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Joyous Story of Toto

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<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2></div> One afternoon (it was not a “story” afternoon, for the grandmother was very busy, dyeing some of her homespun yarn) Toto went off to the forest early, intending to have a game of scamper with Coon and Cracker. As he sauntered along with his hands in his pockets, he met the woodchuck. Master Chucky looked very spruce and neat, and was trotting along with an air of great self-satisfaction. “Hallo! you Chucky,” exclaimed Toto, “where are you going?” The woodchuck stopped, and glanced around with his sharp little eyes. “Is any one with you, Toto?” he asked,—“Coon, or Cracker, or any of those fellows?” “No,” answered Toto in some surprise. “I was just going to find them. Do you want them?” “No, indeed!” exclaimed the woodchuck. “You see,” and he lowered his voice confidentially, “I am going to a rinktum, and I don’t want those fellows to know about it.” “What is a rinktum?” asked Toto. “And why don’t you want them to know about it?” “Why, a rinktum is a rabbit’s ball, of course. What else should it be?” answered Chucky. “The rabbits have invited me; but at the last one Coon ate up all the supper, and bit the rabbits if they tried to get any; so they determined not to invite him again, and asked me not to say anything about it.” “Oh, Chucky,” exclaimed Toto, “I wish you would take me! I have never been to a rabbit’s ball, and I should like to go so much! and I wouldn’t eat anything at all!” he added, seeing that the woodchuck looked doubtful. Chucky brightened up at the last remark, and said, “Well, after all, I don’t see why I shouldn’t take you. They are always glad to see people, if they will only behave themselves. So come along, Toto;” and the fat little creature hurried along, with Toto following him. “You may have some difficulty,” he said as they went along, “in getting into the ball-room, but I think you will be able to squeeze through. It is in the Big Burrow, which is certainly large enough for any reasonable creature. Here we are now at the mouth of the burrow.” They were crossing a rough, uneven meadow, with trees and shrubs thickly scattered over it; and the woodchuck stopped at a large juniper-bush, in front of which sat a black rabbit. “How do you do, Woodchuck?” inquired the rabbit. “And who is this with you?” “This is a—a—a boy, in fact,” said the woodchuck in some embarrassment. “He is a great friend of mine, and has never seen a rinktum in his life, so I ventured to bring him. He—he won’t eat anything!” he added in a whisper. The rabbit bowed to Toto by way of reply, and pulling aside the branches of the juniper-bush, disclosed a large hole in the ground. “Follow me,” said the woodchuck; “I will lead the way.” And he disappeared through the mouth of the hole. Toto dropped on his hands and knees, and followed as best he could. The path was very narrow, and wound about and about in a very inconvenient manner. Several times the boy was stuck so fast that it seemed as if he could not get any farther; but he always managed, by much wriggling, to squeeze through the tight places. It was perfectly dark, but there was no possibility of his losing his way, for obvious reasons. At last he saw a glimmer of light ahead. It grew brighter and brighter; and at last Toto emerged from the passage, and found himself in a large cave, which in one part was high enough to allow him to stand upright. He immediately crawled over to this part, and getting on his feet, looked about at the strange scene before him. The Big Burrow was lighted by the United Company of Glow-worms. These little creatures had arranged themselves in patterns all over the walls and roof of the cave, and were shining with all their might. The effect was truly lovely, and Toto could not help wishing that his grandmother’s cottage were lighted in the same way. The floor was crowded with rabbits of every size and color, and they were all dancing. Black rabbits, brown rabbits, white rabbits, big and little rabbits, racing round and round, jumping up and down, shaking their ears, and wiggling their noses. Oh, what a good time they were having! “Would you like to dance?” asked a very large white rabbit, who seemed to be the master of ceremonies, looking up at Toto. “Thank you,” said Toto. “I do not know the step, and I should only make confusion among the dancers, I fear.” “Oh, you will have no difficulty in learning the step,” said the white rabbit. “Nothing could be easier: first you jump up, then wriggle your hind-legs in the air, then turn round three times, rub your nose with your right fore-paw, jump again, rub your nose with your left hind-paw, turn round—” “But I have only two legs,” objected Toto meekly. <div class='figcenter'> <div class='figtag'> </div> <ANTIMG src='images/i025.png' alt='' title='' width-obs='421' height-obs='253' /> “Would