But this didn't do any good. Mr. Man leaned his head against the trunk of the tree and pretended to be nodding.

"This made Brother Lion and his blood-kin very mad. They ran around the tree and tore the bark with their claws, and waved their tails back and forth. But this didn't do any good. Mr. Man just sat up there and swung his feet and laughed at them.

"Brother Lion and his blood-kin soon found that if they intended to capture Mr. Man they'd have to do something else besides caper around the foot of the tree. So they talked it over, and Brother Lion fixed up a plan. He said that he would stand at the foot of the tree and rear up against the trunk, and one of his blood-cousins could climb on his back and rear up, and then another cousin or uncle could climb up, and so on until there was a ladder of bloodthirsty Lions high enough to reach Mr. Man.

"Brother Lion, mind you, was to be at the bottom of the Lion ladder," remarked Mr. Rabbit, with a chuckle, "and he had a very good reason for it. He had had dealings with Mr. Man, and he wanted to keep as far away from him as possible. But before they made the Lion ladder, Brother Lion looked up at Mr. Man and called out:--

"'What are you doing up there?'

"'You'll find out a great deal too soon for your comfort,' replied Mr. Man.

"Brother Lion said, 'Come down from there.'

"Mr. Man answered, 'I'll come down much sooner than you want me to.'

"Then Brother Lion, his uncles, and his blood-cousins began to build their ladder. Brother Lion was the bottom round of this ladder, as you may say," continued Mr. Rabbit. "He reared up and placed his hands against the tree, and one of his uncles jumped on his shoulders, and put his hands against the tree. Then a cousin, and then another uncle, and so on until the ladder reached a considerable distance up the tree. It was such a high ladder that it began to wobble, and the last uncle had hard work to make his way to the top. He climbed up very carefully and slowly, for he was not used to this sort of business. He was the oldest and the fiercest of the old company, but his knees shook under him as he climbed up and felt the ladder shaking and wobbling.

"Mr. Man saw that by the time this big Lion got to the top of the ladder his teeth and his claws would be too close for comfort, and so he called out in an angry tone:--

"'Just hold on! Just stand right still! Wait! I'm not after any of you except that fellow at the bottom there. I'm not trying to catch any of you but him. He has bothered me before. I let him go once, but I'll not let him get away this time. Just stand right still and hold him there till I climb down the other side of the tree.'

"With that Mr. Man shook the limbs and leaves and dropped some pieces of bark. This was more than Brother Lion could stand. He was so frightened that he jumped from under the ladder, and his uncles and his blood-cousins came tumbling to the ground, howling, growling, and fighting.

"They were as sorry-looking a sight as ever you saw when they came to their senses. Those that didn't have their bones broken by the fall were torn and mangled. They had acted so foolishly that out of the whole number, Mr. Man didn't get but three lion-skins that could be called perfect.

"Brother Lion went home to his mother as fast as he could go and remained quiet a long time. And now you tell me he's in a cage."

Mr. Rabbit paused and shook his head until his ears flopped.

The children seemed to enjoy the story very much; so much so, indeed, that Mrs. Meadows wanted Mr. Rabbit to tell some of his own queer experiences, but Mr. Rabbit laughed and said that it didn't seem exactly right to be telling his own stories. He said if he told the stories just as they happened, he'd have to talk about himself a good deal, and people would think he was boastful. He declared he didn't feel like making his young friends think he was bragging.

"Oh, we shan't mind that," said Sweetest Susan, "shall we, brother?"

"Why, of course not," replied Buster John.

"La! we all done hear folks brag, till we got hardened ter braggin'!" exclaimed Drusilla.

So the children, aided by Mrs. Meadows, coaxed Mr. Rabbit until he finally consented to tell some of his queer adventures.

VIII.

BROTHER TERRAPIN'S FIDDLE-STRING.