Back and forth in front of the brush from which the other stranger was peeping very shyly this great bird strutted. He would stand still so that the sun would fall full on his shining coat and show it off to the best advantage, and at the same time he would draw in a great deal of air and then puff it out all at once. Then he would walk a few steps, turn, drag his wings on the ground to make them rustle, wheel, and run a few steps. Never had Peter seen such vanity, such conceit, such imposing, puffed-up pride. He watched until he grew tired, and then he stole away and hurried over to the Smiling Pool to tell Grandfather Frog all about it and ask who these strangers were.

"Chug-a-rum!" exclaimed Grandfather Frog, opening his big mouth very wide to laugh at Peter and his excitement. "That was Big Tom Gobbler, and he was doing all that for the benefit of Mrs. Gobbler, who was hiding in that brush. It was her head you saw. Big Tom is the most conceited fellow in the Green Forest. He dearly loves to strut. He is just like his father and his grandfather and his great-grandfather. The Gobblers never have gotten over strutting since Old Mr. Gobbler, the first of the family, got the habit."

"Tell me about it. Please, Grandfather Frog, tell me about it," begged Peter. "How did Old Mr. Gobbler get the habit?"

Grandfather Frog chuckled. "He got it from admiring his own reflection in a pool of water," said he. "You see, in those days way back when the world was young, people had more time to form habits than they do now. With plenty to eat and little to do, they had more time to think about themselves than they do now. Old Mr. Gobbler soon discovered that he was the biggest of all the birds in that part of the Great World where he lived, and this discovery was, I suspect, the beginning of his vanity. Then one day as he was walking along, he came to a little pool of water. It was very clear, and there wasn't a ripple on the surface. There for the first time Mr. Gobbler saw his reflection. The more he looked, the better he liked his own appearance. He spread his tail just to see how it would look in the water. Then he puffed himself out and strutted.

"'There is nobody to compare with me,' thought he, and strutted more than ever.

"After that he used to steal away every day to admire himself in that little pool of water. He tried new ways of strutting and of puffing himself out. After a while he was no longer content to admire himself. He wanted others to admire him. So the first chance he got he began to strut and show off all his grand airs before Mrs. Gobbler. At first she paid no attention to him. At least that is the way she appeared. She would turn her back on him and walk off into the bushes. This made Old Mr. Gobbler very angry until he discovered that she would tiptoe back and watch him admiringly when she thought he didn't know it. That made him strut all the more.

"At first all the neighbors used to gather around and admire him and tell him how handsome he was until his head was quite turned, as the saying is, and he spent most of his time strutting and showing off. Then he took to bragging and boasting that there was no bird to compare with him. Thus he became quite unbearable, and all his neighbors would turn their backs on him when they saw him coming. Only Mrs. Gobbler continued to watch in secret and to admire him.

"Now in those days Mr. Gobbler didn't have a red head and neck. One day Old Mother Nature happened along when Mr. Gobbler was strutting and boasting how big and brave he was. He didn't see her, and she watched him quietly for a few minutes. Then she slipped away and hunted up Mr. Wolf.

"'I want you to steal over where Mr. Gobbler is strutting,' said she, 'and suddenly spring out at him as if you intended to catch him.'

"Mr. Wolf grinned and trotted off to do her bidding. He found Mr. Gobbler swelled up until he looked as if he must burst, and bragging to Mrs. Gobbler.

"'I'm the biggest of all the birds,' bragged Mr. Gobbler. 'I'm afraid of no one. While you have me with you, my dear, you have nothing in all the Great World to fear.'

"Just then out sprang Mr. Wolf with all his long, sharp teeth showing. Mr. Gobbler gave a yelp of fright. He lost his swelled-up appearance as suddenly as a bubble flattens out when it is pricked. With a frantic beating of his wings he took to the air. Being in such a fright, he didn't see where he was going, and struck his head against a sharp twig, which tore the skin, for there were no feathers to protect it, and made it bleed. The blood ran all over his head and down his neck, though he really was hardly hurt at all. From the top of a tall tree he looked down. There stood Old Mother Nature, looking up at him.

