Chapter III: Part 3

“Now for my trick,” said Beckie when she and her little brother were over on the side of the circus barn where the elephants lived. “I was thinking, Neddie, that if we could get a long plank, or board, we could put it over the back of one of the big elephants. Then you could get on one end of the board and I’d get on the other, and we would see-saw and teeter-tauter up and down, and the people who watched us would like the trick very much.”

“Yes, I think that would be fine!” cried Neddie. “Why, that isn’t a girl’s trick at all! It’s good enough for any of the boys! We’ll do it, and maybe we’ll get a lot of sweet buns and some lollypops, too! Why, that’s as good a trick as some that George does!”

And George was a pretty good trick bear, too, let me tell you. When the Professor blew on his brass horn, Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta-ra! George would somersault, or peppersault, and march like a soldier and do all things like that.

Well, Neddie and Beckie found a long teetery-tautery plank in the barn, and then they asked the kind old elephant, who had once helped Neddie, if he would let them put it on his back for a see-saw.

“Why, to be sure I will,” kindly said the elephant, and with his long rubbery, stretchy trunk he put the plank on his own back, for it was quite too heavy for Neddie and Beckie to lift so high.

“But I wonder how we are to get up on the plank now?” asked the little girl bear.

“You can climb up my neck, if you don’t scratch me too much,” said the spotted giraffe, who was as tall as a stepladder. So Neddie climbed up the neck of one giraffe, on one side of the elephant, and Beckie climbed up another giraffe on the other side, the bear children taking care not to scratch the tall, spotted creatures. Then the little bear cubs got on the plank over the elephant’s back both at the same time, balancing themselves nicely, and then they began to teeter-tauter! Up and down they went, while Beckie sang this song.

“Teeter-tauter
Bread and water.
Up and down we go.
Sometimes I am very high
Then again I’m low.”

Well, the bear cubs were having a fine time, when along came the circus man and the Professor, who owned George, the trained bear. The two men, who could speak and understand bear, and all other animal languages, watched Neddie and Beckie doing the teeter-tauter trick Beckie had thought up all by herself.

“That’s pretty good,” said the circus man, speaking bear talk, and nodding toward the two little bears.

“Yes, indeed,” said the Professor. Then the two of them talked for some time in their own language, which Beckie and Neddie could not understand very well.

Beckie and Neddie felt very proud that the circus man and the Professor should like their trick. But a little later, when the poll-parrot came over to them, and told them something, they did not feel so happy. The poll-parrot said:

“Oh, you don’t know what I heard! I heard those two men talking about you two little bears. I can understand man talk, and talk it myself, you see.”

“What did they say?” asked Neddie, sliding down off the teeter-tauter. That let Beckie come down suddenly with a bump, but she fell on a pile of soft shavings, so she did not get hurt in the least.

“What did they say?” asked the parrot. “Why I heard them say that they were going to dress you two bears up like clowns, and make you go down South where it’s warm weather even if it’s winter up here. Down there the Professor is going to take you and George and an elephant, and make you do that see-saw trick. Oh, you’re going to be taken away from here!”

Beckie and Neddie looked at each other. They had never thought such a thing would happen when they did their little trick.

“Oh, dear!” cried Beckie as she thought of going farther and farther away from her home and her mamma. “I wish we’d never run away, Neddie!”

“So do I!” exclaimed Neddie. “But I’ll not let them send us down South! Listen, Beckie, we must run away again, only this time we’ll run back home!”

“Oh, goodie!” cried Beckie, clapping her paws.

“Come on—right away!” said Neddie. “We’ll go before the Professor and the circus man see us!”

So the two little bear children slipped out of the back door of the barn. They wished they could kiss George, the big, kind bear, good-by, but it was impossible—which means you can’t do it.

Oh! how fast Neddie and Beckie ran. Over the fields and through the woods they went, until the circus barn was left far, far behind. And finally, just as night was coming on, the two little children bears reached the cave in the side of the hill where they lived, and they were safe home again, and oh! how glad their papa and mamma and Aunt Piffy, the fat bear lady, were to see them. And of course Mr. Whitewash, the Polar bear, and Uncle Wigwag, the trick-playing bear, were glad also. And oh! such a good supper as Neddie and Beckie had.

“We’re never going to run away again!” they said.

So that’s all to this story, but in the next one, if the dog barking at the moon in our backyard doesn’t take off his collar and tie it on my pussy cat’s neck, I’ll tell you about Neddie Stubtail and little Wuzzy Fuzzytail.

STORY XIII
NEDDIE AND WUZZY FUZZYTAIL

“Come, children, it’s time to get up!” called Mrs. Stubtail, the bear lady, as she stood at the foot of the stairs in the cave-house, on the side of the green hill, one morning. “Come, Neddie! Come, Beckie!”

Up out of their beds in the soft, brown autumn leaves jumped Neddie and Beckie.

“Oh, is that the Professor man, going to make us do our trick of see-sawing on the elephant’s back?” cried Beckie, rubbing her eyes.

“Or maybe it’s George, the tame bear, calling us,” said Neddie. Then he and his sister looked at each other, and they both laughed.

“Why, we’re in our own home!” exclaimed Beckie, looking around.

“So we are! And not in the circus barn at all!” added Neddie, as he noticed his own room in the cave. Then he and his sister laughed again, jumped into their little bear suits, and slid down the stair rail to breakfast.

“Well, isn’t it good to be home again?” asked Mrs. Stubtail, as she put some more corn griddle cakes on the stove to cook.

“Indeed, it is!” said Beckie.

