The Joyous Story of Toto Part 8

"No!" said Toto. "It's in a bucket, and you couldn't carry it, Cracker! I'll go and fetch it, while you and c.o.o.n are arranging your plan of action."

So away ran Toto, and the squirrel and the racc.o.o.n sat down to consult.

"The first thing to do," said c.o.o.n, "is to get the muskrat out of his hole. Now, my advice is this: do you go to Mrs. Bullfrog, and borrow an old overcoat of her husband's."

"Husband's dead," said the bear.

"That's no reason why his overcoat should be dead, stupid!" replied the racc.o.o.n. "It isn't likely that he was buried in his overcoat, and it isn't likely that she has cut it up for a riding-habit. Borrow the overcoat," he continued, turning to the squirrel again, "and put it on. Old Bullfrog was a very big fellow, and I think you can get it on. Then you can sit on a stone and whistle like a frog."

"I can't sit down in a frog's overcoat!" objected the squirrel. "I know I can't. It's not the right shape, and I don't sit down in that way. And I can't whistle like a frog either."

"Dear me!" said the racc.o.o.n peevishly. "What _can_ you do? I am sure _I_ could sit down in any coat I could wear at all. Well, then," he added after a pause, "you can _stand_ on a stone, and _look_ like a frog. I suppose you can do that?"

"I suppose so," said Cracker, dubiously.

"And Toto," continued the racc.o.o.n, "can hide himself in the reeds on one side of you, and I on the other. Toto whistles beautifully, and he can imitate Miss Bullfrog's voice to perfection. The muskrat will be sure to come up when he hears it, and the moment he pops his head out of the water, you can drop some tar on his nose, and _then_--"

"Then what?" asked the squirrel anxiously.

"I will attend to the rest of it," said c.o.o.n, with a wink. "See that I have cards to the Mud Turtle's wedding, will you? Here comes Toto," he added, "with tar enough to catch fifty muskrats. Off with you, Cracker, and ask the Widow Frog for the overcoat."

The squirrel disappeared among the bushes, and at the same time Toto came running up with the tar-bucket.

"Well," he said breathlessly, "is it all arranged? Oh! I ran all the way, and I am _so_ tired!" and he dropped down on a mossy seat, and fanned himself with his cap.

Bruin brought a piece of honeycomb to refresh him, and c.o.o.n told him the proposed plan, which delighted the boy greatly.

"And I am to do the whistling?" he exclaimed. "I must practise a bit, for I have not done any frog-whistling for some time." And with that he began to whistle in such a wonderfully frog-like way, that Bruin almost thought he must have swallowed a frog.

"How do you do that, Toto?" he asked. "I wish I could learn. You just purse your mouth up so, eh? Ugh! wah! woonk!" And the bear gave a series of most surprising grunts and growls, accompanied with such singular grimaces that both Toto and the racc.o.o.n rolled over on the ground in convulsions of laughter.

"My dear Bruin," cried Toto, as soon as he could regain a little composure, "I don't think--ha! ha! ha!--I really do _not_ think you will ever be mistaken for a frog."

"Ho! ho! ho!" cried the racc.o.o.n, bursting into another fit of laughter as he looked towards the mouth of the cave. "Look at Cracker. Oh, my eye! _will_ you look at Cracker? Oh, dear me! I shall certainly die if I laugh any more. Ho! ho!"

Bruin and Toto turned, and saw the squirrel hobbling in, dressed in a green frog-skin, and looking--well, did you ever see a squirrel in a frog-skin? No? Then you never saw the funniest thing in the world.

Poor Cracker, however, seemed to see no fun in it at all. "It's all very well for you fellows to laugh," he said ruefully. "I wonder how you would like to be pinched up in an abominable, ill-fitting thing like this? Ugh! I wouldn't be a frog for all the beechnuts in the world. Come on!" he added sharply. "Let us get the matter over, and have done with it. I can't stand this long."

Accordingly the three started off, leaving Bruin shaking his head and chuckling at the mouth of the cave.

Arrived at the pool, they stationed themselves as had been previously arranged: the squirrel on a large stone at the very edge of the pool, with the tar-bucket beside him; the racc.o.o.n crouching among the tall reeds on one side of the stone, while Toto lay closely hidden on the other, behind a clump of tall ferns.

