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Title: The Tale of Master Meadow Mouse
Author: Arthur Scott Bailey
Illustrator: Eleanor Fagan
Release Date: March 19, 2008 [EBook #24872]
Language: English
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The Tale of Master Meadow Mouse
[Illustration: Master Meadow Mouse gets on the raft]
The TALE of
MASTER
MEADOW
MOUSE
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_By_
ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY
AUTHOR OF
THE CUFFY BEAR BOOKS,
SLEEPY TIME TALES, ETC.
ILLUSTRATED BY
ELEANORE FAGAN
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS--NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY
GROSSET & DUNLAP
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I A FAT LITTLE FELLOW 1
II A PEEP AT THE WORLD 6
III THE KITTEN 11
IV A PLEASANT STRANGER 16
V MR. FROG INSISTS 21
VI MEETING MR. CROW 25
VII NOTHING BUT AIR 30
VIII MOSES MOUSE 35
IX MISS SNOOPER 40
X A HANDY SIGN 45
XI A CASTLE IN THE AIR 50
XII A MIDNIGHT FROLIC 55
XIII A MOONLIGHT RAID 60
XIV THE MASKED BANDIT 64
XV THE FLOOD 68
XVI ON THE RAFT 73
XVII A LUCKY ESCAPE 78
XVIII UNDER THE SNOW 83
XIX OWL FRIENDS 88
XX EATING A TREE 94
XXI A COLD DIP 100
XXII FISHING FOR MICE 105
XXIII MOVING DAY 110
XXIV MASTER OR MISTER? 115
The Tale of Master Meadow Mouse
[Illustration]
1
A Fat Little Fellow
MASTER MEADOW MOUSE was pudgy. His legs were so short and his tail was
so short and his ears were so short that he looked even fatter than he
really was. And goodness knows he was plump enough--especially toward
fall when the corn was ripe.
He lived in Farmer Green's meadow. And he never harmed anybody. For
Master Meadow Mouse was fat and good-natured.
Friendly folk, such as Paddy Muskrat and Billy Woodchuck, liked him
because he was good-natured. They always smiled pleasantly when they
spoke of him. And unfriendly folk, such as Peter Mink and Tommy Fox,
liked him because he was fat. When they mentioned him they always
grinned horribly and licked their lips.
Now, it was a pity that in Pleasant Valley, where Farmer Green's meadow
lay, there were many of the fat-loving kind. Not only Peter Mink and
Tommy Fox, but Grumpy Weasel, Solomon Owl, Ferdinand Frog, Henry Hawk
and even Miss Kitty Cat were usually on the watch for Master Meadow
Mouse. Naturally, he soon learned to be on the lookout for them. And if
he hadn't seen them first he would never have grown up to be _Mister_
Meadow Mouse.
In spite of all those enemies, Master Meadow Mouse managed to enjoy life
in Farmer Green's meadow. Usually he found plenty of seeds to eat. He
liked to swim in Broad Brook. And in winter, when the snow was deep, he
made tunnels beneath it, and a nest, too, which was snug and warm under
the thick white blanket that covered it.
The only time Master Meadow Mouse was ever known to lose his temper was
when Farmer Green mowed the meadow. Under the high grass Master Meadow
Mouse had been able to run about his well-beaten paths unseen by hawks.
But with the grass cut and raked, leaving only naked stubble, he
couldn't hide even from old Mr. Crow. It was no wonder that he agreed
with Bobby Bobolink's wife. The Bobolink family were so upset by haying
that they moved to Cedar Swamp at the very first clatter of the mowing
machine. And when Master Meadow Mouse bade them good-by Mrs. Bobolink
said to him, "What a shame that Farmer Green should break up a happy
home like ours!" And Master Meadow Mouse remarked that it was very
careless of Farmer Green. "He might have waited till the snow comes, at
least, before cutting the grass," said Master Meadow Mouse.
"You'd better move to Cedar Swamp with us," Mrs. Bobolink suggested.
"It's a fine place. I know, for we lived there last fall."
But Master Meadow Mouse didn't want to move.
"The grass will grow again," he explained. "Farmer Green can't stop the
grass from growing, no matter how often he cuts it." And of course that
was quite true.
After haying Master Meadow Mouse had to be more careful than ever. He
knew that the hawks would scan the meadow many times a day in hopes of
catching a glimpse of his reddish-brown back.
Luckily he succeeded in dodging them. And he dodged a good many other
fierce rascals long after winter with its snow had descended on Pleasant
Valley. Yet he never complained. He said that danger kept the days--and
nights too--from being dull.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
2
A Peep at the World
WHAT is the earliest thing you can remember? Master Meadow Mouse's
earliest memory was of lying in a soft nest of dried grasses. Sometimes
the nest was in inky darkness; and then it was night. Sometimes a shaft
of light fell upon the nest through a round hole just above his head;
and then it was daytime.
That round hole went upwards--straight upwards--for about a foot. And
when Master Meadow Mouse looked through it he could see, on pleasant
days, a patch of brilliant blue, which was a bit of sky.
One day a desire seized him to touch that round blue spot. So when his
mother was away he crawled up through the hole. But when he reached the
other end of it he found, to his great surprise, that the blue disk was
ever so much bigger than he had thought it, and seemed further away than
it had when he gazed at it through the round tunnel.
All this was very puzzling. And he stood in the meadow near the mouth of
the tunnel, peering around and wondering what this, that and the other
strange thing might be. For he saw many wonderful new sights.
If his mother hadn't come home and found him out of the nest there's no
telling what would have happened to him.
"Get back!" she cried, pushing him towards the mouth of the
tunnel--their doorway. "It's a mercy Henry Hawk hasn't spied you."
Master Meadow Mouse hung back. He didn't want to be hurried away from
the new world that he had just discovered.
"I don't see Henry Hawk," he squeaked.
Mrs. Meadow Mouse gave a sort of grunt.
"Humph! You wouldn't know him if you saw him," she retorted. "Besides,
he could see you long before you could see him, for his eyes are
wonderfully keen." Then she gave her son a poke that sent him into the
tunnel and bouncing down upon the soft nest at the bottom of it. "You
stay there until I come home again!" she called. "Do you want to go
where your two brothers and your three sisters went?"
Mrs. Meadow Mouse did not wait for her son's answer. She went off again
and left him to ponder over her question.
Master Meadow Mouse decided to mind his mother. Although he didn't know
what had become of his squirming companions, who had already begun to
crowd the nest, somehow his mother's query carried something of a
threat. He wondered if the mysterious Henry Hawk had had anything to do
with the vanishing of the rest of the children.
Master Meadow Mouse proved to be a hearty eater. And since he no longer
had to share with others the food that his mother brought home to him,
he grew fast. It wasn't long before Mrs. Meadow Mouse took him above
ground with her and let him play near home.
She taught him many things--how to find ripe seeds to eat, how to keep
still as a mouse and not squeak when there was danger of any kind, and
how to dodge into their tunnel when there was need.
Little by little Master Meadow Mouse wandered further from his own
dooryard. And he began to think that his mother was too careful. There
seemed to be no need of heeding all her warnings.
Then came the day when he met the kitten from the farmhouse.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
3
The Kitten
MASTER MEADOW MOUSE had rambled about the meadow without paying much
heed to safety. Although he still seemed to listen politely whenever his
mother gave him a lecture on dangerous birds or beasts, half the time he
didn't know what she was saying. He had decided that her fears were
foolish. He was sure that nothing could harm him.
He was thinking that very thought one day when he came face to face
suddenly with a huge, furry creature. At least the stranger seemed
terribly big in the eyes of Master Meadow Mouse, though it was only a
kitten belonging to Miss Kitty Cat, who lived at Farmer Green's house.
Like Master Meadow Mouse, the kitten was exploring the meadow. To her,
as to him, it was a new world.
It would be hard to say which of the two was the more surprised.
"Oh!" Master Meadow Mouse squeaked right out loud. "I--I--I wish I'd
stayed at home."
"Ho!" the kitten mewed. "I'm glad I came a-hunting."
The kitten sprang at Master Meadow Mouse. But when he didn't run she
stopped in her tracks and stared at him. She had expected him to flee,
as the mice at the farmhouse always did whenever a body met them.
"What's the matter with you?" the kitten asked him. "Don't you know that
you ought to run when I jump at you?"
Master Meadow Mouse made no reply. How could he know that the mice at
the farmhouse were ever so much sprier than he was and that they always
trusted to their legs to get them out of harm's way? His family had
always done differently. Unless there was a hole near-by, big enough for
them but too small for a pursuer, they had ever stood their ground when
attacked and fought while they could. Master Meadow Mouse knew no other
way. It was something that had been handed down to him along with his
short tail and his reddish-brown back.