“And I guess you didn’t get any nice sweet maple syrup honey like this when you ran away from home, to go with the Professor man, and George, the trick bear; did you?” asked Aunt Piffy, the fat old lady bear.

“Indeed, we didn’t!” exclaimed Beckie, as she took another cake. “And when you called us to breakfast just now, mamma, we thought we were back in the barn again, with all the circus animals.”

“Well, what are we going to do to-day?” asked Neddie, as he pushed back his chair. And, just as he did it, Uncle Wigwag, the old gentleman bear, who was always playing tricks on the animal children, tipped Neddie over backward.

“Oh, my!” cried the bear boy.

“Don’t be frightened!” called Uncle Wigwag with a laugh. “I’m not going to let you fall!” And with that he caught Neddie, chair and all, up in his big paws and gave him a bear hug; he was so glad to see his little nephew back home again.

“Well, I know what I’m going to do,” said Beckie, “I’m going to give my doll, Mary Ann Puddingstick Clothespin, a nice bath, and put a clean dress on her.” For, you see, the rubber doll had got rather mussed up traveling around through the woods.

“I know what you are both going to do,” said Mrs. Stubtail, with a smile. “You are both going to school. You have missed enough lessons as it is, running off the way you did.

“I’ll not punish you, although you did give us a bad fright, but you really must go back to school.”

“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Neddie, scratching his nose with his claws.

“That’s what I say!” spoke Beckie. You see, she and Neddie had been out of school nearly a week now, and it was rather hard to go back again.

But they were pretty good little bear children—not too goody-goody, you know, but good enough—and so they went to school.

And something happened soon after they reached their classes. Neddie talked in school. You see, the way it was, Joie Kat leaned over and asked him:

“Where have you been all this while?”

And Neddie answered back:

“Oh, in a circus. I’ll tell you all about it at recess.”

The teacher heard them whispering, and kept both the little bear boy and the kitten chap in after school. Joie Kat got out first, because he finished his punish-lesson sooner than Neddie.

And when Neddie Stubtail finally got out of school there was none of the other animal boys to be seen. Every one, from Sammie Littletail, the rabbit, to Jimmie Wibblewobble, the duck, and Jackie and Peetie Bow Wow, the puppy dog boys, had all run off to play.

“Well,” said Neddie, “I guess I’ll have to go home alone. Never mind, maybe I’ll have an adventure.” An adventure, you know, is something that happens; like when you drop your candy-penny down a crack in the boardwalk.

Well, Neddie was walking along through the woods, and wishing he could find a lollypop, or maybe some honey cakes, when, all of a sudden, he heard a little crying voice down under a pile of leaves. And it was such a sad, baby sort of crying voice that Neddie was not at all frightened. He just looked around to see who it was, thinking perhaps it might be Jillie Longtail, the little mousie girl.

But instead he saw a big tail sticking out from under the leaves, and when Neddie had poked them away with his paw there he saw only Wuzzy Fuzzytail, the tiny little fox boy.

“Oh, hello, Wuzzy!” cried Neddie. “What are you doing here?”

“I—I’m lost!” sobbed Wuzzy Fuzzytail. “I’m lost and I don’t know where my home is—boo-hoo!”

“Oh, never mind! Don’t cry!” said Neddie. “I’ll take you home. Why did you hide under the leaves?”

“Well,” said Wuzzy, “when I heard you coming along through the woods, I didn’t know who it was. I thought maybe it was a bad bear, so I hid under the leaves. Boo-hoo!”

“Don’t cry!” said Neddie again. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Oh, boo-hoo!” still sobbed Wuzzy.

“Don’t say boo-hoo!” spoke Neddie. “Just say it backward for a change—say ‘Hoo-boo!’ Maybe that will make you stop crying.”

“Hoo-boo!” said Wuzzy Fuzzytail, the little fox boy, and, surely enough, when he said that he stopped crying at once.

Then Neddie took the paw of the little fox boy in his own big one, and away they went through the woods together toward the hollow log where Wuzzy lived with his papa and mamma.

“I’m awful glad you found me, Neddie,” said Wuzzy Fuzzytail to the bear boy. “I wish I could do you a favor for being so kind to me.”

“Oh, that’s all right!” said Neddie, sort of careless-like. “Maybe you can, some day.”

Well, they were going along through the woods, when, all of a sudden, they saw right in front of them the bad old skillery-scalery alligator.

“Ah, ha!” cried the unpleasant creature with the hump nose, “at last I have you, Neddie Stubtail! And a little fox, too. Better and better! Well, I’ll take the bear first and the fox boy afterward,” and with that he grabbed Neddie.

“Oh, dear!” cried the bear boy. “Now I am caught. This comes of being kept in after school.”

He tried to get away from the alligator, but could not, and he felt very sad. Poor little Wuzzy did not know what to do, so he just stood there shivering and wondering who would take him home in case the alligator carried Neddie away.

But foxes are very smart, even when they are small, and Wuzzy was a bright little chap. So, when he saw the alligator taking Neddie away, Wuzzy said to himself:

“I wonder if I can’t help him? He helped me, so it is only fair that I should help him. What can I do?”

He thought a minute and then he said:

“Ah, ha! I have it. I’ll bite the alligator’s tail. He will be so surprised that he will give a jump, and then maybe Neddie can get away.”

So, going softly up behind the alligator, who did not see him, Wuzzy nipped the alligator on the little end of his tail. And Wuzzy Fuzzytail had very sharp teeth, let me tell you, as all foxes have. He gave the ’gator a good, hard nip.

“Ouch! Wow! Horsecars and mustard seed!” cried the alligator, and he jumped around so suddenly, to see who was biting him, that he let go of Neddie.