"'Mr. Gobbler,' said she, 'you have acquired a bad habit, a very bad habit. Hereafter, whenever you become vain and strut, your head and neck shall become as red as they now are, as a reminder to you and all who see you of how silly it is to be vain and boastful.'

"And so it was. And so it is with Big Tom Gobbler to this day. There is nothing in the world more foolish than vanity," concluded Grandfather Frog.



XII

WHERE SEEK-SEEK GOT HIS PRETTY COAT

Peter Rabbit never will forget the first time he saw Seek-Seek the Ground Squirrel, often wrongly called Gopher or Gopher Squirrel, but whose real name is Spermophile, which means seed eater. Peter won't forget that meeting, because of the funny mistake he made and the foolish feeling he had as a result of it. You see, Peter didn't know that there was such a person as Seek-Seek. He was hopping along across the Green Meadows in his usual happy-go-lucky way when, right in front of him, he saw what at first he took to be a stake, a small stake, driven in the ground. But as he drew nearer, it suddenly moved. It wasn't a stake at all, but a very lively small person in a striped coat who had been sitting up very straight and motionless.

"Hello, Striped Chipmunk! What are you doing way out here so far from the old stone wall?" exclaimed Peter.

The small person in the striped coat whirled and faced Peter with snapping eyes. "Don't call me Striped Chipmunk, and don't call me Gopher!" said he very fiercely for so small a person. "I am neither one. I am Seek-Seek the Ground Squirrel, and I'll thank you to call me by my own name. I am getting everlastingly tired of being called the names of other people."

Peter looked very foolish. "I beg your pardon," said he. "I do indeed. I'm sorry. Perhaps you don't know it, but you look very much like Striped Chipmunk, who is one of my best friends. You look so much like him that I thought you must be him. I wonder if you are related to him."

"Certainly I'm related to him, or he is related to me, whichever way you please to put it," snapped Seek-Seek. "We are cousins. But he is a Rock Squirrel, and I am a Ground Squirrel which is altogether different. You don't find me where there are rocks and stones in the way if I know it. Besides, if you used your eyes, you would see that we are not dressed alike either. Just because we both happen to wear stripes is no reason why we should be mistaken for each other."

Peter looked at Seek-Seek more closely than he had, and at once he made a discovery. "Why!" he exclaimed, "your coat has more stripes than Striped Chipmunk's has, hasn't it?"

"I should hope so," retorted Seek-Seek.

"And it has little rows of spots, too!" cried Peter. "If I had noticed those spots at first, I wouldn't have made such a foolish mistake. I do believe that your coat is prettier than Striped Chipmunk's, and I had thought his as pretty as a coat can be."

Seek-Seek looked rather pleased, though he tried not to. "Huh!" he sniffed. "Of course it's prettier. It took you a long time to find it out. I wouldn't trade coats with Striped Chipmunk or anybody else of my acquaintance."

"Neither would I if I were in your place," declared Peter. "I wish Old Mother Nature had given me a coat like that." He said this so wistfully that Seek-Seek, who had started to laugh, turned his head so that Peter might not know it. "I'm afraid it wouldn't look so well on one as big as you," he replied. "Anyway, you wouldn't be able to hide from your enemies as you can now."

"That's so," said Peter thoughtfully. "I would be easily seen in a coat like that, for a fact. I hadn't thought of that. I guess Old Mother Nature knows best. I—I wonder how she ever happened to think of a coat like yours."

Seek-Seek chuckled. He had quite forgotten that he had felt offended because Peter had mistaken him for his cousin, Striped Chipmunk. He enjoyed Peter's admiration of his coat. He is naturally rather talkative, and like most folks he enjoyed talking about himself.

"This coat," said he, "has been in the family a very great while. Of course, I don't mean this particular coat that I am wearing," he hastened to add, as he saw Peter beginning to grin. "I mean this style of coat has been in the family a very long time. My father was dressed just as I am. So was his father and—"

"I know," interrupted Peter. "You were going to say that so were all your grandfathers way back to the days when the world was young, and Old Mother Nature made the very first one of your family. It's funny to me that all the interesting things happened such a long time ago. Now wasn't that what you were going to say?"