Somehow, as she stood and gazed at Master Meadow Mouse the kitten
thought he was growing bigger every moment. She began to feel uneasy
about pouncing on him. It was one thing to clap a paw down on the back
of somebody that was running away from her. And it was an entirely
different matter to seize a person that didn't try to escape, but faced
her almost boldly.
"Hunting isn't so much fun as I expected," she muttered. For a moment or
two she was tempted to scamper back to the farmhouse. And then she
thought how pleased her mother would be if she brought that fat fellow
home in her mouth and laid him at her mother's feet--how pleased and how
proud!
To help her courage the kitten began to lash her tail, jerking it from
side to side as she had seen her mother move her own. And she crouched
her chubby body lower in the grass.
Then the kitten jumped. And the moment she was within his reach Master
Meadow Mouse gave her a smart nip on the nose with his sharp little
teeth.
The kitten squalled. And she backed hastily away. "You'd better run!"
she advised Master Meadow Mouse. "I shall not give you another chance!"
But he stood fast. And the kitten didn't give him another chance, either
to run from her, or to bite her nose again. She fell into a sudden panic
and bounded awkwardly away toward the farmhouse.
And then Master Meadow Mouse ran. He ran home as fast as he could go.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
4
A Pleasant Stranger
THE whole Meadow Mouse family enjoyed swimming. They liked to live near
water. That was why they made their home in the low meadow, where Broad
Brook ran deeper and more quietly than in the hillside pasture. And
Black Creek, too, was near-by. So the Meadow Mouse family never had to
travel far when they wanted a cool dip.
Almost as soon as he was able to wander about the meadow alone Master
Meadow Mouse began to swim. He didn't have to be taught, any more than
he had to be taught how to walk. Swimming came to him as easily as
eating. And his mother never worried about his being drowned. But when
he went for his first swim in Black Creek Mrs. Meadow Mouse couldn't
help feeling a bit anxious.
"Look out!" she warned her son. "Look out for the Pickerel tribe!
They're the most dangerous fish in the creek."
"Yes!" said Master Meadow Mouse. "I know that. I've been told about them
already."
"You have!" his mother exclaimed. "Who told you?"
"A greenish gentleman with a very wide smile and queer, bulging eyes,"
Master Meadow Mouse replied.
"That's Ferdinand Frog!" Mrs. Meadow Mouse cried. "He's as dangerous as
any Pickerel that ever swam. Where did you meet him?"
"I stood on the bank of the creek one day and saw him among the lily
pads," her son explained. "We had quite a long talk together.... I
forgot to mention it to you," he added.
The news made Mrs. Meadow Mouse turn slightly pale. She shuddered
although the day was warm; for she feared and detested Ferdinand Frog.
"Don't ever go near that slippery villain!" she warned her son. "If you
ever see him when you are swimming in the creek, make for the shore at
once."
Now, Master Meadow Mouse sometimes thought that he knew more than his
mother, about certain matters. And he was inclined to take her advice
lightly.
"Ferdinand Frog was very pleasant when I met him," he remarked. "He
cracked jokes. And he laughed at them himself."
"Oh, he's pleasant enough," Mrs. Meadow Mouse agreed. "He'd grin and
swallow you at the same time with that great mouth of his. That's what
makes him so dangerous."
"Well, he's a fine swimmer, anyhow," her son declared.
"Another reason why you should avoid him!" his mother retorted.
"You ought to see him dive," said Master Meadow Mouse. "He promised to
teach me to dive if I'd join him in the water."
"It's a mercy you didn't,". Mrs. Meadow Mouse gasped. "I'm glad you had
sense enough to stay on the bank."
"Oh, I knew better than to take a swim in the creek that day," Master
Meadow Mouse said. "The Pickerel family were nosing about among the
pickerel weeds around the bend of the creek. I saw them myself. And Mr.
Frog told me I ought to beware of them. He was very anxious--so he
said--about me and the Pickerel. He said he didn't want them to catch
me. He was very kind, I thought."
"Kind!" Mrs. Meadow Mouse spluttered. "He didn't want them to catch you
because he hopes to catch you himself!"
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
5
Mr. Frog Insists
MASTER MEADOW MOUSE had come to Black Creek to enjoy his first swim in
its dark, sluggish water. But when he arrived on the bank he changed his
mind about swimming there that day. For whom should he see but Ferdinand
Frog, sitting on a rock at the edge of the creek.
For once Master Meadow Mouse was ready to take his mother's advice. She
had told him to beware of Ferdinand Frog and never, never, never to
enter the water when that pleasant gentleman was in it.
Ferdinand Frog proved to be as agreeable as ever. When he caught sight
of Master Meadow Mouse Mr. Frog bade him a hearty good morning in a
deep voice which was vastly different from the tiny squeak of the small
person on the bank.
"You've come for a swim--haven't you?" said Ferdinand Frog.
Master Meadow Mouse admitted that he _had_ intended to swim. But he
explained that the water looked wetter than usual and he thought he'd
wait till another day. "Besides," he added, "the sun has gone under a
cloud and my suit wouldn't dry quickly enough."
"Come right in and have your swim!" Mr. Frog urged him. "You can change
your clothes as soon as you get home."
"Oh, no--I can't," said Master Meadow Mouse.
"Why not?" Mr. Frog asked him.
"Because I haven't any more!"
"Now, that's a pity," Ferdinand Frog told him. "A handsome youngster
like you ought to have a best suit to wear on special occasions."
Master Meadow Mouse looked interested.
"I'd like a nice new suit," he replied. "But where am I going to get
it?"
"You've come to the right place!" Mr. Frog cried. "Maybe you didn't know
that I'm a tailor. I'll make you a new suit myself!"
"That's very kind of you," said Master Meadow Mouse a bit doubtfully.
"But I don't know how I could pay you."
The tailor laughed merrily.
"Don't you worry about that!" he exclaimed. "I'll get my pay somehow.
And now you must come to my shop at once. I want to take your measure."
Mr. Meadow Mouse shook his head.
"No!" he told Mr. Frog. "I'm not going to your shop. I'm not going a
single step nearer to you than I am now. I've taken _your_ measure
already, Mr. Frog. I know your game. And you can't catch me that way."
For once Ferdinand Frog forgot to laugh. He was so surprised that his
mouth fell wide open as he stared at Master Meadow Mouse.
He had an enormous mouth. Master Meadow Mouse shivered slightly as he
looked down Mr. Frog's throat.
The tailor closed his mouth almost immediately. For a huge pickerel came
nosing among the lily pads. And spying Mr. Frog, he at once darted
towards him.
Mr. Frog swam off in great haste.
"That Pickerel person," said Mr. Meadow Mouse aloud, "means to take Mr.
Frog's measure if he can."
[Illustration]
6
Meeting Mr. Crow
DURING his first summer in Pleasant Valley Master Meadow Mouse had often
noticed old Mr. Crow flying from the woods to the cornfield. Once in a
while Mr. Crow dropped down into the meadow on some business or other.
But Master Meadow Mouse did not fear him. The grass was high in the
meadow, screening the goings and comings of Master Meadow Mouse from
prying eyes.
But after haying time the meadow was a different place. There was no
cover over Master Meadow Mouse's paths. He had to be watchful all the
time, because Henry Hawk had an unpleasant habit of sailing high up in
the sky and dropping down like lightning when he saw anybody like Master
Meadow Mouse stirring.
Old Mr. Crow continued to journey daily between the cornfield and the
woods. But Master Meadow Mouse paid little heed to him. He believed Mr.
Crow to be harmless, so long as he didn't catch small folk in the
cornfield. The old gentleman was very touchy about corn. He flew into a
rage when anybody but himself ate even one kernel.
Though Master Meadow Mouse would have liked a taste of corn as much as
anybody else, he was careful to keep away from the cornfield in the
daytime. He didn't wish to bring down Mr. Crow's wrath upon his small
head.
"Never let Mr. Crow catch you taking any corn!" Mrs. Meadow Mouse had
told her son during one of the daily lessons that she gave him. "If you
must have corn, wait until after sunset. Mr. Crow goes to bed early."
Now, it happened that just before haying time Mrs. Meadow Mouse had
stopped giving her son lessons. She said that she had told him
everything she knew. She had told him everything at least a hundred
times. And she declared that if he hadn't learned what he needed to
know, he never would.
Mrs. Meadow Mouse, however, had forgotten one thing--one very important
thing. There was a little trick of old Mr. Crow's that she had never
mentioned to her son.
So it wasn't his fault that he was caught unawares one day, soon after
Farmer Green cut the grass in the meadow.
Master Meadow Mouse was tripping homewards one day, after a little
excursion. He was traveling fast, for he felt, amidst the short stubble,
as if all the world were watching him. And he kept a sharp eye cocked
upwards at the sky, lest Henry Hawk should surprise him. Besides, he had
heard the _boom_ of a bittern that morning. And the day before he had
seen a butcher-bird skimming low over the meadow.