“Now’s your chance, Neddie! Run!” cried Wuzzy. And how Neddie did run! Wuzzy ran after him, and soon they were so far away that the alligator could not catch them. Then Neddie took Wuzzy home, and Mrs. Fuzzytail thanked the bear boy very much and gave him a piece of cake.

Then Neddie went home himself and he didn’t whisper in school any more that day. So that’s all to this story.

And to-morrow night if the poll-parrot doesn’t call the poodle dog funny names and bite a hole in the firecracker, I’ll tell you about Beckie making a doll’s dress.

STORY XIV
BECKIE MAKES A DOLL’S DRESS

“Beckie! Beckie, where are you?” called Neddie Stubtail, the little boy bear, one morning after breakfast. “Come along! You’ll be late for school. I’m not going to wait for you.”

“I’m coming,” answered Beckie from inside the cave-house on the side of the hill. “I’m coming! Wait a minute!”

“I’m not going to wait, and be late!” said Neddie, and he was not quite as polite as he might have been.

“Oh, Neddie!” exclaimed Aunt Piffy, the fat old lady bear, puffing and blowing, for she had been down cellar after some potatoes, and when she came up stairs she always puffed and blew.

“Why, Neddie!” she went on, “you should (puff) wait for (puff) your little (puff) sister. She doesn’t very often (puff) ask you to (puff) do it. More times she has to (puff) wait for you!”

“Oh, well, I’ll wait,” said Neddie, and he felt the least little bit ashamed of himself for having talked that way to his sister. “But I don’t want to be late,” he added.

“You won’t be late—I’m coming!” called Beckie. “I just wanted to find my needle and thread.”

“Needle and thread!” cried Neddie. “You don’t mean to tell me, do you Beckie, that you’ve torn your dress and have to stop and sew it? And the last bell will ring in a few minutes! Oh, I’m not going to wait at all any longer! I’m going!” And off the little bear boy started, holding out his little stubby tail as stiff and straight as he could. But at that it wasn’t much larger than your thumb, and you could hardly notice it.

“No, indeed, I haven’t torn my dress, and I don’t have to stop to sew it up,” said Beckie, as she came running out of the cave-house. “Wait a minute, won’t you please, Neddie? I’m just taking my needle and thread and some pieces of silk to school with me so I can make my new doll, Sarah Janet Picklefeather, a new dress.”

“What, make your doll a dress in school?” cried Neddie, stopping and turning around. “Teacher never will let you, Beckie Stubtail—never! And you know it!”

“Oh, but I’m not going to sew in school,” said Beckie, sweetly. “I’m taking my lunch with me, and I’m not coming home to dinner, and I’m going to sew on my doll’s dress during the noon recess. And I’ve got some honey cakes for my lunch, too!”

“Oh, wow!” cried Neddie. “So that’s how it is, eh? Then I’m going to take my lunch, too, and stay at school and have some fun. May I have some honey cakes, mamma?”

“Oh, yes, I guess so,” answered Mrs. Stubtail, who, with Aunt Piffy, had come to the door to see the children start for school.

Then Neddie ran back to get his lunch put up. And such a busy time as there was, for a few minutes. Mrs. Stubtail and Aunt Piffy both tried to put the lunch up, so Neddie would not be late, and Mrs. Stubtail dropped the bread, butter side down, and Aunt Piffy lost her breath and could hardly find it again. Then Uncle Wigwag, the bear gentleman, who was always playing tricks, sat down in the fly paper by mistake, and Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear gentleman, had to pull the sticky stuff off his friend, Uncle Wigwag.

And that wasn’t all. For Mr. Whitewash was shaving his whiskers, and when he wasn’t looking, Mrs. Stubtail knocked over the molasses pitcher into his cup, full of soap-suds lather, and when Mr. Whitewash went to lather his face again he was almost as badly stuck up as Uncle Wigwag was with the fly paper.

Oh, my! Such goings on!

But, finally, Neddie’s lunch was put up and all this while Beckie waited for him, and she never once said “hurry up!” or “I’m going on, we’ll be late!” Not once did she say it, though she might well have done so, since the last bell had been ringing for some time.

But finally Beckie and Neddie got to school and they were only about one forty-’leventh part of a second late, and that didn’t count.

I wish I could tell you all that happened in school that day—how Neddie went to the blackboard, and wrote a fine story of a poodle dog that could stand on its head. And how Joie Kat drew such a real-like picture of a mouse that Tommie Kat, Joie’s brother, wanted to chase it, and it was all his sister Kittie Kat could do to stop him.

But I haven’t room to tell you any of those things now. I must tell you about Beckie making her doll’s dress. Now, hold on, boys, if you please. You might think this is a girl’s story, but it isn’t—that is not all of it, even if it is partly about a doll’s dress.

If you just listen you’ll see that Beckie did a very brave thing, which shows you that girls can do things as well as boys can, and lots of times better. Take, for instance, braiding hair—a boy couldn’t braid his hair to save him, but look how easily a girl can do it, and chew gum, and read a book and talk, all at the same time. Well, I guess!

Anyhow, pretty soon it was recess time, and all the animal children could come out of school. Some went home to their dinner, and others, who had brought their lunch, found nice cozy places where they could eat it.

Neddie went off with Tommie and Joie Kat, and with Jackie and Peetie Bow Wow, the puppy dog boys. And as soon as Beckie had finished her lunch she got out her needle and thread and thimble and the pieces of silk, and began to make a dress for her doll, Sarah Janet Picklefeather.

First she sewed in some—tuckers, I think they’re called, or maybe it was puckers. Anyhow, she sewed them in the dress, Beckie did, to make it look nice.