Seek-Seek admitted that it was, and looked a little disappointed that Peter had guessed it. But a second later he felt better when Peter asked him very politely but very earnestly for the story of how the first Ground Squirrel got such a pretty coat. "There is a story. I know there is a story," declared Peter. "Won't you tell it to me please, Seek-Seek?"

Now Peter didn't want to hear it any more than Seek-Seek wanted to tell it, so while Peter squatted down comfortably, Seek-Seek sat up very straight and began the story.

"First of all, you must know that Seek-Seek is an old family name which has been handed down just as the pattern of my coat has been. The very first of all my great-great-grandfathers was called Seek-Seek. When Old Mother Nature made Seek-Seek she must have had two families in mind at one time, the Marmot family and the Squirrel family, for she made him a little like each, so that in his looks he sort of fitted in between the two. Mother Nature told him that he was a member of the Squirrel family and set him free to find a place for himself in the Great World.

"Now it didn't take Grandfather Seek-Seek long to find out that though he might be a member of the Squirrel family, Old Mother Nature had failed to furnish him with the right kind of claws for climbing trees, as most of his cousins did. True, he could climb a little, but it was not easy, and he felt anything but comfortable off the ground. But if those claws were of little use for climbing they were splendid tools for digging, just as are the claws of the Marmot family. So Old Mother Nature must have been thinking of the Marmots when she fashioned those claws.

"At first Seek-Seek wandered about trying to find a place for himself in the Great World. Being a Squirrel, he tried to live as did his cousins, Mr. Red Squirrel and Mr. Gray Squirrel, but on account of those claws he didn't make much of a success of it. Then one day he met Mr. Chipmunk. They stopped and stared at each other in surprise because, you know, their coats were so much alike. At that time Seek-Seek was wearing plain stripes, just as Striped Chipmunk does to this day.

"'What do you mean by stealing my coat?' demanded Mr. Chipmunk angrily.

"'I was just about to ask you the same question,' retorted Seek-Seek.

"Mr. Chipmunk had a sharp reply right on the tip of his tongue, but he checked it just in time. 'What's the use of quarreling over something neither of us had anything to do with?' said he. 'It must be that we are cousins. Where do you live?'

"Seek-Seek explained that he didn't live anywhere in particular but was trying to find his place in the Great World. He told how he had tried to live like the other Squirrels and failed. 'I know! I know all about it,' interrupted Mr. Chipmunk. 'I've been all through it. The place for us is on the ground or at least close to it. Come see how I live.'

"So Seek-Seek went with Mr. Chipmunk and saw how he lived among the rocks and stones. For a time he tried living there too, but he didn't like the rocks and stones much better than he did the trees. Besides, all the neighbors were forever mistaking him for Mr. Chipmunk because they looked so much alike, and he didn't like this. One day he wandered out on the Green Meadows. It was very lovely out there among the grasses and flowers. He wandered farther and farther, and the farther he wandered the better he liked it. By and by he came to the home of Yap-Yap the Prairie Dog, who is one of the Marmot family, as you know.

"'A home like that would suit me,' thought Grandfather Seek-Seek wistfully, as he journeyed on. 'I wonder if I could dig one. I believe I'll try.'

"So when he found a place to suit him he began to dig. There were no stones to hurt his feet and dull his nails, and he actually enjoyed digging. So he dug and dug until he had a wonderful underground home. All about were plenty of seeds and tender grasses to eat, and he was happy. He had found his place in the Great World. Then one day along came Old Mother Nature. 'Hello, Mr. Chipmunk,' she exclaimed, as she caught sight of his striped coat, 'what are you doing way out here?'

"Then she discovered her mistake. 'Dear me,' said she, 'this will never do at all. If I can't tell my own children apart, how can I expect others to? Your coat is altogether too much like that of Mr. Chipmunk. I must change it. I certainly must change it.'