Those two, he knew, were every bit as dangerous as Henry Hawk.
You see, Master Meadow Mouse had learned to expect birds to descend upon
him from the air. It had never occurred to him that a bird would lurk on
the ground, in wait for him. So he had a sudden fright, almost at his
doorway, when he ran plump upon a big black person standing behind a
knoll.
[Illustration: Master Meadow Mouse ran plump into old Mr. Crow]
It was old Mr. Crow. And Master Meadow Mouse thought he had an odd
glitter in his snapping eyes.
"I--I haven't been taking any corn," Master Meadow Mouse stammered.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
7
Nothing but Air
OLD Mr. Crow didn't say a single word when Master Meadow Mouse met him
face to face in the meadow. But a wicked glitter in Mr. Crow's eyes
warned Master Meadow Mouse that there was trouble ahead for him.
If the hole leading to his home hadn't been close at hand there's no
telling what would have happened to him. Anyhow, just as Mr. Crow lunged
at him, with a wild flapping of his broad wings, Master Meadow Mouse
slipped to one side and whisked through his doorway.
Old Mr. Crow coughed hoarsely.
"What's your hurry?" he cried. "I've been waiting around here for you
for a long while. Can't you spend a few moments of your valuable time
with me!"
Now, it was true that the old gentleman had been lingering in the
neighborhood. The corn wasn't quite ripe enough to suit him. So he had
decided to go a-mousing that morning.
His way of hunting, however, was not like that of other birds. Mr. Crow
chose to do his hunting afoot. He was too wise to waste any effort
looking for mice when the grass was high. But after haying he had often
gone a-mousing in years past. And he had found the sport to be quite
worth while. Stalking about the close cropped meadow he had surprised
many distant cousins of Master Meadow Mouse who never returned home to
tell the story of their meetings with the black scamp. Maybe Mr. Crow
was getting slow in his old age. He had never come so near to catching a
Meadow Mouse before, only to be disappointed. It was no wonder that he
felt peevish.
At first Master Meadow Mouse did not answer Mr. Crow when the old
gentleman called down the tunnel that led to the nest beneath the sod.
But soon Master Meadow Mouse remembered that Mr. Crow could get no more
than his bill inside the hole. And then Master Meadow Mouse found his
voice again.
"I don't want to go above ground," he said. "Can't you talk to me, where
I am?"
"It's not easy to do that," Mr. Crow grumbled. "I have to speak too
loud; and my voice is hoarse to-day."
"Stick your bill into my tunnel as far as it will go," Master Meadow
Mouse suggested. "Then you won't have to shout. I could hear a whisper
if you'd do as I say."
Old Mr. Crow thrust his bill down the hole.
"I don't like this," he croaked. "I can't see you."
"That's because you're shutting out all the light," Master Meadow Mouse
explained.
"I doubt it," said Mr. Crow angrily. "I believe you've drawn a curtain
across the other end of this tunnel. And I can't talk to anybody through
a curtain. I _refuse_ to injure my voice trying to talk with anybody
that won't give me a more friendly welcome when I call on him."
"Talk away!" Master Meadow Mouse urged his caller. "There's nothing
between us to keep me from hearing you. Nothing but a foot of air!"
"Ah!" Mr. Crow cried. "I _knew_ you had something in that tunnel. Remove
the air at once, sir, or I'll go away and leave you."
"If his bill wasn't so hard--if it was as soft as the Kitten's nose--I'd
bite it," Master Meadow Mouse thought.
And while he was thinking, all at once a shaft of light trickled inside
his house. Old Mr. Crow had gone grumbling on his way.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
8
Moses Mouse
MASTER MEADOW MOUSE felt ill at ease. Now that the grass had been cut
from the meadow he began to think he didn't care to live there any
longer. After his adventure with old Mr. Crow, Master Meadow Mouse
scarcely dared stray from his dooryard in the daytime. Anybody, almost,
could see him as he crept through the stubble.
At night he ventured further from home. And once he went even as far as
the farmyard.
To his surprise he found that the grass in Farmer Green's yard was
longer than he had ever seen it. Earlier in the summer, when Master
Meadow Mouse visited that spot, he had been afraid to cross the lawn
because it was clipped so short. But now he could creep through the
thick green carpet and nobody could see him, unless a waving grass blade
happened to catch somebody's eye. Everybody at the farmhouse had been
too busy with haying to spend any time running a lawn mower.
Why not move to the farmyard? The thought came into Master Meadow
Mouse's head. It seemed to him that the farmyard would be a fine place
to live. There was grain scattered here and there, where somebody had
fed the hens. There was the duck pond near-by, when he wanted a swim.
"I'll come!" Master Meadow Mouse decided. "I'll come--if I can find a
good place for a nest."
Thereupon he began to look about for a site for his new home. And it
wasn't long before he had found one that suited him. When he saw the
woodpile he squeaked with delight.
"The very place!" he cried. "I'll begin to built my nest to-night."
So he set to work. He carried dead leaves and dried grass to the
woodpile and started to make a snug home for himself in a space between
the logs, well inside the heap of wood. And he had just crept from a
chink and stood under the stars when a tiny voice greeted him with a
cry, "What ho, stranger!"
Master Meadow Mouse looked around. And there on a stick of wood just
behind him was a plump gray person. The newcomer looked the least bit
like Master Meadow Mouse himself, except that his tail was ever so much
longer.
"I'm Moses Mouse and I live in the farmhouse," said the gray gentleman.
"I'm Master Meadow Mouse and I'm going to live in this woodpile," said
the reddish-brown chap in reply.
"That's good news," Moses Mouse remarked. "But you must look out for
Miss Snooper," he added.
"Who is she?" Master Meadow Mouse asked his new friend.
"Miss Snooper--" Moses Mouse explained--"Miss Snooper is our name for
Miss Kitty Cat. She lives in the farmhouse. And when she isn't indoors
she's usually prowling about the yard."
To the great astonishment of Moses Mouse, the short-tailed stranger
seemed in no wise startled by his news.
"Huh!" Master Meadow Mouse exclaimed. "If this Miss Snooper--as you
call her--bothers me, I'll serve her as I did one of her kittens."
"What did you do to the kitten?" Moses Mouse inquired with great
interest.
"I bit her nose," said Master Meadow Mouse.
Moses Mouse gazed at him with horror.
"Don't try that on the old lady!" he cried. "If you do, you'll be
sorry."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
9
Miss Snooper
MOSES MOUSE, who lived in the farmhouse, had warned Master Meadow Mouse.
He had warned him to look out for Miss Snooper's nose.
Master Meadow Mouse did not pay any great attention to his new friend's
advice. He was building himself a new home in Farmer Green's woodpile.
And he went about his work as if there wasn't a cat within a hundred
miles.
Then, one day, he caught a glimpse of Miss Snooper. He peeped out from a
chink in the woodpile and saw her sitting on a stick of wood. She was so
near him that Master Meadow Mouse could have leaped upon her back in
one spring.
But he didn't do that. He gazed at her with round eyes, for Miss Snooper
looked very fierce, especially when she opened her mouth and showed her
sharp teeth as she yawned. Master Meadow Mouse saw that she was a quite
different creature from the awkward kitten whom he had bitten on the
nose earlier in the summer.
"Goodness!" thought Master Meadow Mouse, staring at Miss Snooper with
great awe. "Goodness! Her whiskers are longer than mine!"
And then he drew back very softly and crept to his nest in the woodpile.
That night Moses Mouse came to make another call. And he brought his
wife with him, so that she might see the stranger with the short tail
who was going to live in Farmer Green's woodpile.
"I saw Miss Snooper to-day," Master Meadow Mouse told them.
"Did you bite her nose?" Mrs. Mouse asked him eagerly; for her husband
had told her all about the newcomer.
"No!" said Master Meadow Mouse. "No! I was too busy, building my new
home, to stop and bite her."
"Isn't he brave!" whispered Mrs. Moses Mouse to her husband.
From where they sat, on the top of the woodpile, Master Meadow Mouse and
his callers caught sight of a dark shape that moved stealthily towards
them through the shadows.
"It's Miss Snooper herself!" Mrs. Mouse cried. And quick as a wink she
dived down among the sticks of wood, with her husband following close
behind her.
"Probably Master Meadow Mouse will bite Miss Snooper's nose this time,"
she said to Moses, when she had reached a safe retreat.
"He isn't biting it now," Moses Mouse replied, "because he's crowding
right behind me."
"Miss Snooper has come," Mrs. Mouse said to Master Meadow Mouse. "Maybe
you didn't understand that it was she."
"Let her come!" Master Meadow Mouse squeaked.