Then the little bear girl made a few frills around the neck and down the side she sewed in some rosettes. Around the middle she gathered some insertions, and then on the bottom—let me see now, what did she put on the bottom? Oh, I know, it was a ruffle. (You boys may skip this part if you like. I wouldn’t write it only I have to put in something about the dress, or the girls wouldn’t read the story.)

Where were we? Oh, I remember. We’d gotten to the bottom part of the dress. And that reminds me, if we’re at the bottom of the dress that’s all there is to it, and I can stop, and so I’m at the end of that part, and don’t have to write any more, thank goodness!

Anyhow, Beckie was sitting on the steps of the school, in the warm sunshine, sewing away on Miss Picklefeather’s dress, making her needle go in and out, when, all of a sudden, along came a bad old, big bear who didn’t like little bear girls, nor bear boys, either.

“Ah, ha!” growled the bad bear. “This is the time I have caught you! I’ve been waiting a long time to get you! Now I’m going to carry you off to my den, and make you wash dishes for ever and ever. Bur-r-r-r-r-r-r-r!”

Beckie looked up quickly and started to run, but she had no chance. The bad bear was right in front of her, and the door, before which she was sitting, was one that was hardly ever used, so it had been locked. Beckie couldn’t escape that way. She looked all around the school yard, but none of her friends was in sight. Neither was Neddie, who might have saved her, and as for the teacher, she had gone home to her dinner.

“Oh, help! Help!” cried poor little Beckie. She didn’t want the bear to take her away, and, as for washing dishes, she just hated that work, though she didn’t mind doing them for her mamma.

“Pooh! No one will help you!” cried the bad bear. “So don’t bother to call. Come along!” And he reached out his paws to grab Beckie. Then he happened to notice the doll’s dress, and, being a very curious sort of bear, he asked: “What are you doing?”

“I am making a dress for my doll,” answered Beckie, as politely as she could, with all her trembling. Then she thought of a trick to play on that bear. “Would you like to see me sew on the doll’s dress?” Beckie asked, sweetly.

“Well, you might show me one or two stitches,” said the bear, sort of careless-like. “But, mind you, I’ll carry you off just the same.”

“All right,” answered Beckie. “Look closely now. You see, I put the needle in this side of the silk and I push it through with my thimble.”

“Yes,” said the bear, “I see.”

“Now look closely,” said Beckie, and the bear leaned forward and put his nose and eyes close down. “And then,” said Beckie, “I pull my needle out this way, and—I stick it in your soft and tender nose—that way!” And with that she did it, jabbing the needle into the bear’s nose!

“Oh, wow!” cried the bad bear, and he was so surprised that he turned a back somersault and then he ran away off in the woods to get some honey to put on his sore nose. So he didn’t take Beckie away after all. Which shows you that it’s a good thing to make a doll’s dress, sometimes.

Then, soon the other children came back to school, and so did the teacher, and lessons went on and everybody said Beckie was very brave. And I think so, too, and in the story after this, if the ashman doesn’t take our furnace out in the yard so that it catches cold and can’t go to the moving picture show, I’ll tell you about Neddie’s joke on Uncle Wigwag.

STORY XV
NEDDIE’S JOKE ON UNCLE WIGWAG

“What is the matter? Why are you laughing so much?” asked Aunt Piffy, the fat old lady bear, of Uncle Wigwag, the comical old bear gentleman, one morning at the breakfast table.

“Oh, ho! Ha, ha! I tee-hee—ho—ho! I just can’t help it!” said Uncle Wigwag, giggling, so that he spilled some honey on the tablecloth. And Mrs. Stubtail, the mamma bear, said:

“Oh, there you go again!”

“Excuse me!” spoke Uncle Wigwag, and then he laughed some more, and some milk he was drinking went down his Sunday throat, and, as the day happened to be Thursday, it was altogether wrong you see, and Uncle Wigwag choked and sniffed and snuffled and laughed, all at the same time.

“Well, I do declare!” exclaimed Aunt Piffy, as she patted Uncle Wigwag on the back, so he wouldn’t lose his breath. And he didn’t, I’m glad to say, but Aunt Piffy accidentally pounded him so hard that she lost part of her own breath, and when she talked next time she had to go like this:

“I never (puff) saw you behave so (puff) at the table before (puff) Waggie, in all my (puff) life. Never! (puff). What is the (puff) matter, Waggie?” You see she called Uncle Wigwag by the name of Waggie for short.

“Oh!” said Uncle Wigwag, when finally he could talk, “I just thought of something, I did! It made me laugh!”

Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear gentleman, looked at Uncle Wigwag quite severely, but he said nothing, and only went on eating his breakfast.

“I think I know what made Uncle Wigwag laugh,” said Beckie Stubtail, the little girl bear, to Neddie, her brother, some time later.

“What?” he asked as he looked for his books to take to school. “What was it, Beckie?”

“He’s thinking of a joke to play,” said Beckie.

“I believe you’re right,” went on Neddie. “Oh, Beckie, and I’ve just thought of something, too.”

“What is it?” she asked as she looked to see if her doll, Sarah Janet Picklefeather, was nicely covered up in the puppy dog’s basket, so she wouldn’t get cold while Beckie was at school.

“We’ll just play a trick on Uncle Wigwag,” went on Neddie. “He plays so many on us that it’s about time we played one on him.”

“Oh, yes, let’s do it!” cried Beckie, clapping her little paws. “But it won’t be a mean or an unkind trick, will it, Neddie? For Uncle Wigwag is very good to us, and gives us lollypops, even if he does play a joke on us now and then.”

“Oh, no, it won’t be a bad trick,” said Neddie, laughing. “Only a funny one.”