"She leaned over and lightly tapped Seek-Seek right down the length of the broadest brown stripe of his coat. Wherever her finger touched a little spot of yellow was left. Then she did the same thing to each of the other brown stripes. When she had finished Grandfather Seek-Seek had a coat exactly like the one I am now wearing, and his cup of happiness was filled to the brim. From that day on he never was mistaken for Mr. Chipmunk or any one else. That's the story of my coat, and now I must get busy collecting seeds for my storehouse," concluded Seek-Seek. "Come and see me again, Peter Rabbit."

"I will," replied Peter, as he started for the dear Old Briar-patch to tell Mrs. Peter all about Seek-Seek and his pretty coat.



XIII

WHERE OLD MR. OSPREY LEARNED TO FISH

Peter Rabbit had seen a very strange thing. It was strange to Peter, anyway. It gave him something to think about, and this, I am sure you will agree, was a most excellent thing, for it kept him out of mischief for a while. He had been over to the Smiling Pool for a call on Jerry Muskrat and had just started back for the dear Old Briar-patch when he chanced to look over in the direction of the Big River. Coming straight towards him, but high in the air, was a big bird, a bird with broad wings. Peter didn't have to look twice to know that it was a member of the Hawk family. At first he thought it was Redtail. Then he caught a flash of white, and he thought it was Whitetail the Marsh Hawk, in spite of the fact that it didn't fly like him. Peter didn't stop to think of that. It was enough for him that a member of the Hawk family was headed that way, and he didn't care a twitch of his funny little tail which member it was. He felt that the stomach of one was quite as undesirable a place for Peter Rabbit as the stomach of another, and he had no intention of filling any if he could help it.

He remembered that there was an old house of Johnny Chuck's under the Big Hickory-tree on the bank of the Smiling Pool, and he wasted no time in getting there, lipperty-lipperty-lip, as fast as he could go. He would stay there until the way was clear to get home to the dear Old Briar-patch. As soon as he was safe in the old house of Johnny Chuck, he turned and poked his head out of the doorway. He wanted to see if any one would be caught. He hoped not, but if any one was caught, he wanted to see. You know Peter never misses anything if he can help it. On came Mr. Hawk, and when he was right over the Smiling Pool, he turned and made a short circle high in the air. Then Peter saw that he had a white waist-coat and was a stranger.

"I wonder who he is?" thought Peter, staring very hard. "He's bigger than either Redtail or Whitetail. I hope he isn't going to make his home here, because we have trouble enough as it is."

Suddenly Mr. Hawk paused high up in the air, then closed his wings and shot straight down like an arrow. Plunge! Peter couldn't believe his own eyes. Mr. Hawk actually had disappeared in the Smiling Pool! A second later there was a great splashing, and out of the water rose Mr. Hawk, flapping his great wings heavily, scattering spray in all directions. Up, up he went, and then Peter saw that in his great claws was a fish. Peter watched him fly away with the fish, and when he felt that it was quite safe to do so, he came out. Over on the end of an old log among the bulrushes sat Jerry Muskrat just where Peter had left him. It was very plain that Jerry hadn't been the least bit frightened by Mr. Hawk. Peter couldn't understand it. His eyes fairly popped out of his head with excitement and curiosity.

"Who was that?" he asked eagerly.

"That? Why, that was Plunger the Osprey, though some people call him Fish Hawk," replied Jerry. "I thought everybody knew him. Why did you run away, Peter? He wouldn't hurt you."

"Huh! I wouldn't trust any Hawk!" snapped Peter.

"Which goes to show how little you know!" retorted Jerry Muskrat. "Plunger never bothers anybody but the fish, but he surely is a terror to them. Old Mother Nature knew what she was doing when she made fishermen out of that family, didn't she?"

"She certainly did, though I've never heard how she came to do it. How did it happen, Jerry?" Peter was doing some fishing himself. He was fishing for a story.

Jerry Muskrat grinned. "Think you'll sleep any better if I tell you?" he inquired.