"Isn't he brave!" Mrs. Moses Mouse murmured.
"I'll bite her nose if she sticks it into this crevice," Master Mouse
declared.
"Isn't he brave!" she breathed into her husband's ear.
"I'm not so sure of that," said Moses Mouse in an undertone. "He _talks_
a good deal about nose-biting. I should like to see him _do_ it. I knew
Miss Snooper was skulking around the yard to-night. That's why I came
to call on this chap. I wanted to see whether he'd fight or run."
Meanwhile Miss Snooper climbed all over the woodpile. She could hear
faint squeaks somewhere. And she was almost frantic because she couldn't
squirm under the wood and find whoever was talking.
It was almost morning before Moses Mouse and his wife dared to steal
back to the farmhouse. When they left the woodpile Master Meadow Mouse
left it too. He had decided, during the night, that he wouldn't live in
the farmyard.
"I've become very tired of this old Cat," he told his companions--Mr.
and Mrs. Moses Mouse. "I shouldn't care to stay where I had to see her
often."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
10
A Handy Sign
HUNTING played a great part in the life of Master Meadow Mouse. Somebody
or other was always hunting him. And he was always hunting for something
to eat. He spent a good deal of his time away from home, looking for
seeds and grain. On the other hand, he spent a good deal of his time in
his house; for Master Meadow Mouse liked to take naps--especially in the
daytime.
After he started to live in Farmer Green's woodpile, but moved away from
it before he had finished building his nest there, Master Meadow Mouse
settled near the fence between the meadow and the pasture. The mowing
machine hadn't cut the weeds and grass that grew close to the fence. He
found shelter there from the sharp eyes of birds that would have caught
him had they been able to.
This time Master Meadow Mouse didn't live underground. He made a sort of
little hut for himself, which kept out the cold in chilly weather, and
shed the rain when it didn't pour down too hard.
It was a good home. But it had one drawback. If anybody came along when
its owner was asleep in it--Well, Master Meadow Mouse didn't like to
think about that. The little nest at the end of the tunnel where he had
once lived had been far safer.
"I know what I'll do!" he cried at last, as a happy thought came to him.
"I'll hang a sign outside my door."
He set to work. And soon he had printed a sign. On one side of this was
the notice, "Gone to Lunch. Back To-morrow." And on the other side were
the words, "At Home. Don't Knock. Walk In."
"There!" said Master Meadow Mouse as he stood off a few paces and looked
at his handiwork. "That ought to do the trick."
Then he hung the sign outside his door and went into his house to enjoy
a nap. And the side of the sign that was turned outward said, "Gone to
Lunch. Back To-morrow."
Master Meadow Mouse slept late into the afternoon. And towards sunset,
while he was still asleep, Tommy Fox slipped through the pasture fence.
"Hullo!" he murmured softly as his eyes fell on Master Meadow Mouse's
dwelling. "Here's a bit of luck. I smell a Mouse. And he must be taking
a nap inside his house."
Tommy Fox crept closer to the little hut. Then all at once he
straightened up with a look of displeasure on his sharp face. He had
just noticed the sign.
"He's away from home!" Tommy exclaimed. "That's a pity. He can't have
been gone long. Maybe I can catch him near-by."
But he couldn't find Master Meadow Mouse anywhere. He looked all
around--except inside the shelter where Master Meadow Mouse was fast
asleep.
Tommy Fox came back and read the sign once more.
"Back To-morrow," he muttered. "Very well! I'll come back here
to-morrow. For that's what the sign tells me to do."
And the next day he returned. He grinned from ear to ear as he read what
the sign said: "At Home. Don't Knock. Walk In." Then he thrust his long,
sharp nose right through Master Meadow Mouse's doorway.
There was nobody there. And Tommy Fox looked silly as anything.
"Fooled!" he growled. "Fooled by a Meadow Mouse! I hope nobody ever
finds it out."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
11
A Castle in the Air
IT seemed as if Master Meadow Mouse was always moving. Perhaps the
pleasantest move he ever made was when he went to the cornfield to live.
When autumn came Farmer Green shocked the corn. All over the field
bundles of cornstalks stood in rows, like soldiers. And what suited
Master Meadow Mouse especially was the ripe ears in the shocks, which
Farmer Green had not yet gathered.
For some weeks past Master Meadow Mouse had been living in a rude
shelter, which he had built for himself near the fence between the
pasture and the meadow. Though he had been quite comfortable there
during the hot weather, there were days, now, when a chilly wind swept
through Pleasant Valley and made him shiver slightly as he thought of
the frosts which his neighbors told him were on the way.
He had made up his mind to seek some snugger home. But not until he saw
what Farmer Green was doing with the cornstalks did Master Meadow Mouse
decide on his new dwelling.
"What a fine idea of Farmer Green's!" he cried, when he first looked
upon the shocked corn. "I never dreamed that he had been raising corn to
make homes for our family." He changed his opinion of Farmer Green.
Master Meadow Mouse had been much upset when Farmer Green cut the grass
in the meadow at haying time. All the birds in the air could see him
whenever he crossed the bare field. Now, however, he forgot his
displeasure in the joy that Farmer Green's latest move gave him.
That night Master Meadow Mouse crept into the cornfield. The round,
yellow harvest moon shone down on the field, bathing the shocks of corn
in a flood of light and making the pumpkins that lay on every side look
almost as golden as they appeared under the midday sun.
Master Meadow Mouse was surprised to find that many of his cousins had
had the same happy thought about moving that had come to him. He met
dozens of the big Meadow Mouse family that night. And every one of them
was intent on picking out a shock of corn to live in.
Luckily there were shocks enough for all--and more. And no disputes
arose. Some wanted to settle near the fence. Some preferred to live in
the middle of the field. Many decided to make their new homes near Broad
Brook, so they could enjoy a swim now and then without having to travel
far to get to the water.
Master Meadow Mouse was one of the best swimmers. He found a huge shock
that stood near the bank of the brook. Crawling through it, he
discovered at least two dozen ears of ripe corn there.
"I won't look any further," he exclaimed. "Here's food enough to last
for months, all stored for me and ready to be eaten whenever I'm
hungry."
Then he set to work. And high in the top of the shock he made himself a
nest of dry husks, which he stripped off some of the ears.
It was an easy matter to build that home. Everything that he needed was
right at hand. And it was no time at all before Master Meadow Mouse had
his house in order. Then he was ready for a nap. But first he made a
hearty meal of corn because--as he said--he always slept better on a
full stomach.
As he settled himself at last in his new quarters, just before he dozed
off Master Meadow Mouse murmured happily to himself.
"I never thought," he said, "that I'd sleep in a castle in the air."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
12
A Midnight Frolic
MASTER MEADOW MOUSE had always been pudgy. Before he went to the
cornfield to live he had been fat enough. And after he had spent two
weeks in and out of his new nest in the cornshock he was a sight to see.
His sides bulged. And he had a look as if his skin weren't big enough
for him.
Life had become very easy for Master Meadow Mouse. He didn't even have
to leave home to get all the corn he could eat. He simply crept out of
his nest, and right there in his cornshock he had two dozen ears of ripe
corn. He didn't need to set foot to the ground, unless he wanted a
drink.
Of course Master Meadow Mouse wasn't content to stay at home morning,
noon and night. He scampered away whenever he pleased. Sometimes he went
for a swim in Broad Brook. Sometimes he visited his cousins, who dwelt
in other shocks in the cornfield. And every night he joined the big
Meadow Mouse family in a frolic. They chased one another around the
pumpkins that strewed the ground, dodged behind the shocked corn, or ran
along the rail fence.
During the daytime Master Meadow Mouse and his companions lay low. When
they went abroad they kept a close watch for Mr. Crow. Late as it was,
the old gentleman still lingered in Pleasant Valley. Although his
cronies had started on their yearly journey to the South, he let it be
known that he was expecting to spend the winter in the North.
"I've noticed signs," he had said, "that tell me we're going to have a
mild winter."
Whenever Mr. Crow visited the cornfield, the Meadow Mouse family
hastened to hide. They didn't try to go to their own homes, but plunged
inside the nearest shocks of corn.
Mr. Crow was far from stupid. He knew what was going on right under his
nose--or his bill. Flapping towards the cornfield from the woods he
could see a great scurrying of small, reddish-brown persons. But when he
settled down in the field there was never a Meadow Mouse anywhere in
sight.
"They're stealing corn!" the old gentleman spluttered. "I'd stop them if
I could. But what can I do when they hide the moment they see me
coming?"
The old fellow pondered over the question.
"Somebody," he said, "will have to tear these shocks apart in order to
catch the Meadow Mouse people. And I don't know anyone that could do it
better than Fatty Coon."
