Rataplan, a Rogue Elephant; and Other Stories Part 4

Cara looked round in surprise; there were strange men and women about, and strange animals that he had not seen before. There was a great deal of noise, too, which he did not approve of, and he, himself, appeared to attract a good deal of attention. He was made to turn round and show himself so many times that at last he lost his temper completely, and snapped and snarled in the most savage manner. But finally a rope was thrown over his head, and he was led away, much against his will, by a strange man. Cara would not have gone at all, only that the cord around his neck hurt so much when the man pulled it, that he found that it was much better to follow him.

From that day Cara never saw his mother again. But as he had plenty of food in the shape of green vegetables and roots, and had a nice, comfortable place in which to lie down, Cara--I grieve to say--soon forgot all about his mother, and made himself perfectly at home in his new surroundings. He was quite happy--although he never forgot to grumble--as there were many young camels with him, and fine times they had together. But he often thought of Camer and her nice little ways.

So things went on until Cara was four years old, and then his troubles began, for he was no longer to be an idle animal, spending all his time in gamboling about, but was taught to wear first, a halter, then a bridle, and finally a thing was put on his back, which nearly frightened him to death. Not that it was so very heavy, but because he had never had anything on his back before, and he did not like the feeling of it. He made as much trouble as he possibly could, and grumbled to his heart's content, but it was of no use. The horrible thing turned out to be a saddle, which was strapped on in spite of kicks and groans and snappings of his strong, white teeth, and finally, finding that it was of no use, Cara gave in and carried his burden patiently, as all other camels do.

But all this training took some time, and it was not for another year or two that Cara was really of much use. But he was a particularly strong, well-grown young animal, and, in spite of his grumbling, was a valuable animal.

He reached his full growth when he was sixteen years old, and was then a fine specimen of an Arabian camel. He had good, broad feet, with well-developed cus.h.i.+ons; sinewy limbs; a strong body, and a very fine hump, of which he was extremely proud.

He changed masters again at this time, and, to his astonishment, found that he was the chief camel, and was to carry the master of the tribe, preceding the others, attended by horses and servants. Cara now had a fine time of it. He had very little to do except to carry his master and a very handsome saddle. His journeys were short, and altogether he had about as easy a time of it as it is possible for a camel to have.

His master was fond and proud of him, for he was wonderfully handsome for a camel and of abnormal size.

At one time he rendered his master a great service, for there had been a long drought, and no water could be found anywhere. Cara, however, had the acute sense of smell which all camels have, and one day when very thirsty broke out of his stable, and, smelling water about a mile off, set forth to get some. He was followed by some of the servants, who guessed what had happened, and, to their great joy, Cara led them to a spring of fresh water.

No doubt he would have lived to a good old age--say forty or fifty years--but that one day, breaking out of his stable again--a thing Cara was rather fond of doing--he wandered about, and, coming across a nice-looking, green plant, he promptly proceeded to eat it. But, alas!

the nice-looking plant was a deadly poison called by the Arabs "camel poison," and, soon after eating it, Cara became very ill, and was scarcely able to get back with slow and weary steps to his comfortable stable, where, after a few short groans, he lay down and died.

And this was the end of Cara.

It was very sad, and his master shed bitter tears over his handsome camel. But, you see, it was Cara's own stupidity, for, like the rest of his tribe, he would always eat anything that was green, no matter where it grew or what it looked like.

SICCATEE, THE SQUIRREL

Poor Siccatee was in great trouble.

She had been very busy for some time past laying up food for the winter, and it had taken many weeks' hard work. She had selected the very best nuts, acorns, corn, berries and seeds, and all through the beautiful autumn days had scarcely rested for a moment, so eager had she been to lay in a good stock.

Not a single unsound, worm-eaten or empty nut had she allowed to go into her stores. She had taken each one in her little fore paws, looked it carefully over, turning and twisting it about and examining it from every point of view with her keen little eyes; and then, when she had made quite sure that it was a good one and perfectly sound, she had trotted off with it in her quick way, which was something between a hop and a gallop, and hidden it in a nice place at the root of some old tree, or in some cleverly hidden crevice.

Her husband had helped her as much as he could, and had contributed many dainties.

Their beautiful home was in a wood by the side of the sea, and the people in the big house at the bottom of the wood sometimes threw out dainties in the shape of fruit, sc.r.a.ps of meat and bread, and many kinds of berries.

But Siccatee herself was too frightened to go down on the beach, for she was a very nervous little thing. Sentre, her husband, was quite daring, and not easily frightened. They had worked very hard together, and their children, who were now getting quite strong and big, had done their best to help them. Only that morning Siccatee woke up feeling quite bright and cheerful, for she had acc.u.mulated nearly enough winter food for herself and her little ones; but then, that very afternoon, just as she was taking two big beechnuts to one of her secret hiding-places, she saw two Horrible Humans standing close to it.

Siccatee suddenly stopped, hugging the two nuts tightly to her breast with her funny little paws, and whisking her tail nervously up and down, making waves in the pretty, gray fur, while her nervous little mouth worked convulsively. For, oh, what should she do if they found her treasures?

Quick as a flash she bounded behind a tree, for, with her wonderfully quick eyesight and senses always on the alert, she scented danger in a moment.

Once behind a tree, nothing could be seen of Siccatee but her bright eyes and just the tip of her bushy tail. And even these were not noticed by the Humans.

After all, the Horrible Humans were only a little boy and a little girl. But, oh, what mischief they did in the next few moments! They seemed to be picking ferns and flowers, and for a few moments Siccatee hoped that they would pa.s.s her h.o.a.rding-place unnoticed. But, alas!

just as they were turning away, the little boy caught sight of the hollow in the tree, and, having a boy's natural curiosity, he straightway went to investigate.

