Making Up with Mr. Dog Part 2

'c.o.o.n began to s.h.i.+ver, for each thought he knew pretty well what the next courses of Mr. Dog's dinner would be. But Mr. Rabbit didn't stop smiling or let on that he knew, and he called out again to Mr. Dog, quick:--

"You'll have to help us if we have fish, Mr. Dog! He's a big one and you'll have to help us catch him!"

And Mr. Dog called back again:--

"Don't worry, Mr. Rabbit! I won't leave! I'll be on hand when you get here, Mr. Rabbit!"

Then he rolled up his trousers a little and waded out into the shallow water, thinking he would nab Mr. Fish first and drag him out on sh.o.r.e, and then pull the boat right in after him.

Of course, that was a pretty good plan for Mr. Dog, only like some other good plans, it didn't work just as he expected it to. You see, he didn't quite know how big the fish was, nor how hard a big fish is to handle in shallow water. He made a quick grab at it when it got to him and then, right away, he had his hands full of business. That fish gave a flop with his tail that laid Mr. Dog over on his back and then another flop that set him on his feet again, and a side flop that smacked him against the water first one way and then the other, and made him breathe hard and choke and try to let go.

But Mr. Dog couldn't let go, for he'd got the fish line some way tangled in his teeth. So he began to snap and paw and swallow water, and fall down and get up again, and sprawl about in the swamp gra.s.s, trying to get back to sh.o.r.e.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE FIGHT BETWEEN MR. DOG AND THE BIG FISH]

And while all this was going on Jack Rabbit and his friends had jumped out into the shallow water and took a little roundin's to sh.o.r.e, keeping out of Mr. Dog's way, and made tracks for the top of a hill, where they would be out of danger and see the fun at the same time. Then they all stood up there and watched the fight between Mr. Dog and the big fish, and Jack Rabbit sang out, as loud as ever he could:--

"Don't leave, Mr. Dog! Stay with him, Mr. Dog! Hold him to it, Mr. Dog; you've got him! First course, Mr. Dog!"

And Mr. Dog heard Jack Rabbit and got madder and madder every minute, till all of a sudden he got a lick on the side of the head from Mr.

Fish's tail that made him see stars and broke the line. And away went the big fish out into deep water, while Mr. Dog crawled back to sh.o.r.e, wet and bruised from head to foot, and 'most dead.

Then Mr. 'c.o.o.n and Mr. 'Possum and Jack Rabbit, standing on top of the hill, gave a great big laugh, all together, and Mr. Rabbit called out:--

"How did you like the first course, Mr. Dog?"

That made them all laugh again, and then Mr. 'c.o.o.n called out:--

"Are you ready for the second course, Mr. Dog?"

And pretty soon Mr. 'Possum he called out:--

"Are you ready for a nice roast now, Mr. Dog?"

And that, of course, made them all laugh very loud, for Mr. 'Possum used slang now and then and meant by a "roast" that people would all make fun of Mr. Dog wherever he went; which they did, for a long time.

Even Mr. Robin, who was good friends with Mr. Dog, couldn't help calling out to him, now and then, as he went by:--

"Are you ready for the next course, Mr. Dog?"

And Mr. Dog would pretend not to hear and go hurrying by very fast, as if he were out on special and important business for Mr. Man.

[Ill.u.s.tration: LEANING OVER TO LIGHT HIS PIPE FROM MR. 'POSSUM'S]

MR. RABBIT EXPLAINS

AN EASTER STORY

"WHY do we always have rabbits at Easter?" asked the Little Lady. "Is that a story, too?"

The Story Teller lit his pipe, thinking all the time, and pretty soon he said: "Why, yes, there is a story about that, and it goes this way":--

One afternoon in the early spring Mr. Jack Rabbit and his friends were out for an airing. The Hollow Tree people were along, and Mr. Turtle, as usual. By and by they came to a log under a big tree and sat down for a smoke and talk. They talked about the weather at first and other things, till somebody mentioned Easter. Then they all had something to say about that.

"What I object to," says Mr. Rabbit, when it came his time to talk, "is this thing of people always saying that the Easter eggs belong to me."

"Oh, but that's just a joke," says Mr. 'c.o.o.n, laughing.

"I know it's just a joke, of course, but it's a pretty old joke, and I'm tired of it," says Jack Rabbit.

"How did it get started anyway?" asked Mr. 'Possum.

Then Mr. Rabbit took his pipe out of his mouth and leaned forward a little, so he could talk better.

"I tell you how it got started," he says, "and after that I don't want to hear any more of it. This is how it happened:--

[Ill.u.s.tration: THEY CAME TO A LOG UNDER A BIG TREE AND SAT DOWN FOR A SMOKE AND TALK]

"Once upon a time, as much as twenty grandmothers back, I should think, there was a very nice family of Rabbits that lived in a gra.s.sy place on a hillside back of a big farmyard. There was quite a hole in the ground there, and they had a cozy home in it, and a soft bed for their little folk.

"Now, every bright morning, Father and Mother Rabbit used to take the children out for a walk, and for a few lessons in running and hiding from Mr. Dog, who bothered about a good deal, and one day as they were coming home they heard a great cackling, and when they got to their house there was a nice fresh egg lying right in the children's bed. Some old hen from the farmyard had slipped in and laid it while they were gone. A good many hens, especially old hens, like to hide their nests that way, and this was one of that kind.

"Well, of course all the young Rabbits claimed it, and Mother Rabbit at last gave it to the smallest and weakest one of the children, a little girl, who was always painting things with the juice of flower petals.

And the very first thing that little girl did was to stain that egg all over with violet juice, not thinking what trouble it was going to cause our family forever after.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THEY HAD A COZY HOME AND A SOFT BED FOR THEIR LITTLE FOLK]

"It was a nice blue egg when she got through with it, and the next day, when they all came back from their walk again there was another white egg right by it. The old hen had been there again and laid another while they were gone. The second little girl claimed that egg, of course, and she painted it a bright yellow with b.u.t.tercup juice. Then the next day there was another egg, and the next day there was another egg, and the next day there was another egg, until there was one apiece for every one of the children, and some over.

"And they all painted them. Some painted theirs pink or red with rose leaves or j.a.ponica, some painted them yellow with b.u.t.tercups, and some blue or purple with violets, as the first little girl had done. They had so many at last that it crowded them out of their bed and they had to sleep on the floor.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A FEW LESSONS IN RUNNING AND HIDING]

"And then, one Sunday, and it must have been Easter Sunday, they all went out walking again, and when they came back every one of those beautiful colored eggs was gone. The children cried and made a great fuss, but it was no use. Some of Mr. Man's boys out hunting hens' nests had found them and taken them all home with them.

"And of course all those colored eggs set Mr. Man to wondering, and he came with his boys to the place where they had found them; and when they looked in out jumped the whole Rabbit family, helter skelter in every direction.

"And right then," said Mr. Rabbit, leaning over to light his pipe from Mr. 'Possum's, "right then Mr. Man declared those colored eggs were rabbit eggs, and he's kept on saying so ever since, though he knows better, and he knows I don't like it. He takes eggs and colors them himself now, and makes believe they're mine, and he puts my picture all over things about Easter time. I suppose he thinks I don't care, but I do, and I wish that little Miss Rabbit twenty grandmothers back had left that old hen's egg white as she found it."

[Ill.u.s.tration: IT WAS A NICE BLUE EGG WHEN SHE GOT THROUGH WITH IT]

"It's too bad," says Mr. Crow. "It's like that story they tell about the fox making me drop the cheese."

"Or like Mr. Man making believe that the combs he uses are really made out of my sh.e.l.l," says Mr. Turtle.