Now, Mr. Crow knew where Fatty Coon lived, in a hollow tree in Cedar
Swamp. And he actually started to fly over to the Swamp and ask Fatty
Coon to rid the cornfield of the Meadow Mouse family.
But on the way to Cedar Swamp Mr. Crow happened to think of something.
He happened to think that Fatty Coon had an enormous appetite and was
very fond of corn.
Mr. Crow suddenly veered off his straight course and alighted in a tree.
"That will never do," he croaked. "Fatty would eat more than all the
Meadow Mice in Pleasant Valley."
Little did Mr. Crow know that Fatty Coon was already planning to visit
the cornfield as soon as it grew dark.
Nor did Master Meadow Mouse and his cousins guess that they were to have
an unwelcome guest that night.
As usual, after dark they poured out of their castles in the air to
enjoy their nightly frolic. And they were having what they called "high
jinks" when the word went around to hide.
For somebody squeaked in a frightened voice: "Fatty Coon is crawling
through the pasture fence!"
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
13
A Moonlight Raid
THE Meadow Mouse party, in the cornfield, vanished as if by magic. Not
one of the merrymakers lingered an instant after hearing that Fatty Coon
was entering the field. And since Master Meadow Mouse happened to be
near the shock where he lived, he ran up it in a twinkling and crept
inside it, to curl up in his nest and try to catch forty winks.
He felt safe enough. Hadn't old Mr. Crow come to the cornfield every
day? _He_ had never even poked into a shock to disturb Master Meadow
Mouse or one of his cousins. Mr. Crow had eaten corn, to be sure. But
he hadn't bothered anybody. And now Master Meadow Mouse thought that as
soon as Fatty Coon had stuffed himself with corn he would stroll back to
Cedar Swamp.
Master Meadow Mouse had fallen into a doze when a sharp rustle waked
him.
"Ho, ho!" he chuckled. "There's Fatty Coon now! He's pulling an ear of
corn off my shock. Well, I don't believe I'll miss it. There's corn
enough in this field for everybody."
Master Meadow Mouse tried to go to sleep again.
"I wish Fatty Coon wouldn't make so much noise," said Master Meadow
Mouse, grumbling a little because he was very drowsy and didn't like to
be disturbed.
"There!" he exclaimed after a few moments. "He's gone, thank goodness!"
But Fatty Coon had only carried his ear of corn to Broad Brook, to wash
it before he gobbled the kernels. He was very particular to wash almost
everything he ate. But that was about the only way in which he was
fussy. There was nothing, almost, that he wouldn't bolt greedily.
After he had devoured the first ear of corn, Fatty Coon went back and
pulled another off the same shock.
Again he roused Master Meadow Mouse from his slumbers.
"He's at it again!" Master Meadow Mouse complained. "I wish he'd go to
some other shock."
The third time that Fatty Coon wrenched an ear of corn from the shock
where Master Meadow Mouse lived he paused and cocked an ear towards the
top of the shock.
"Was that a squeak?" he asked himself. And then he sniffed. "Ha!" he
cried. "Do I smell a Meadow Mouse?"
Fatty Coon was not mistaken. When he rustled the dried cornstalks the
third time, Master Meadow Mouse had cried right out in his sleep. And he
waked up just soon enough to hear Fatty Coon's remarks.
"Maybe you do smell a Meadow Mouse," he replied under his breath, so
Fatty Coon couldn't hear him. "But it won't do you any good; for I'm not
coming out of my castle until you go away."
It soon appeared that Fatty Coon did not intend to leave. For Fatty
began to pull at the cornstalks with his claws. Although Farmer Green
had bound the stalks together tightly, one by one Fatty tore them loose
and let them fall upon the ground.
And inside the shock Master Meadow Mouse suddenly started up in alarm.
[Illustration]
14
The Masked Bandit
IT was no wonder that Master Meadow Mouse was startled. He cowered
inside his nest in the top of the shock of corn. The whole shock shook.
There was a terrible rustle of dry leaves as Fatty Coon tore away stalk
after stalk.
"Old Mr. Crow never did this!" Master Meadow Mouse stammered. "He never
disturbed my rest. But this awful Fatty Coon means to catch me. And I
don't know what to do."
Meanwhile Fatty Coon was muttering horribly to himself as he worked.
"This fellow must be fat," he grunted, as he wrenched at a stubborn
stalk with claws and teeth. "With all this corn to feast on he must be
in fine trim. Mm! He ought to be just right to top off a good meal of
corn."
"My goodness!" Master Meadow Mouse gasped. "How annoying! He intends to
eat me!"
For a few moments Master Meadow Mouse wondered whether he ought to fight
or run. "I wish," he thought, "that I'd brought my old sign with me when
I moved to this new home. If I had hung it outside my door Fatty Coon
wouldn't have bothered me. When he read that notice, 'Gone to lunch.
Back To-morrow,' he would have shuffled off about his business." But
idle thoughts and wishes were of no use at a time like that. Master
Meadow Mouse soon realized that he must act--and act quickly.
"Maybe I'll bite his nose," he said to himself. "But I want to peep at
him first."
So Master Meadow Mouse left his nest and crept a short distance until he
could peer out from a chink between two cornstalks. In the moonlight he
had a fine view of Fatty Coon. And as he stared at the intruder Meadow
Mouse shuddered.
"No!" he exclaimed. "No! I never could fight him. I wouldn't dare bite
his nose. He's far, far too big for me to tackle."
There was no denying that Fatty Coon looked both huge and dangerous.
Across his face was a black mask which only added to his horrid
appearance. And through the mask his eyes shone green and greedy right
into the frightened ones of Master Meadow Mouse.
One good look was enough for Master Meadow Mouse. He drew back
hurriedly. Through his mind there flashed a saying of his mother's that
he had not thought of for a long time: "He that fights and runs away
will live to fight another day."
"I'll run first," Master Meadow Mouse decided. "Then perhaps I shan't
have to fight at all."
Then he stole out of the shock of corn, on the opposite side. And when
Fatty Coon pawed his way through to the nest he found it empty.
He gave a wail of anger and dismay.
"He's gone! The Meadow Mouse has gone!" Fatty bawled. "And I'll warrant
he was a fat one, too. It's always the fattest ones that get away. And
nobody can deny that this one was living high."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
15
The Flood
"THIS means another move for me," said Master Meadow Mouse. Fatty Coon
had broken into the house in the shock of corn where Master Meadow Mouse
had been living. And Master Meadow Mouse had fled.
Somehow he felt that a change of scene would be good for him. Although
he had dwelt but a short time in the cornfield, he had no longer any
desire to stay there. For Fatty Coon had given him a great fright. There
was no denying that.
"It seems as if I were always moving," Master Meadow Mouse mused. "It's
lucky for me the world is wide. Thank goodness there's plenty of places
left where I can go. I've tried the meadow, Farmer Green's woodpile, the
tangle beside the pasture fence and the cornfield. And now--now let me
see! I believe I'll settle along Black Creek, under the bank."
He was talking with Long Bill Wren, who had a nest in a marshy spot near
the creek.
"Oh, don't make yourself a home under the bank!" Long Bill cried. "The
fall rains will come soon. The creek is sure to rise. And then where
will you be?"
"I'll be in the water, I suppose," Master Meadow Mouse answered.
"Correct!" said Long Bill Wren. "And you want to avoid that. Maybe
you've noticed that my wife and I built our nest off the ground. We
fasten it to the reeds so we'll be dry, no matter if there's a freshet
in midsummer."
"Ah!" Master Meadow Mouse exclaimed with a smile. "I see you don't like
water as much as I do. The fall rains won't trouble me. If the creek
rises as high as my house it will be all the more fun."
Long Bill Wren gave him an odd look.
"You're a queer one," he remarked. "Anyhow, you can't say I didn't warn
you. If there's a flood when the fall rains come, and you get drowned
out, you can't say it's my fault."
"Certainly not!" cried Master Meadow Mouse. "And I thank you for your
kind advice. But I'm not going to be drowned out. I can swim."
Long Bill Wren shook his head.
"I hope you'll escape," he said. "I shall not be here to know whether
you do or not. For we're starting for the South to-morrow. But I hope
to find you safe and sound next May, when I return." And then he went
home, to tell his wife that Master Meadow Mouse was a very daring young
fellow.
Master Meadow Mouse built himself a house under the bank of Black Creek.
And later the rain fell heavily for several days and nights, just as
Long Bill Wren had expected. The creek rose fast. Yet Master Meadow
Mouse didn't worry. When the water lapped at his doorway he only
laughed. And when it caught at his house and bore it downstream Master
Meadow Mouse held his fat sides and roared.
The flood brought much rubbish with it. But Master Meadow Mouse saw
nothing that took his fancy until at last a floating board caught his
eye.