Siccatee's little heart beat and throbbed and thumped until she felt nearly suffocated. Her bright little eyes almost started out of her head with fear, and her tail waved, and waved, and waved--a true index of the agitation of its owner.

She remembered that she had hidden her treasures in the tree as far back as she could go, and had carefully covered them with some powdery earth. Perhaps they would think there was only earth in the hollow and not disturb it.

But in another moment the boy gave a scream of delight. For a moment Siccatee could not see what he was doing, as his body was bent over the hole. Then he suddenly stood up and called to his sister, and there, dragged out on the ground and strewn all about, was one of Siccatee's beautiful winter h.o.a.rds!

She did not know herself, until she saw it thrown out, what a quant.i.ty of food she and her family had collected.

The Humans did not seem to want the things after all, for the boy kicked them about, which made Siccatee very angry. And the little girl, after picking them up, threw them down again.

It was so dreadful to see her precious treasures strewn about in this fas.h.i.+on, and kicked and bruised, that Siccatee, in spite of her self- control, gave a little, sobbing cry.

The children heard it, and suddenly caught sight of her, and then, oh, what a chase began! The boy began to throw stones and pieces of wood, and actually dared to throw some of her own nuts at Siccatee.

By this time she was at the top of the tree, and now her grief changed to anger--real anger--and she sat on one of the boughs and scolded as hard as she could. Her funny little "prit, prit, p-r-i-t," amused the children, and the more she scolded the more they laughed.

At last Siccatee grew disgusted and left that tree to go to another, and then another, and still another; springing such distances and at such a height that the children thought she would be dashed to pieces every moment. But not a bit of it. Siccatee, like all squirrels, was very sure-footed, and rarely made a false step. If, by any chance, she should loose her foothold, she would spread out her legs and funny, bushy tail, drop lightly to the ground and bound away as though nothing had happened. But she took care not to lose her foothold now, with those Horrible Humans so near. All she thought about was to get away from them as quickly as possible, and to lead them away from her other hiding-places.

Luckily they had found but one. She had several others near the big tree--for this was her home tree, and there she and her husband had lived for two or three years, and reared several families.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "SAT ON ONE OF THE BOUGHS AND SCOLDED AS HARD AS SHE COULD."]

But while all this was going on, Siccatee called to her husband, and in a very few minutes he joined her. He was much bigger than Siccatee and not so nervous, and on hearing what had happened flew into a great rage, and dared and defied his enemies in the same way that his wife had done--that is, by sitting on a bough and scolding them.

The children pelted the two squirrels with everything they could find, but they dodged so quickly and so cleverly that not a single thing touched them.

But after a time the children grew tired of throwing stones and sticks, and as it made their necks ache to look up so high, they gave up the chase and went home, and that was the last that Sentre and Siccatee saw of them for a long time.

But this unpleasant incident had upset them both very much, and when their children joined them a few minutes later, they gave them many warnings and cautions about always keeping a sharp lookout for danger.

At last all ventured down, and, while keeping a sharp lookout with their bright little eyes, gazed on the ruin the children had wrought.

Fortunately, it was not the most valuable of their h.o.a.rds, for it contained no eggs or insects.

After much consultation and discussion, the squirrels decided not to use this hiding-place again--at any rate, not that winter--for it would never do to run the risk of having it disturbed a second time.

So they set to work, found a nice crevice in a big rock, and worked hard all day long collecting another store.

Siccatee would not allow her family to eat too many nuts just then.

She knew that the time was coming when young birds, mice and insects would be very scarce. So she impressed it upon them to make the very most of their time, and eat as much of that kind of food as they could get. They might have a nut or two, occasionally, she said, and meanwhile she would teach them the proper way in which to eat a nut or an egg.

Siccatee had found an egg in some hay in a little wooden hut, next to the house at the foot of the wood, and this she had carried very carefully to one of her stores. She considered that this would be a good time to teach her children--there were two of them, fine young specimens of American squirrels--their first important lesson.

So she stood up, holding the egg firmly with her fore paws, then, with a crisp snap of her sharp little teeth, she broke the sh.e.l.l, and cleverly sucked out the inside of it; not all, because she wanted her little ones to taste and see how good an egg really was. And very good they thought it--so good that in a few moments the egg was empty and the two young squirrels were quarreling over the sh.e.l.l. But Siccatee soon settled that by a scolding and several sharp pats.

But she had not finished her lesson yet, and next showed them how to eat a nut. She held the nut very much in the same way that she had held the egg. First of all, she bit off one end of the nut with her teeth, then broke away the rest of the sh.e.l.l, carefully pulling off the little brown husk on the kernel, then munched it in her funny little way as though it was the greatest dainty she had ever tasted.

The young squirrels grew quite excited over this, and kept breaking and peeling nuts until their mother told them they had had enough, and sent them off to bed for the night.

Soon after this winter suddenly appeared, covering the earth and trees and bushes with a thick, white mantle--so thick and white that all the paths in the woods were hidden and all the trees and bushes looked alike, but Sentre and Siccatee and their children knew their home, and, having wonderful memories, never made a mistake about finding either their home or their stores of food.

Some of their storehouses were quite a distance off, and in various directions, but never by any chance did either Sentre or Siccatee forget where they were. And, although the soft, white mantle had covered all the little hiding-places, neither were in the least uneasy, but, when one or the other wanted something for dinner, they trotted off lightly and nimbly, making straight for one of the h.o.a.rds; scratching away the snow, and having taken out a few nuts, or berries, or dried sc.r.a.ps of meat, or bread, scrambled off to eat it at his or her leisure.