you like to dance?” </div> “Dear, dear!” said the master of ceremonies. “That does seem to be a difficulty, doesn’t it? What a pity! Haven’t you ever had any more?” “No,” said Toto. “We are not made that way, you see. But don’t mind me,” he added, seeing that the hospitable rabbit seemed really distressed. “I only came to look on, and I am enjoying myself very much indeed, I assure you.” “Pretty sight, isn’t it, Toto?” said the woodchuck, bustling up, while the master of ceremonies went off to attend to his duties. “See that young white rabbit with the black nose and tail? She is the belle of the evening, I should say. Lovely creature! I have just danced twice with her.” “What is that brown rabbit doing?” exclaimed Toto. “He has been standing on his head before her, and now he is lying on his back and kicking his feet in the air. I think he is in a fit.” “No, no,” said the woodchuck. “Oh, no. He is merely expressing his devotion to her, that is all. He has been in love with her for a long time,” he added, “but I don’t think it will ever come to anything. He has no whiskers to speak of, and he comes from a very inferior sort of burrow. She ought not to dance with him at all, in point of fact, but she is so amiable!” “It is a pity they have no music,” said Toto. “I don’t see how they manage to dance. Would they like me to whistle for them, do you think, Chucky?” “Oh, wouldn’t they!” cried the woodchuck in delight. “What a nice boy you are, Toto! I am so glad I brought you!” So Toto whistled a merry tune, and the rabbits nearly went mad with delight. They capered, and jumped, and wriggled their hind-legs, and rubbed their noses, till Toto really thought they would dance themselves into small pieces; and when he stopped, they all tumbled down on the ground in little black and white and brown heaps, and lay panting and exhausted. The master of ceremonies came up to Toto, and after making him nine very polite bows, thanked him warmly for the pleasure he had given them. “This is certainly the rinktum of the season,” he said, “and much of its success is owing to your kindness.” He then begged Toto to come into the supper-room, and led the way to an adjoining cave. Toto followed, with a comical glance at the woodchuck, to remind him that he had not forgotten his promise. The supper was served in superb style, worthy of “the rinktum of the season.” There was cabbage-soup and broccoli broth. There were turnips and carrots, celery and beets and onions, in profusion; and in the centre of the room rose a lofty mountain of crisp green lettuce. Ah! that was a supper to do a rabbit’s heart good! Toto, mindful of his promise, showed great self-denial with regard to the raw vegetables, and even remained firm against the attractions of the cabbage-soup. The white rabbit was quite melancholy over his guest’s persistent refusal to eat of his good cheer. “But perhaps,” he said, “creatures of your race never eat. I see that your nose does not wiggle when you speak, so perhaps you cannot eat, eh?” “Oh, yes,” said Toto in an off-hand way. “Yes, we can; and sometimes we do. I have eaten in the course of my life, and I may do it again, but not to-night.” At this moment the guests all came pouring into the supper-room; and Toto began to think that it would be wise for him to slip away quietly, as it must be near his own supper-time, and his grandmother would be wondering where he was. So he took a friendly leave of the master of ceremonies, and nodding to the woodchuck, he left the supper-room, made his way through the ball-room, and dropping once more on his hands and knees, proceeded to wriggle his way as best he might through the underground passage. A very grimy and dusty boy he was when he came out again from behind the juniper-bush. He shook himself as well as he could, laughed a little over the recollection of the unsuccessful rabbit suitor kicking his heels in the air to express his devotion, and started on his way home. He had spent a much longer time than he had meant to at the rinktum, and it was growing quite dark. He hurried along, for his way lay through a part of the wood where he did not like to go after dark. The owls lived there, and Toto did not like the owls, because none of his friends liked them. They were surly, growly, ill-tempered birds, and were apt to make themselves very disagreeable if one met them after dark. Indeed, it was said that Mrs. Growler, the old grandmother owl of the family, had once eaten several of Cracker’s brothers and sisters. The squirrel did not like to talk about it, but Toto knew that he hated the owls bitterly. “I hope I shall not meet any of them,” said the boy to himself as he entered the wood. “I am not afraid of them, of course,—it would be absurd for a boy to be afraid of an owl,—but I don’t like them.” The thought had scarcely crossed his mind, when he heard a sound of flapping wings; and a moment after a huge white owl flew down directly in front of