Master Meadow Mouse swam out to it and scrambled upon it.
"Hurrah!" he squeaked as the board carried him along with the current.
"This is fine! I've got a raft. And I'll go a-traveling."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
16
On the Raft
A BOARD was floating along on the swollen waters of Black Creek. On it
sat Master Meadow Mouse. He was very happy. He was having his first
ride, of any sort.
"This raft--" he said to himself proudly--"this raft belongs to me. I'll
be a traveler. I'll see the world--at least as far as the big willow at
the lower end of the meadow!"
He scarcely cared to go beyond the big willow. Beyond it lay another
farm. And Master Meadow Mouse had never been off Farmer Green's place in
his whole life. He feared that he might not be able to find his way
back, if he ventured too far from home.
Soon he spied a friend on the bank of the creek. Master Meadow Mouse
cried, "Good-by!" and waved a paw at him.
The person on the bank was one of his many cousins. And when he caught
sight of Master Meadow Mouse he stared hard for a few moments. Then he
shouted, "Don't jump! I'll rescue you." He was already running to the
water's edge when Master Meadow Mouse stopped him.
"I don't want to be rescued," he called. "I'm seeing the world."
His cousin hurried along the bank, still watching the strange sight.
"It seems to me--" he told Master Meadow Mouse--"it seems to me that the
world is seeing you. Where would you hide if Henry Hawk discovered
you?"
[Illustration: Master Meadow Mouse drifted toward Mr. Heron]
Master Meadow Mouse did not answer. To tell the truth, the question set
him to thinking. He had to admit that it might be a bit awkward to find
any cover in case somebody or other made a sudden swoop at him.
"Oh, well!" he said at last. "It can't be helped. There's always _some_
danger in traveling--so I've heard."
His cousin on the bank had stopped running and now stood still and
watched him anxiously until the raft had borne Master Meadow Mouse out
of sight around a bend.
As the flood swung the craft toward the further side of the creek Master
Meadow Mouse beheld a long-legged fisherman standing in the water. Not
only did the fisherman have long legs. He had a long bill as well. And
he was standing like a statue, waiting for a fish to swim past him. A
fish, or a frog, or a mouse! He didn't care which.
Master Meadow Mouse knew him at once. He was Mr. Great Blue Heron--or
plain "G. B." as he preferred to be called. While Master Meadow Mouse
gazed at him in horror Mr. Heron swiftly thrust his spearlike bill into
the water. Even his head went out of sight for a moment.
Mr. Heron did not do that in order to cool his head. Ah, no! When he
pulled his bill out of the creek a pickerel came with it. And the
pickerel vanished very quickly down Mr. Heron's long neck.
It was not a nice sight for Master Meadow Mouse to see, especially when
he was on a pleasure trip. Besides, he noticed with dismay that his raft
was bearing him straight towards the fisherman.
"If I only had some oars, or a rudder, I could steer this old raft away
from him," Master Meadow Mouse thought. But he had nothing of the sort.
Master Meadow Mouse groaned.
"I wish I'd never gone a-traveling!"
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
17
A Lucky Escape
NEARER and nearer the board, with Master Meadow Mouse upon it, drifted
around the bend of the creek toward Mr. Great Blue Heron. And at last
Mr. Heron noticed it. And he noticed its passenger, too.
"Ahem!" he said softly to himself. Except for swallowing once or twice,
he never made a move, but stood there in the water and waited. He waited
for Master Meadow Mouse's raft to drift closer; for it was plain to
him--as to Master Meadow Mouse--that the current of Black Creek was
slowly bearing the board straight down upon him. "When it gets near
enough I'll just reach out and pluck that fellow off," Mr. Heron
promised himself with a sort of silent chuckle.
Meanwhile Master Meadow Mouse was having a very bad quarter of an hour.
Slowly though his craft moved, to him it seemed to travel with lightning
speed.
"I'll pass him soon," Master Meadow Mouse thought. "If I crouch down and
make myself as small as possible perhaps he won't see me."
So he hugged the board tight. But the closer he came to Mr. Heron the
bigger and fiercer that gentleman looked.
Suddenly Master Meadow Mouse's courage oozed out through his toes. He
couldn't stay on his raft another second. Springing to his feet, he
scurried to the edge of the board and slipped off it into the water.
At his first move Mr. Heron moved too. He lifted his great wings and
flapped them, tucking his legs under his body at the same time. A half
dozen flaps carried him abreast of the floating board. And there Mr.
Heron let his long legs down into the water until he stood again upon
the bottom of the creek. He scanned the water eagerly, even plunging his
head into it and looking all around. But he couldn't see Master Meadow
Mouse anywhere.
"This is queer," he mumbled. "I knew those fellows were good swimmers.
But I didn't think this one could get away from me so quickly."
Mr. Great Blue Heron waded about the creek for some time, searching
everywhere--or almost everywhere. And while he was searching, the
deserted raft swung off down the creek, hung for a few moments at the
edge of the channel, and then drifted lazily toward shore, where it
lodged at last among the reeds.
The disappointed fisherman returned to his fishing. But it seemed as if
his luck had turned. Not another fish came his way. And being too wise
to expect that another Meadow Mouse would come traveling down the creek
on a raft, Mr. Great Blue Heron at last forsook his sport and sailed
away through the air towards the lake on the other side of Blue
Mountain.
He hadn't been gone a great while when Master Meadow Mouse might have
been seen picking his way along the bank. He was journeying upstream, on
his way home.
"It was lucky for me--" he explained to his cousin, whom he met
later--"it was lucky for me that I could swim under water. Otherwise I
shouldn't have been able to hide beneath the board and stay there until
it swung into the rushes."
"You had a narrow escape," his cousin told him. "Don't say that I didn't
warn you!"
That cousin was one of those persons that always exclaim, "I told you
so!"
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
18
Under the Snow
WINTER had come. The snow lay deep over Pleasant Valley. But Master
Meadow Mouse didn't object to that. On the contrary, he had welcomed the
snow. Even Johnnie Green, peeping out of his chamber window at the first
snowfall of the season, hadn't been any happier over it than Master
Meadow Mouse was. To Johnnie Green the snow meant fun. To Master Meadow
Mouse it meant fun and something more.
At last he could scamper about the meadow without being seen by
everybody. For he set to work at once to make tunnels beneath the snow.
They ran in every direction from his house. And he was forever pushing
them further and further.
Through those tunnels Master Meadow Mouse could look for seeds and grain
in the stubble. And while he was rambling along his network of halls he
didn't have to worry about anybody's making trouble for him, unless it
was Peter Mink, perhaps, or Grumpy Weasel.
Of course Master Meadow Mouse didn't stay under the snow all the time.
Now and then he liked to climb up into the open air. And he made many
shafts that led to the world above.
Although most of the birds had gone South to spend the winter, there
were still some that Master Meadow Mouse had to shun. Old Mr. Crow was
spending the winter on the farm. And there were Solomon Owl and his
cousin Simon Screecher, who hunted over the meadow nightly. And at dusk
sometimes a fierce hawk known as "Rough-leg" would beat his way back and
forth across the snow covered stretches in the hope of catching one of
the Meadow Mouse family unawares.
In spite of such unpleasant neighbors, the big Meadow Mouse family
managed to have many a gay frolic under the stars on crisp winter
nights. Sometimes Johnnie Green, wandering over the fields on snow-shoes
by day, noticed a lacy tracery on the snow. It was the tracks of the
tiny toes of Master Meadow Mouse and his dozens of cousins. At first
Johnnie almost thought that he had stumbled upon the scene of a revel of
fairy mice. He did not know then that the Meadow Mouse family had a
village of their own right under his feet.
But Solomon Owl and Simon Screecher and old Rough-leg, the hawk, knew
all about the habits of the villagers. In fact they sometimes complained
about the way the Meadow Mouse family had built their tunnels. They
agreed that there were too many holes leading down to the village
streets. It gave the Meadow Mouse people too many openings into which to
dive in case of a sudden surprise when they were having a moonlight
party.
"If they ever invited me to one of their affairs I wouldn't care what
they did," Solomon Owl remarked one evening to his whistling cousin,
Simon Screecher. "If they'd welcome me just once to one of their dances
I'd be satisfied."
"It's plain that they don't like you," his cousin remarked.
"Nor you, either!" Solomon Owl boomed. And then all at once he burst
forth with a peal of ghostly laughter. _"Wha, wha, whoo-ah!_"
Now, Master Meadow Mouse had just crept out of one of his doorways and
was looking up at the stars when that shivery sound came rolling out of
the woods. When he heard it he turned quickly and hurried back where he
came from.
"There won't be any fun to-night," he grumbled.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
19
Owl Friends
"THERE'S no sense in wasting our time here," said Solomon Owl to his
small cousin, Simon Screecher. "It's a fine night. The Mice will all be
out sooner or later. Let's go over and sit in that old oak on the edge
of the meadow!"