So the two little bear children went on to school, talking on the way of the joke they would play on Uncle Wigwag. In fact, Neddie was thinking so much about this that he did not pay enough attention to his lessons, and when the teacher asked him: “Why does a cow eat grass?” Neddie answered: “Because it’s a joke!”

You see, he was thinking of the one he and Beckie were going to play. But the teacher didn’t know that, so she made Neddie go down to the foot of the class for not answering correctly.

Well, when school was out, Neddie and Beckie hurried off by themselves to play the joke on Uncle Wigwag.

“Have you thought of what to do yet?” asked Beckie.

“Yes,” said Neddie, “you know it was cold last night, and the little puddle of water near our cave-house is frozen over. It’s as slippery as glass. Now we’ll cover the puddle over with some sawdust, so you can’t see the ice. Then we’ll make believe write a letter to Uncle Wigwag and we’ll put it on the top of the sawdust in the middle of the frozen puddle.

“He’ll run out to get the letter, when we tell him there is one for him, and he’ll slip on the ice and go down ‘ko-bunk!’”

“Oh, but won’t he get hurt?” asked Beckie, anxious-like.

“No, for his fur is so thick now that he won’t feel the fall,” said Neddie. “Come on, we’ll play the joke on him.”

So the two little bear children got some sawdust, and, when no one was looking, they sprinkled it on the ice so the slippery stuff could not be seen.

Then they made believe write a letter to Uncle Wigwag, and, putting it in a large envelope, with his name on the outside, they put this right in the middle of the frozen puddle, tossing it there so they themselves would not have to walk on the ice and maybe fall down.

“Now, we’ll hide behind this tree,” said Neddie, “and watch for Uncle Wigwag to fall down.” They had left word with Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear, to tell Uncle Wigwag, as soon as he came in, that there was a letter for him on the sawdust. Mr. Whitewash, not knowing anything of the joke Neddie was playing, said he would tell Uncle Wigwag of the letter.

Well, after a while, when Neddie and Beckie had been hiding behind the tree for some time, out came Uncle Wigwag.

“Now, watch!” whispered Neddie. “See him tumble when he gets on the ice!”

But, instead of going over and picking up the letter, Uncle Wigwag put a box down on the ground, near the path by which Neddie and Beckie went to school, and then the old gentleman bear himself went and hid behind a tree.

“Oh, what do you know about that!” whispered Neddie. “He is playing a joke on us, just as I said he would. There’s nothing in that box but a piece of brick, or maybe a lot of stones. Uncle Wigwag expects we’ll pick it up, thinking it’s candy, and when we open it he’ll cry ‘April fool!’ even if it isn’t the month to play those jokes.”

“I believe that’s what he is doing,” said Beckie, laughing.

“Well, we’ll just not be fooled,” went on Neddie. “We’ll leave the make-believe box of candy alone, and wait until we see Uncle Wigwag go out on the ice after his letter and fall down.”

So the two little bear children, laughing to themselves at the joke they were playing on their fun-loving uncle, waited behind the tree. Uncle Wigwag waited behind his tree, too.

Pretty soon, along came Tommie Kat, the kitten boy. He saw the white box on the path, and cried:

“Oh, joy! I guess this is something good!”

“Watch him get fooled!” whispered Neddie. But lo and behold! Tommie opened the box and there it was filled with the nicest kind of candy! There wasn’t a stone or brick in it.

“Oh, yum-yum!” cried Tommie, as he ate the sweet stuff.

“Oh, dear!” cried Beckie. “It _was_ candy, after all. What kind of a joke do you call that?”

“I—I don’t know,” answered Neddie, rubbing his nose with his paw. “I guess Uncle Wigwag played a different one this time.”

“Then we oughtn’t to play a mean joke on him, as long as he played such a nice candy joke on us,” said the little bear girl.

“I guess you’re right,” agreed Neddie. “We’ll tell him not to go get that letter.”

But, before they could do this, Tommie Kat saw the white envelope out on the sawdust-covered ice puddle.

“Oh, joy!” he cried again. “Maybe that’s more candy!” And, before either Beckie or Neddie could call to him, Tommie rushed out to get the make-believe letter. And as soon as he got on the ice, which he couldn’t see because of the sawdust on top, down he went ker-bunko! his feet sliding out from under him, and the candy scattering all over.

“Oh, dear!” cried Tommie Kat. “I’m all sawdust! And the nice candy! Oh, dear! It’s all lost!”

Neddie and Beckie rushed out from behind their tree.

“We didn’t mean that you should fall, Tommie,” said Neddie, as he helped the little kitten boy to stand up. “That was for a joke on Uncle Wigwag.”

“Well, I don’t call it a very nice joke,” said Tommie, rubbing his nose. “But, anyhow, I did find some candy. Help me pick it up.”

“I guess that was for us,” said Beckie. “It was one of Uncle Wigwag’s jokes!”

As the bear children and the kitten boy were picking up the scattered sweet stuff, out came Uncle Wigwag from behind his tree.

“Ha! Ha!” he cried to Neddie. “I guess I fooled you after all, didn’t I? And so you were going to fool me, too, eh? But Tommie got my joke instead. Oh, dear!” and he laughed so hard that he got the hiccoughs, and Aunt Piffy had to rush out of the cave-house to pat him on the back.

And then, all of a sudden, the bad bear, in whose nose Beckie had stuck the needle when she was making her doll’s dress, came rushing up, growling and wanting to bite some one. But Neddie Stubtail, brave little chap that he was, threw a hard lollypop at the bad bear, hitting him on his sore nose, making him cry, “Wow!” and run away off in the woods where he belonged.