him, and spreading its broad pinions, completely barred his passage. “Who?” said the owl. <div class='figcenter'> <div class='figtag'> </div> <ANTIMG src='images/i026.png' alt='' title='' width-obs='415' height-obs='587' /> “‘Who?’ said the owl. ‘Toto,’ said the boy.” </div> “Toto,” said the boy shortly. “Let me pass, please. I’m in a hurry.” “You’re late!” said the owl severely. “I know it,” replied Toto. “That’s why I asked you to let me pass. I don’t want to talk to you, Mrs. Growler, and I don’t suppose you want to talk to me.” “Whit!” cried Mrs. Growler (for it was no other than that redoubtable female). “Don’t give me any of your impudence, sir! What do you mean by coming into our wood after dark, and then insulting me? Here, Hoots! Flappy! Horner! Come here, all of you! Here’s this imp of a boy who’s always making mischief here with that thieving raccoon. Let us give him a lesson, and teach him to stay where he belongs, and not come spying and prying into our wood!” Immediately a rushing sound was heard from all sides, and half-a-dozen owls came hooting and screaming around our hero. Toto held his ground manfully, though he saw that the odds were greatly against him. One owl was all very well; but seven or eight owls, all armed with powerful beaks and claws, and all angry, were quite another matter, especially as the darkness, which exactly suited them, made it difficult for him to tell in which direction he should beat his retreat, supposing he were able to beat it at all. He set his back against a tree, and faced the hooting, flapping crowd, whose great round eyes glared fiercely at him. “I’ve never done any harm to any of you,” he said boldly. “I’ve never thrown stones at you, and I’ve never taken more than one egg at a time from your nests. You have always hated me, Mother Growler, because I am a friend of Coon; and you’re afraid of Coon, you know you are. Come, let me go home quietly, and I’ll promise not to come into your part of the wood again. “I’m sure, there’s no inducement for coming,” he added in a lower tone. “It’s the scraggiest part of the whole forest,—only fit for owls to live in!” “Hoo! hoo!” cried Mother Growler in a rage. “I’m afraid of Coon, am I? A nasty, thieving creature, with an amount of tail that is simply disgusting! And our wood is scraggy, is it? Hoo! Give it to him, children!” “Peck him!” cried all the owls in chorus; “scratch him! tear him! hustle him!” and, with wings and claws spread, they came flying at Toto. Toto put one arm before his face, and prepared to defend himself as well as he could with the other. His blood was up, and he had no thought of trying to escape. If he could only get Mother Growler by the head now, and wring her neck! But blows were falling like hail on his own head now,—sharp blows from horny beaks and crooked talons. They were tearing his jacket off. He was dazed, almost stunned, by the beating of the huge wings in his face. Decidedly, our Toto is in a bad way. Suddenly a loud crackling noise was heard among the bushes. It came nearer; it grew louder. Toto listened, with his heart in his mouth. Surely, but one animal there was big enough to make a noise like that. “Bruin!” he cried, with all the breath he could gather, panting and struggling as he was. “Bruin! help! help!” A portentous growl answered his cry. The boughs crackled and burst right and left, and the next instant the bear sprang through the bushes. “What is it?” he cried. “Toto, that was your voice. Where are you, boy? What is the matter?” “Here!” cried Toto faintly. “Here, Bruin! The owls—” But at that moment the little fellow’s voice failed, and he sank bleeding and exhausted on the ground. “How-grrrrr-wow-wurra-Wurra-WURRA-WOW!!!” In two minutes more there were no owls in that part of the wood. Hoots, Horner, and the rest, when they saw the fiery eyes and glittering teeth of the bear, and heard his terrible roar, as he rushed upon them, loosed their hold of the boy, and flew for their lives. As for Mother Growler— “I did say,” remarked Bruin, taking some feathers out of his mouth, “that I never would eat another owl unless it was plucked. Feathers are certainly a most inferior article of food; but in a case of this kind it is really the only thing to do. As Coon says, it settles the matter, and there is no further trouble about it. And now,” continued the good bear, “how is my dear boy? Why, Toto! look up, boy. They are all gone, and you are cock of the whole wood. Come, my Toto! I’ll eat them all, if they have hurt the boy!” he added in an undertone. But Toto made no reply. He had, in point of fact, fainted from exhaustion and excitement. Bruin sniffed at him, and poked him from head to foot; then, finding that no bones were broken, he lifted the boy gently by the waistband of his breeches, and shambled off in the direction of the cottage. <div class='chsp'> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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