When all was ready, Toto began to whistle. At first he whistled very softly, but gradually the notes swelled, growing clearer and shriller, till they seemed to fill the air.

Presently a ripple was seen in the clear water, and the sharp black nose of a muskrat appeared above the surface. "Lovely creature!"

exclaimed the muskrat. "Adored Miss Bullfrog, is it possible that you have changed your mind, and decided to listen to my suit?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'Oh, rapture!' cried the muskrat."]

"I have," said the squirrel softly.

"Oh, rapture!" cried the muskrat. "Come, then, at once with me! Let us fly, or rather swim, before your tyrannical parent discovers us! Leap down, my lovely one, with your accustomed grace and agility, into the arms of your faithful, your adoring muskrat! Come!"

"You must come a little nearer," whispered the squirrel coyly. "I want to be sure that it is _really_ you; such a sudden step, you know!

Please put your whole head out, my love, that I may be _quite_ sure of you!"

The eager muskrat thrust his head out of the water; and plump! the squirrel dropped the tar on the end of his nose.

The muskrat gave a wild shriek, and plunging his nose among the rushes on the bank, tried to rub off the tar. But, alas! the tar stuck to the rushes, and his nose stuck to the tar, and there he was!

At that instant the racc.o.o.n leaped from his hiding-place.

Toto, still concealed behind the clump of ferns, heard the noise of a violent struggle; then came several short squeaks; then a crunching noise; and then silence. Coming out from his hiding-place, he saw the racc.o.o.n sitting quietly on a stone, licking his chops, and smoothing his ruffled fur.

He smiled sweetly at Toto, and said, "It's all right, my boy! you whistled beautifully; couldn't have done it better myself!" (N. B.

c.o.o.n's whistling powers were nearly equal to those of the bear.)

"But where is the muskrat?" asked Toto, bewildered. "What have you done with him?"

"Eaten him, my dear!" replied c.o.o.n, benignly. "It is always the best plan in any case of this sort; saves trouble, you see, and prevents any further inquiry in the matter; besides, I was always taught in my youth never to waste anything. The flavor was not all I could have wished," he added, "and there was more or less stringiness; but what will not one do in the cause of friendship! Don't mention it, Cracker, my boy! I am sure you would have done as much for me. And now let us help you off with the overcoat of the late lamented Bullfrog; for to speak in perfect frankness, Cracker, it is _not_ what one would call becoming to your style of beauty."

CHAPTER VII.

On account of the woodchuck's illness, and at the special request of Pigeon Pretty, the story-telling was postponed for a day or two. Very soon, however, Chucky recovered sufficiently to ride as far as the cottage on Bruin's back; and on a fine afternoon the friends were all once more a.s.sembled, and waiting for Toto's story.

"I don't know any long stories," said Toto, "at least not well enough to tell them; so I will tell two short ones instead. Will that do?"

"Just as well," said the racc.o.o.n. "Five minutes for refreshments between the two, did you say? My view precisely."

Toto smiled, and began the story of

THE TRAVELLER, THE COOK, AND THE LITTLE OLD MAN.

Once upon a time there was a little old man who lived in a well. He was a very small little old man, and the well was very deep; and the only reason why he lived there was because he could not get out.

Indeed, what better reason could he have?

He had long white hair, and a long red nose, and a long green coat; and this was all he had in the world, except a three-legged stool, a large iron kettle, and a cook. There was not room in the well for the cook; so she lived on the ground above, and cooked the little old man's dinner and supper in the iron kettle, and lowered them down to him in the bucket; and the little old man sat on the three-legged stool, and ate whatever the cook sent down to him, with a cheerful heart, if it was good; and so things went on very pleasantly.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The old man thought it was raining."]

But one day it happened that the cook could not find anything for the old man's dinner. She looked high, and she looked low, but nothing could she find; so she was very unhappy; for she knew her master would be miserable if he had no dinner. She sat down by the well, and wept bitterly; and her tears fell into the well so fast that the little old man thought it was raining, and put up a red cotton umbrella, which he borrowed for the occasion. You may wonder where he borrowed it; but I cannot tell you, because I do not know.

Now, at that moment a traveller happened to pa.s.s by, and when he saw the cook sitting by the well and weeping, he stopped, and asked her what was the matter. So the cook told him that she was weeping because she could not find anything to cook for her master's dinner.