Then the rest of the candy was picked up, and Beckie and Neddie said they were sorry they had tried to play the ice trick on Uncle Wigwag, and everything was all right.

And on the next page, if the penholder doesn’t let the ink bottle fall out of the window and make a black mark on the sidewalk, I’ll tell you about Mr. Whitewash and the stovepipe.

STORY XVI
MR. WHITEWASH AND THE STOVE PIPE

“Oh, dear!”

“What’s the matter?”

“Where’s all that smoke coming from?”

“Oh, ker-choo! Wuzz! Fuzz!”

“Snicker-snacker-snookum!”

Every one seemed shouting at once.

There was great excitement in the cave-house, where the Stubtail family of bears lived. Neddie and Beckie, the two little bear children, had jumped out of bed and were choking and sneezing in the hall.

“Why, the house is filled with smoke!” cried out Aunt Piffy, the fat old lady bear, and she puffed so hard because her breath nearly got away from her, that she almost slid downstairs.

“Is the house on fire?” asked Papa Stubtail, as he looked around for a pail of water.

“Maybe this is one of Uncle Wigwag’s tricks,” said Beckie, as she wiped the tears out of her eyes. She wasn’t exactly crying, you understand, but you know smoke always makes tears come into your eyes.

“No, no! There’s no fire!” called Mamma Stubtail, from down in the kitchen. “I was getting breakfast when the stovepipe suddenly fell down. I guess you’ll have to come and fix it, Hiram,” she called to Mr. Stubtail. His first name was Hiram, you see.

“Let me do it,” said Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear, and before any one else could hurry down to the kitchen Mr. Whitewash had slid down the stairs, and soon he had the stovepipe in place again, and the stove cooked things without smoking, and Mrs. Stubtail finished getting breakfast.

But that wasn’t all about Mr. Whitewash and the stovepipe. Just you wait until you get to the end of the story and you’ll see.

Soon breakfast was over, and Beckie and Neddie had started for school. Then Mr. Stubtail went to work, and Uncle Wigwag went over to call on Uncle Wiggily Longears, the rabbit gentleman, to talk about Christmas and Santa Claus.

That left Mr. Whitewash home with Mrs. Stubtail, who was washing the breakfast dishes.

“How did the stovepipe happen to come down?” asked Mr. Whitewash, curious-like.

“I guess it’s getting old and couldn’t stand up much longer,” answered the lady bear. “The first I knew it had tumbled over and the smoke poured out.”

“Yes, there was lots of smoke,” said Mr. Whitewash. “We all were frightened. I must take a look at that pipe,” which he did, putting on his glasses so he could see better.

“Ha!” he cried, after a bit. “I thought so. That stove needs a new pipe. I’ll go after it and fix it before the children come home. Then we won’t have any more trouble when you get up to get the breakfast, Mrs. Stubtail.”

“That will be very kind of you,” said the lady bear.

So off Mr. Whitewash went to get the stovepipe. And very nice he looked, too, walking along through the woods and over the fields, with his white fur all combed out like a French poodle’s when he’s had his bath. Mr. Whitewash was snow-white—and when he walked along sometimes his friends took him for a snowman, and threw snowballs at him. But Mr. Whitewash never minded that.

Well, he got to the stovepipe store all right, but the cow gentleman, who kept it, said:

“I am very sorry, Mr. Whitewash, but we are all out of stovepipe this morning. I expect some in at the end of the week.”

“But I cannot wait that long,” said the white polar bear gentleman. “Our old pipe may fall down any day, and fill the house with smoke again. Then the fire engines will come out and squirt water in our cave, and there’ll be a terrible time. I must have some stovepipe.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said the cow gentleman. “I sold some pipe to Grandfather Goosey Gander, the duck gentleman, the other day, and after he used it awhile he said he wanted a different kind.

“So he took down that I had sold him, and got some different kind. The old pipe is out in his back yard now, and I think he would give it to you.”

“It will do no harm to ask, anyhow,” said Mr. Whitewash.

Over he went to the house of Grandfather Goosey Gander, and there, surely enough, was the pipe.

“Certainly you may have it,” said the duck gentleman. “I am glad to give it to you. But be careful, for it is full of black soot, and it may get on your white coat.”

“Oh, I can wrap it up in a paper,” said Mr. Whitewash, which he did. Then, taking care not to get the stovepipe, though it was wrapped up, against his snow-white fur, off Mr. Whitewash started for the cave-house, where he lived with the Stubtail family.

Did you ever put up a stovepipe? No, I guess you did not. Well, it is not easy work, as Mr. Whitewash soon found. Either the pipe he got from Grandfather Goosey Gander was too large to fit in the chimney hole or else the chimney hole was too small to let the pipe slide in. Anyhow, Mr. Whitewash tried and tried again, and once more, but the pipe would not fit.

“I guess I’ll have to get on a stepladder,” said the polar gentleman, breathing hard.

“Oh, how black your paws are!” exclaimed Aunt Piffy, the fat lady bear.

“Yes, it comes off the stovepipe,” said Mr. Whitewash. “Please bring the stepladder.”

So Aunt Piffy and Mrs. Stubtail went for the ladder, but in bringing it through the kitchen door it slipped and caught on Mrs. Stubtail’s paws, so that she fell down, and so did the fat lady; and Aunt Piffy lost her breath.

Aunt Piffy could hardly get her breath back again, either, but she caught it just as it was slipping out of the door and then she was all right again—at least for a while.

“Now I guess I’ll fix this pipe!” cried Mr. Whitewash, as he stood upon the ladder. Carefully he shoved the stovepipe into the chimney hole, but still it stuck.