Simon Screecher was more than willing. And they had no sooner settled
themselves among the bare branches of the oak when Simon started to
amuse himself by giving his well-known quavering whistle.
Solomon Owl stopped him quickly.
"Don't do that!" he said sharply. "Do you want to scare the Mice?"
Simon Screecher cut his whistle off right in the middle of it.
"I forgot," he murmured. "But I don't believe my whistling would do any
harm. I don't think there are many Mice left on Farmer Green's place.
It's my opinion that they've moved away--most of them. Or maybe old
Rough-leg, the Hawk, has caught more than his share. Anyhow, it's so
long since I ate a Meadow Mouse that I've almost forgotten what they're
like."
Solomon Owl made no reply. He was a person of few words. If anybody
asked his opinion he was ready to give it. But he seldom gave any
unsought advice.
"I've about made up my mind," said Simon Screecher, "that I'd move to
some other neighborhood. If I knew where there was good mousing I'd
move to-morrow."
While he was speaking, Solomon Owl started ever so slightly. And he
cocked his head on one side, as if he were listening for something.
At that moment his cousin began to whistle again.
"Be quiet!" Solomon Owl thundered. "If I'm not mistaken I heard a
squeak. But no Meadow Mouse will ever venture out of doors if you're
going to whistle."
"I forgot," said Simon Screecher once more. "I'm so used to whistling
that I don't know when I'm doing it."
[Illustration: Solomon Owl and Simon Screecher wait for Master Meadow
Mouse]
"That's the reason why you can't catch more Mice," Solomon Owl snapped;
for he was angry. "There are dozens of Meadow Mice under the snow. But
of course you can't surprise them if you tell them you're coming. You
might as well send them a telegram, saying that you'll be on hand to
meet them at eight P. M."
Simon Screecher was silenced for the time being.
And it wasn't long before Solomon Owl gave another start.
"There's that squeak again!" he whispered. "I believe it is getting
nearer, too."
Now, Master Meadow Mouse had a tunnel that led right beneath the tree
where the two cousins were sitting. And he had strolled that way after
scurrying under the snow when he heard Solomon Owl laughing in the woods
earlier in the evening.
It was he that Solomon heard. It was he that stuck his head out of a
hole in the snow and peeped up at the star-sprinkled sky.
Solomon Owl saw him. And he dived out of the old oak straight at Master
Meadow Mouse.
Master Meadow Mouse pulled his head in just in time.
"I didn't suppose that chap would be here as soon as this," he gasped.
"He must have hurried over here from the woods. He must be very hungry."
As Solomon Owl returned to the old oak his cousin Simon Screecher
laughed somewhat unpleasantly.
"Missed him--didn't you?" he inquired.
"Yes!"
"Why didn't you grab him out of the snow?" Simon asked. "What are your
claws for? What's your beak for?"
"I couldn't dig him out," Solomon Owl replied. "The snow is three feet
deep. And it has seven different crusts, one under another."
"This is a hard winter," said Simon Screecher. "I wish I'd gone South
last fall. I wonder how the mousing is down there."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
20
Eating a Tree
AS SIMON SCREECHER remarked to his cousin, Solomon Owl, it was a hard
winter. The snow was deep. The days were cold. And the nights were
colder. And, worst of all, food became scarce. It seemed as if there
wasn't anything to eat anywhere except at the farm buildings, which
Farmer Green had stuffed full of hay and grain during the summer and
autumn. Many of the forest folk stole down from Blue Mountain after
nightfall and visited the farmyard in the hope of getting a bite of
something or other.
Even Master Meadow Mouse began to find it harder and harder to get
enough seeds under the snow to satisfy his hunger. He had stored away a
stock of food. But it hadn't been big enough. And that was a great
mistake. Master Meadow Mouse promised himself that he would not repeat
it another time. Unfortunately, all the promises in the world wouldn't
give him a square meal when he needed one.
At last he went to one of his cousins who had already spent one winter
in the meadow.
"This is my first winter," Master Meadow Mouse explained. "I'm running
short of food. And I wish you'd tell me what to do in such a case."
"That's easy," his cousin answered. "Get more!" And then he hurried
away, for he had important business to attend to.
Poor Master Meadow Mouse ran after him. It was hard to follow his
cousin through the winding galleries beneath the snow. Several times
Master Meadow Mouse took the wrong turn and had to retrace his steps.
But at last he found his busy cousin again.
"You advised me to get more food," said Master Meadow Mouse. "But you
didn't tell me where to get it."
"In the orchard!" his cousin cried. And then he hurried away again.
"I wish he'd wait a minute," Master Meadow Mouse grumbled as he tore
after his cousin once more. "I don't feel like running. I haven't had a
hearty meal for days."
The cousin seemed surprised when Master Meadow Mouse overtook him.
"What!" that busy gentleman exclaimed. "Have you been to the orchard and
back so soon?"
"No!" said Master Meadow Mouse. "I've been chasing you. I want you to
tell me what I'll find to eat when I go to the orchard."
"That's easy," his cousin replied. "Trees!" Having said those three
words he dashed off again even faster than before.
"Trees!" Master Meadow Mouse echoed. "I can't eat trees. I've never
eaten a tree in all my life. There must be something that my cousin
forgot to explain. So I suppose I'll have to run after him again and ask
him what he meant."
The fourth time that Master Meadow Mouse found his cousin he took no
chances. He caught his cousin by his tail and held on firmly.
"You're not going to get away from me till I've found out what I want
to know," he declared. "How can I eat a tree?" Master Meadow Mouse
demanded.
"You can't!" his cousin replied, struggling desperately to free himself,
for he was too busy to stop long.
"Then explain what you mean!" Master Meadow Mouse cried.
"Eat the bark!" his cousin answered.
Then--and not till then--did Master Meadow Mouse let him go.
Master Meadow Mouse chased his cousin no more, but hurried away to
Farmer Green's orchard, where he gnawed a ring all the way around one of
the young fruit trees, at the top of the snow. It was the first big meal
he had enjoyed for weeks. And he went home feeling that the winter was
not so hard as he had thought, after all.
But Farmer Green didn't agree with him. When he happened to go into the
orchard one day, later, and saw tree after tree ruined, he was very,
very much displeased.
"I ought to have put wire netting around those young trees," he told the
hired man. "This is what comes of a hard winter."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
21
A Cold Dip
IN one way Peter Mink was like Master Meadow Mouse. He enjoyed swimming.
And he spent a great deal of his time along the streams that threaded
their way through Pleasant Valley. Sometimes Peter dawdled on the banks
of Swift River. Sometimes he lingered for days in the neighborhood of
Black Creek. Nor did he disdain so small a stream as the brook that
crossed the meadow. It was deep enough for a swim. And he knew that
muskrats lived under its banks. While as for meadow mice--well, Peter
Mink had surprised many a one swimming in the brook. If it hadn't been
for the meadow mice perhaps he wouldn't have visited the brook so often.
Even in winter Master Meadow Mouse just _had_ to have his cold dip now
and then. So he ran one of his many snow tunnels to the brook, making a
little opening that led under the ice, where the water had fallen away
and left a cavern. Just because there was skating for Johnnie Green on
top of the brook it mustn't be supposed that Master Meadow Mouse wasn't
going to have a swim when he wanted one.
When Peter Mink wandered along a stream in winter he preferred to travel
under the ice, rather than walk upon the upper side of it. It made
little difference to him whether there was a dry strip along the edge of
the stream, where he could steal silently along without wetting his
feet. When he found no place to walk, he swam.
Now, Master Meadow Mouse was well aware of this trick of Peter
Mink's--this trick of lurking beneath the ice of river, creek and brook.
But Master Meadow Mouse _would_ have his cold dip now and then despite
Peter Mink and his prowling ways.
To be sure, Master Meadow Mouse tried to be careful. Before he crept
from the end of his tunnel, he stuck his head out and looked up and down
and all around. He peeped under the bank of the brook. He even stared
into the water. And then--if he saw nobody that was fiercer than Paddy
Muskrat--only then would he venture to skip to the water's edge and
plunge in.
To tell the truth, Master Meadow Mouse always felt safer when one of
the Muskrat family happened to be taking a swim at the same time. For
the Muskrats all had a warning signal that told everybody when there was
danger. When one of them caught sight of Peter Mink he never failed--if
he was in the water--to give a loud slap upon the surface with his tail.
Master Meadow Mouse always had one ear that was listening for that slap.
And when it sounded he never waited an instant, but darted into his
tunnel without even stopping to shake the water off his coat. He said
that he could dry his coat after he reached home; while if he stopped to
dry it at the edge of the brook perhaps he'd never get home at all.
