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Joyous Story of Toto

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<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2></div> “Oh! what a delightful story, Pigeon Pretty!” cried Toto. “Did you hear any more like it? I wish I had that red book! Did the boy look as nice as his sister? What was his name?” “His name,” said the pigeon, “was Jim, I think. And he did not—no, Toto, he certainly did not look as nice as his sister. In fact, although I pitied him because he was ill, I thought he looked like a disagreeable sort of boy.” “Red hair?” interposed the squirrel, looking at the raccoon. “Freckled face?” asked the raccoon, looking at the squirrel. “Why, yes!” said the pigeon, in surprise. “He had red hair and a freckled face; but how should you two know anything about him?” The squirrel and the raccoon nodded at each other. “Same boy, I should say!” said Cracker. “Same boy, I should say!” answered Coon. “What is it?” asked Toto, curious as usual. “Tell us about it, one of you! It is early yet, and we have plenty of time.” “Well, I will tell you,” said the squirrel. “I meant to keep it and tell it next time, for I cannot make up stories as easily as some of you, and this is something that really happened; but I might just as well tell it now, especially as Pigeon Pretty has told you about the boy. “You need not be at all sorry for that boy,” he continued. “He is a bad boy, and he deserves all he got, and more too.” “Dear, dear!” said the grandmother. “I am sorry to hear that. What did he do, Mr. Cracker?” “He tried to rob my Uncle Munkle of his winter store!” replied the squirrel. “And he got the worst of it, that’s all.” “Who is your Uncle Munkle?” asked Toto. “I don’t know him, do I?” “No,” said Cracker. “He lives quite at the other end of the wood, where people sometimes go for fagots and nuts and such things. Nobody ever comes near our end of the wood, because they are afraid of Bruin. “My uncle is a Munk,” he continued, “and a most excellent person.” “A monk?” interrupted the grandmother in amazement. “Yes, a Chipmunk!” said the squirrel. “It’s the same thing, I believe, only we spell it with a u. Third cousin to a monkey, you know.” Toto and his grandmother both looked quite bewildered at this; but the raccoon smiled sweetly, and said,— “Go on, Cracker, my boy! never try to explain things too fully; it’s apt to be a little tedious, and it is always better to leave something to the imagination.” “I am going on,” said Cracker. “As I said before, people sometimes go into that part of the wood; there are one or two hives not far from it.” “One or two hives?” interrupted Toto. “What do you mean, Cracker?” “Why, a lot of houses together,” said the squirrel. “Don’t you call them hives? The only other creatures I know that live in that kind of way (and a very poor way it is, to my thinking) are the bees, and their places are called hives.” “A collection of houses, Mr. Cracker,” said the grandmother gently, “is called a village or a town, according to its size; a village being a small collection.” “Oh!” said the squirrel. “Thank you, ma’am! I will try to remember that. Well, this boy Jim lives in the nearest village, and sometimes goes into the forest. Now, the autumn is slipping away fast, as we all know; and last week my Uncle Munkle, who is always fore-handed and thrifty, thought it was high time to be getting in his winter store of nuts and acorns. So he sent for his nephews to come and help him (he has no children of his own). We all went, of course, and Coon went with us, for my uncle always gives us a feast after the nuts are in, and Coon always goes wherever there is anything to—” “What?” said the raccoon, looking up sharply. “Wherever there is anything to be done!” said the squirrel hastily. “The second day, as we were all hard at work shelling the beechnuts, I heard a noise among the bushes,—a crackling noise that did not sound like any animal I knew. I looked, and saw two eyes peering out from the leaves of a young beech-tree. ‘That is a boy,’ said I to myself, ‘and he means mischief!’ So I skipped off without saying anything to the others, and crept softly round behind the bushes, making no more noise than an eel in the mud. There I found, not one boy, but two, crouching among the bushes, and watching the nut-shelling. They were whispering to each other; and I crept nearer and nearer till I could hear all they said. “‘When shall we come?’ said one. “‘To-night,’ said the other, who had red hair and a freckled face, ‘when the moon is up, and the little beggars are all asleep. Then we can easily knock them on the head, and get the nuts without being bitten. They bite like wild-cats when they are roused, these little fellows.’ “‘All right!’ said the other, whose face I could not see. ‘I’ll bring a bag and be here at eight o’clock.’ “‘Will you?’ thought I, and I crept away again, having heard all I wanted to know. I went back to the others, and presently a snapping and crackling told me that the boys were gone. Then I went to Uncle Munkle and told him what I had heard. He was very angry, and whisked his tail about till he nearly whisked it off. ‘Call your large friend,’ he said, ‘and we will hold a council.’ So I waked Coon—” “Waked Coon?” exclaimed the woodchuck slyly. “What! do you mean to say he was not working twice as hard as any of the others?” “I had been, my good fellow!” said the raccoon loftily. “I had been; and exhausted with my labors. I was snatching a moment’s hard-earned repose. Go on, Cracker.” “Well,” continued the squirrel, “we held a council, and settled everything beautifully. Uncle Munkle, who has very particularly sharp teeth, was to get into the nut-closet and wait there. The rest of us were to be ready together on the nearest branch, and Coon was to hide himself somewhere close by. No one was to move until Uncle Munkle gave the signal, and then—well, you shall hear how it happened. We all went on with our work until sunset. Then we had supper, and a game of scamper, and then we began to prepare for business. We sharpened our claws on the bark of the trees till they were as sharp as—as—” “Razors,” suggested Toto. “Don’t know what that means,” said the squirrel. “As sharp as Coon’s nose, then; that will do.” “We filled our cheek-pouches with three-cornered pebbles and nut-shells. Then, when the moon rose, and all the forest was quiet, we retired to our posts. We had waited some time, and were becoming rather impatient, when suddenly a distant sound was heard; the sound of snapping and cracking twigs. It grew louder and louder, louder and louder; and presently we saw a freckled face looking out from among the leaves. “Cautiously the boy advanced, and soon another boy appeared, not so ill-looking as the first. He carried a bag in his hand. The two came softly to the foot of our tree, and looked up. The leaves twinkled in the moonlight; but all was still, not a sound to be heard. The two whispered together a moment; then the freckled boy began slowly and carefully to climb the tree. We saw his red head coming nearer and nearer, nearer and nearer. We knew he must be near Uncle Munkle’s hole. We all held our breath and listened for the signal. “Presently the boy stopped climbing, and we saw him stretch out his hand. Then—oh! such a screech! You never heard such a screech, not even from a wild-cat. Another yell, and another. That was the signal. Now we knew what Uncle Munkle meant by saying, ‘I may not give the signal myself, but you will hear it all the same.’ “Instantly we sprang at the boy, ten strong, healthy squirrels, teeth and claws and all. I don’t think he enjoyed himself very much for the next few minutes. He yelled all the time, and at last he lost his hold on the tree, and fell heavily to the ground. Also, Coon had been biting his legs a little. But when he fell, Coon started after the other boy, who was dancing about the foot of the tree in a frenzy of terror and amazement. When he saw Coon coming, he started on a run; but Coon jumped on his back and got him by the ear, and then rode him round and round the forest till he howled as loud as the other one had.” “A very pleasant ride I had, too,” said the raccoon placidly. “My young friend was excitable, very excitable, but that only made it the more lively. Yes. I don’t know when I have enjoyed anything more.” “But what became of the first boy after he fell?” asked Toto eagerly. <div class='figcenter'> <div class='figtag'> </div> <ANTIMG src='images/i022.png' alt='' title='' width-obs='431' height-obs='296' /> “His father took him away in a wheelbarrow.” </div> “Well, my dear, he lay still,” said the squirrel. “He lay still. He had broken his leg, so it was really the only thing for him to do. And when Coon came back from riding the other boy he jumped backwards and forwards over him till his father came and took him away in a wheelbarrow. Every time Coon jumped, he grinned at the boy; and every time he grinned, the boy screamed; so one inferred that he did not like it, you know. “Altogether,” said the little squirrel, in conclusion, “it was a great success; a great success; really, worthy of our end of the wood. And such a feast as Uncle Munkle gave us the day after!” <div class='chsp'> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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