“It must go in!” cried the polar bear gentleman, “or else we can’t have a fire in the stove to cook dinner.”

Then he gave a big push on the pipe. But something slipped. Part of what slipped was the stepladder and the other part of what slipped was Mr. Whitewash and the third part of it was the stovepipe.

Down they fell in a heap together on the floor.

“Oh!” screamed Aunt Piffy.

“Oh, me! Oh, my!” cried Mrs. Stubtail. “Shall I get the doctor?”

Mr. Whitewash didn’t say anything for a little while, and then he remarked:

“Please get me a dusting brush!”

And he certainly needed it, for the soot from the stovepipe had scattered all over him, and instead of being a pure white bear, he was speckled black and white now, like those dogs which always run along under a carriage.

But when Aunt Piffy and Mrs. Stubtail tried to brush the black soot off Mr. Whitewash, they found they were only making it worse. The brush scattered the black all over him instead of leaving it only in spots.

“I guess you had better not try,” said Mr. Whitewash. “I’ll take a bath after I get this pipe up.”

“Can you get it up?” asked Mrs. Stubtail.

“Of course I can,” said Mr. Whitewash.

So up on the stepladder the polar bear gentleman got again, and he tried to fix the stovepipe. He almost had it in the chimney hole, and he was just getting ready to holler “Hurray!” when, all of a sudden, there was a growling noise at the back door, and Mrs. Stubtail screamed:

“Oh, a lion! Here’s a lion coming after us!” and she and Aunt Piffy ran in the parlor and hid under the sofa.

“Bur-r-r-r-r-r!” roared the lion. “I’m a bad chap from the circus; and I’ve come after Beckie and Neddie!”

Then he roared again, and so loudly that he made the stepladder tremble. This shook it so that Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear, fell down again. This time the stovepipe landed right on top of his head, like the tall silk hat Uncle Wiggily Longears, the rabbit gentleman, wears. And the soot from the stovepipe scattered all over Mr. Whitewash some more until he was as black as a piece of coal.

“Get out of here!” called Mr. Whitewash to the bad lion, and the lion was so scared at seeing a white bear suddenly turn black, and wear a stovepipe for a hat, that he ran away as fast as he could, taking his tufted tail with him. So he didn’t get Neddie or Beckie after all, and a little later Mr. Whitewash got the pipe all nicely fixed.

Then he took a bath, for, oh! he was so black! But soon he was as nice and white again as a French poodle. So there was no more trouble with smoke in the Stubtail cave-house, and when Beckie and Neddie came home from school they made molasses taffy on the stove.

So that’s all I can tell you now, but on the page after this, in case our cat doesn’t try to walk the telephone wire and fall off into the rose bush, I’ll tell you about Papa Stubtail in a trap.

STORY XVII
PAPA STUBTAIL IN A TRAP

Now to-night I’m going to tell you a story about something sad that happened to Hiram Stubtail, the papa bear. And I will not make it any sadder than I can help. But still I have to tell things exactly as they happened, or it would not be fair, and we must always try to be fair and honest in this world, no matter what happens. Even when we’re sad we must try.

But I will say this, though there is a sad part to the story, there is also a glad part. And the glad part I’ll put in last, so that when you go to bed you will dream about that. I always like to have pleasant dreams; don’t you?

Once I dreamed I found a lot of money and to make sure I’d have it when I awakened I put it under my pillow. But when I woke up the money was all gone. Dream money always does that, you know. It disappears.

And once I dreamed I found a lollypop, and when I put my hand under my pillow there it was—all sticky! My little girl had put it there to keep safe for the night. So that part of my dream came true.

But I started to tell you about Papa Stubtail’s trouble, and I guess you don’t want to hear about my troubles.

Anyhow, one Saturday, when there was no school, Beckie and Neddie Stubtail, the two little bear children, started off to the woods to see if they could have any fun. It was quite cold, and it seemed as if it were going to snow, but they did not mind that, for they had on their warm fur coats.

“I know what let’s do!” exclaimed Beckie. “Let’s go over and call on Uncle Wiggily. You know since he found his fortune he has lots of money, and he might give us some to get a popcorn ball with.”

“All right, I’ll go with you,” agreed Neddie. So they went to the house of the old gentleman rabbit. They found him at home, and he was glad to see them. And, surely enough, he gave each of the bear children a penny to buy a popcorn ball. Bears are very fond of those sweet things, you know.

Well, while Neddie and Beckie were enjoying the popcorn balls, their papa had started to come home from where he worked in the bed factory, making nice fuzzy mattresses, fluffing them up with his sharp claws, for little bears to sleep on.

“I will go home a little early to-day,” said Mr. Stubtail, to himself, “and take Neddie and Beckie to a football game. They will enjoy that.”

Well, as he was walking along, thinking how funny it was for Mr. Whitewash, the polar bear gentleman, to put up a stovepipe and get all black—as Mr. Stubtail was thinking of this, I say—all of a sudden he heard some one crying:

“Help! Help! Oh, will no one help me?”

“Ha! Who can that be?” exclaimed Mr. Stubtail, looking all around, and thinking maybe it might be one of his own children, little Neddie or Beckie, in trouble.

But he could see no one, though the voice still cried out:

“Help! Oh, please help me!”

“I would help you if I could see you,” said Mr. Stubtail, looking up and down and sideways and even around the corner. Still he could see no one, and then the voice said:

“Here I am, right down by this board fence!”

Then Mr. Stubtail looked more closely, and he saw, crouched on the ground, at the bottom of a board fence, Jollie Longtail, the little boy mousie.