You might think that now and then he would have said to himself, "Oh, I
won't bother to look for Peter Mink to-day. He must be miles away. I'll
step right out of my tunnel and have my swim without taking a look-see
first." But Master Meadow Mouse was never so lazy as that. And the day
came at last when it was well worth his while to take the little extra
trouble of peeping out before he had his swim.
For Master Meadow Mouse caught a glimpse of a snakelike head that darted
out from under the bank of the brook and darted back again, out of
sight. He knew that that queer head belonged to Peter Mink, and to
nobody else.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
22
Fishing for Mice
MASTER MEADOW MOUSE peeped out of the end of his tunnel and gave a faint
squeak. As he watched, he saw Peter Mink's head, on its long neck, flash
out from beneath the overhanging bank of the brook.
"What are you doing up there?" Master Meadow Mouse called.
"Fishing!" said Peter Mink promptly.
"Aren't you a long way from the water?" Master Meadow Mouse inquired.
"With a pole, one doesn't need to stand right at the water's edge," said
Peter Mink.
"But you haven't a pole," Master Meadow Mouse pointed out. "At least, I
can't see that you have one."
Peter was greatly surprised--or seemed to be.
"I declare!" he said. "I forgot to bring my pole with me. And if you
hadn't reminded me of it I shouldn't have known what was the trouble. I
was wondering why I didn't get any bites." As he spoke he slid down the
lower part of the bank and stretched himself like a cat. But all the
time he was looking at Master Meadow Mouse out of the corner of his eye.
"What are _you_ doing here?" Peter Mink asked pleasantly.
"I came to take a swim," Master Meadow Mouse explained.
"Have you had it?"
"Not yet!" Master Meadow Mouse told him. "And I believe I'll wait till
to-morrow."
"The water's fine to-day," said Peter Mink. "I've been in and out of it
forty times."
But Master Meadow Mouse wasn't to be persuaded so easily.
"I might spoil your fishing if I went in now," he remarked.
"I don't care if you do," said Peter Mink. "The pleasure of seeing you
enjoy a swim would more than repay me for the loss of the biggest fish
in this brook."
Now, such speeches sounded very strange, coming from the mouth of a
surly rascal like Peter Mink, who was never known to do anybody a good
turn. Master Meadow Mouse pondered over this last statement. There
seemed to be a catch in it somewhere. And he decided, finally, that he
had discovered it.
"I didn't know there were any fish in this brook worth catching," he
piped. "They say there were trout here once. But now there's nothing
bigger than a minnow."
Peter Mink nodded. "That's the truth," he said. "If this brook has a
fish that's as meaty as you are, I've never seen him."
"Ah!" cried Master Meadow Mouse. "You'd far rather catch me than catch a
fish in this pool."
Peter Mink grinned at him brazenly.
"I won't deny it," he replied.
"But you tried to deceive me," Master Meadow Mouse told him. "You
said--when I asked you what you were doing here--you said that you were
fishing."
"So I was!" Peter Mink exclaimed with a horrid chuckle. "I was fishing
for mice. And if you'd been a little less careful I'd have caught one,
too."
"Good day!" said Master Meadow Mouse. "Good day and good-by!"
"Don't say good-by!" Peter Mink corrected. "Say, 'Till we meet again!'"
But Master Meadow Mouse had already pulled his head out of sight and
vanished inside his tunnel.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
23
Moving Day
MASTER MEADOW MOUSE had a great-uncle who was known as Uncle Billy. He
was the oldest of all the members of the Meadow Mouse family that lived
under the snow near the brook. Hobbling along through one of the tunnels
beneath the seven crusts of snow he happened to meet Master Meadow Mouse
as he was returning from his talk with Peter Mink.
"I just saw Peter Mink at the brook!" Master Meadow Mouse called.
"Ha!" Uncle Billy snorted. "The question is, did he see you?"
"He did," Master Meadow Mouse answered with no little pride, for he
felt quite important. "He not only saw me. He talked with me."
"Ha!" Uncle Billy snorted again. "Then this is moving day."
"Why, it's not the first of May, is it?" Master Meadow Mouse cried.
"Hardly!" said Uncle Billy, with something like a sniff. "It's not
Ground Hog Day yet; and that's only the second of February."
"Then why should anybody move, right in the middle of winter?" Master
Meadow Mouse wanted to know.
"Because--" Uncle Billy declared hotly--"because somebody has gone and
let Peter Mink know where we're spending the winter. And it's not safe
for us to stay here any longer."
Master Meadow Mouse couldn't help feeling guilty. Still, he hoped he
hadn't made as great a mistake as Uncle Billy would have him believe.
"I've heard," he ventured, "that Peter Mink can squeeze through any hole
that's big enough for his head. But surely he couldn't get even his flat
head into one of our passages."
"He can burrow in the snow!" Uncle Billy snapped. "He can and he will.
He'll come sniffing and listening all around here. And when he finds a
likely spot to dig, down he'll go through drifts and crusts until he
reaches the stubble." Uncle Billy shook his head and drew a long breath.
"Young man," he said, "you've got us into a peck of trouble. This whole
village has to move. Don't let it happen again!"
By that time others of the villagers had gathered round and heard the
news. Of course the news spread fast. And in a surprisingly short while
the Meadow Mouse family was on its way to the mill pond.
Everybody set to work--everybody except Uncle Billy Meadow Mouse. He was
busy telling all the rest what to do, though he didn't help half as much
as he thought he did.
But every one was polite to him, for he was the oldest Meadow Mouse on
the farm.
It wasn't long before they had everything snug again. And as for Master
Meadow Mouse, he was actually glad that he had made the whole village
move. For Paddy Muskrat lived in the mill pond. He spent all his time
there when he wasn't taking excursions up the brook. And Master Meadow
Mouse found him the best of company.
Especially did Master Meadow Mouse like to hear Paddy Muskrat slap his
tail upon the water, when he gave the danger signal.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
24
Master or Mister?
LIVING, as he did, near the mill pond, Master Meadow Mouse saw a great
deal of Paddy Muskrat. They had a number of tastes in common. They both
liked lily bulbs. They both enjoyed swimming. They both disliked Peter
Mink. They were bound to become great cronies--if for no other reason
than the last.
By spring Paddy Muskrat knew Master Meadow Mouse well enough to ask him
a very intimate question.
"Why does everybody call you 'Master'?" he inquired one day.
Master Meadow Mouse looked at him in a puzzled fashion for a moment or
two.
"I don't know," he answered. "I don't know why, unless it's because they
_always have_ called me that. Don't you think it's a good name?" he
asked Paddy Muskrat a bit anxiously.
"Oh, yes!" Paddy assured him. "There's no doubt that it's a good enough
name. But it's one that's given to a youngster--to a mere child."
"I'm not a youngster!" Master Meadow Mouse cried. "Nobody can call me
_young_. I'm almost a year old!"
"I thought so," said Paddy Muskrat, as if he knew he couldn't have been
mistaken. "You're grown up. And yet they still call you 'Master' Meadow
Mouse. If I were you I'd get folks to change that."
It was plain that Master Meadow Mouse agreed with him in every way. He
had already made up his mind that he wouldn't answer to the name of
'Master' Meadow Mouse any longer. And he told Paddy Muskrat as much.
"If they want me to answer after this, they'll have to call me something
else," he declared. "Now, what would you suggest?"
Paddy Muskrat said he needed time to think the matter over. And he
thought that he'd like to consult his wife, who always had an opinion.
"Wait here till I come back!" he told Master Meadow Mouse. And, diving
into the water, he swam home. He was back in a few minutes, with a broad
smile upon his face. "I've thought of the very thing!" he exclaimed.
"Or, at least, my wife has. She says, 'Call him "Mister," of course'!"
"That's fine!" cried Master Meadow Mouse. "I'm sure I couldn't have
thought of that if I'd tried all summer. And now," he added, "I must go
and tell everybody about this sudden change."
So he hurried home. And, calling everybody around him, he explained that
he was a year old, and that he had successfully dodged Miss Kitty Cat,
Tommy Fox, Solomon Owl, Ferdinand Frog, Peter Mink, Old Mr. Crow and
goodness only knew how many other dangerous folk.
"I'm grown up now," he told his hearers. "From this time on I expect
everybody to call me _Mister_ Meadow Mouse."
And everybody said that a new name was no more than he deserved. They
all approved his choice.
No! There was just one among all the company that was opposed to the
change. He snorted and started to say something disagreeable. And for
once everybody told Uncle Billy (for it was he!) to be quiet.
And that was the end of Master Meadow Mouse.
[Illustration: THE END]
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes:
Comma added on title page after "CUFFY BEAR BOOKS"
Page 41, "Farmer's" changed to "Farmer" (Farmer Green's woodpile)
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