“Oh, there you are!” exclaimed Mr. Stubtail. “But why are you crying, Jollie, and why don’t you run away?”

“I can’t run away,” answered the mousie boy, “because my long tail is fast through a knot hole in the fence, and that is the reason I am crying.”

“Your tail fast through a knot hole in the fence?” exclaimed Mr. Stubtail. “Why, how did that happen?”

“Well, you see,” explained Jollie. “I was creeping along here, looking for a piece of cheese, when my tail slipped through the hole. And, before I knew it, another boy mousie named Snippy-Snoopy, who doesn’t like me, came along and tied a knot in my tail so I couldn’t pull it back through the hole again. And here I am held fast. Will you please untie the knot in my tail? I can’t reach it.”

“Oh course I will!” exclaimed the bear gentleman, and very gently, so as not to hurt Jollie, he untied the knot in the mousie boy’s tail, so Jollie could run along home.

“Oh, thank you so much!” he called to Mr. Stubtail, most politely. “And if ever I can do you a favor I will!”

Then Mr. Stubtail hurried on home, thinking how nice it would be to take Beckie and Neddie to the football game. And I guess Mr. Stubtail was in such a hurry that he did not notice where he was going for, all of a sudden, he stepped into a steel trap.

“Snap!” it went shut, catching him on the paw. And, oh! how it did hurt.

“My goodness me! Oh, dear! This is terrible!” cried Mr. Stubtail. “I am caught!”

He tried to pull his paw out but the more he pulled the worse it hurt, and he had to stop. Then he tried to lift up the trap in his other paw, thinking maybe he could carry it to the blacksmith shop and have it filed off. But the trap was fast to a tree by a big chain and Mr. Stubtail could not get it loose. There he was caught fast.

This is the sad part of the story. I’ll make it just as short as I can and get to the glad part.

Well, poor Mr. Stubtail stood there in the trap not knowing what to do. He thought he would never see his home again, or his wife, or Neddie, or Beckie, nor yet Mr. Whitewash and Aunt Piffy and Uncle Wigwag.

“Oh, dear!” sighed Mr. Stubtail. “What ever shall I do? Soon the hunter who put this trap here will come along and get me. Then it will be all up with Papa Stubtail.”

But just then he heard a little rustling in the dried leaves, and a tiny voice asked:

“Can I help you, Mr. Stubtail?”

The bear gentleman looked down and saw Jollie Longtail, the mousie boy, whose tail he had untied a little while ago.

“Oh, Jollie, it’s you, is it?” asked Mr. Stubtail. “No, I’m afraid you can’t help me. You see, this trap and chain are made of iron, and though you have very sharp little teeth to gnaw through wood, you can’t gnaw iron.”

“No,” said Jollie, “I can’t do that, but maybe I could go and get help for you.”

“So you can!” cried Mr. Stubtail, trying not to let the little mousie boy see how much pain he was in. “The very thing, Jollie. Run home and get Mr. Whitewash and Uncle Wigwag, and any one else you can, to come and get me out of this trap before the hunter comes.”

Away ran the mousie boy as fast as he could go. But it was a long way to the cave-house—not very far for a bear gentleman, perhaps, who can take long steps, but quite a distance for a little mouse chap.

“But I’ll get there in time!” cried Jollie. “I must save Mr. Stubtail, for he saved me. I’ll get there!”

Faster and faster he ran on. Once a bad fox tried to grab Jollie, but the mousie hid under a log until the fox had passed on. Again a big horned owl bird, with staring eyes, swooped down on him but Jollie dodged under a stone and the bird stubbed its beak, and didn’t get the mouse.

Then Jollie reached the cave-house and told what had happened to Mr. Stubtail.

Mrs. Stubtail was so excited that she nearly fainted and fell into a tub of water when she heard the news.

Aunt Piffy lost her breath completely this time, and it was several seconds before Jollie could run after it for her and bring it back.

“What!” cried Neddie, for he and Beckie had come home. “My papa in a trap!”

“Yes, and he needs help quickly!” cried Jollie.

“Then I’ll go get my uncle and Mr. Whitewash!” said Neddie. Off he rushed to find Uncle Wigwag and the polar bear gentleman. They also got Uncle Wiggily, and Gup, the kind, strong horse, and as many other animal gentlemen as they could, and back they hurried to where Mr. Stubtail was in the trap.

Together, with the help of a kind circus elephant, they pulled the trap open and the bear gentleman was free. Then they all hurried away before the hunter man, with his gun and dogs, could get them. Mr. Stubtail limped a little and was lame for some time, but that is better than staying forever in a trap.

When he got home his wife was out of the tub of water, and she and Aunt Piffy made some nice salve for Mr. Stubtail’s sore foot. Then they had a lovely supper with honey ice cream, and everybody was happy and they couldn’t do enough for Jollie Longtail. And this is the glad part of the story.

So this shows you that you should always untie a knot in a mousie’s tail if you can, for you never can tell when a mousie might help you.

And no more to-night, if you please, but very soon, if the milkman’s horse doesn’t come up on our front stoop and take our doormat to wipe his feet on, I’ll tell you about Mamma Stubtail’s honey cakes.

STORY XVIII
MAMMA STUBTAIL’S HONEY CAKES

“Oh, mamma!” cried little Neddie Stubtail, the bear cub, as he got ready to go to school one morning. “What is it that smells so good in your kitchen?”

“What smells so good?” spoke Mrs. Stubtail, the mamma bear. “Well, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the tea kettle boiling.”

“Oh, mamma, you’re joking just as Uncle Wigwag often does,” said Beckie, the little bear girl. “I, too, smell something good. Are you making candy?”