Peter grinned back and nodded. So Jerry Muskrat told him this story:

"Way back in the days when the world was young, and the great-great-ever-so-great-grandfathers of all the little people of the Green Meadows and the Green Forest of today were being started out in life by Old Mother Nature, they had everything to learn. The Great World was a new place, and they were new in it. No one knew exactly his place or what was expected of him, and Old Mother Nature was too busy to be bothered with questions. She expected each one to work out for himself a way in which to make himself useful, or at least to take care of himself, without bothering her. If he couldn't do that, she didn't want him around at all, and the sooner something happened to him the better. So the Great World began to be peopled with birds and animals.

"It didn't take them long to learn that it wouldn't be possible for all to live if they all ate the same kind of food. So some learned to eat one thing and some another, and all went happily until there came a time when all food was scarce, and more stomachs were empty than full. You've heard about that hard time and sad time?"

Peter nodded, and Jerry took a drink of water and then went on with his tale.

"Of course, that was really a very dreadful time, for it was then that the strong began to hunt the weak, and fear was born into the world. And yet I guess it wasn't wholly bad. Nothing is, so far as I can find out. Anyway, because of that hard time, everybody became a little smarter than before. You know an empty stomach sharpens wit, and fear puts a fine edge on it. Now Mr. Osprey, who was one of the biggest of the cousins of old King Eagle, couldn't get over a feeling of meanness whenever he hunted those smaller than himself. One day he caught little Mr. Sparrow when little Mr. Sparrow was so busy that he forgot to watch out.

"'I'm powerful sorry, Mr. Sparrow,' apologized Mr. Osprey, 'but there's an emptiness just about your size in my stomach, and it won't give me any peace of mind until it's filled. I hate to make a neighbor uncomfortable, and I'll be just as quick and accommodating about this little matter as I can. If you'll just shut your eyes, you won't see anything unpleasant, and I won't be a minute in getting that peace of mind I've been without so long. I just must have it, or I wouldn't bother you at all. I hope you won't hold it against me, Mr. Sparrow.'

"Mr. Osprey was so nice and polite about it that little Mr. Sparrow perked up a little and started his wits working. He tried to be just as nice and polite as Mr. Osprey. 'I know just how you feel, Mr. Osprey,' said he, in a trembling voice, 'and during these hard times I've had that same ailment of the mind because of lonesomeness of the stomach, which is troubling you. So long as that emptiness is filled, I don't suppose it matters to you if I shouldn't happen to fill it.'

"'Not at all,' replied Mr. Osprey.

"'Mr. Osprey,' said little Mr. Sparrow very earnestly, 'if I were in your place, I never would go hungry. No, Sir, I never would go hungry. And I certainly never, never would trouble any of my neighbors who wear feathers. I certainly would feel most happy if Old Mother Nature had given me what she has given you. Indeed I would.'

"Mr. Osprey looked down at little Mr. Sparrow and blinked at him in a puzzled way. 'What has Old Mother Nature given me that you would be happy to have?' he asked.

"'Fishhooks!' replied little Mr. Sparrow, pointing to Mr. Osprey's great claws, 'the finest fishhooks in the world. You don't hear Billy Mink or Little Joe Otter or Mr. Heron complaining about hard times. Why? Because they don't know what hard times are. There are plenty of fish to be caught, and when they are hungry they go fishing. Fish are very filling and satisfying, I've heard say. When I flew across the Smiling Pool a little while ago, I saw a fat fish taking a sun-bath right close to the top of the water. Seemed like he was just waiting for some one with hooks to come along and snatch him right out of the water.'

"'Where'd you say that fish was?' asked Mr. Osprey.

"'If you'll let me go, I'll show you,' replied little Mr. Sparrow.

"So Mr. Osprey let little Mr. Sparrow go, but he followed him right close. Mr. Sparrow led the way straight to the Smiling Pool. Sure enough, there was the big fish taking a sun-bath. Mr. Osprey hardly wet his feet putting those big hooks into that fish. He flew away with it, and presently he was rid of that emptiness in his stomach and had back his peace of mind. After that, whenever he was hungry, he went fishing instead of hunting the birds and the animals. By practice he learned how to use those big fishhooks of his and became one of the smartest of all fishermen. He and little Mr. Sparrow became great friends, in fact, such friends that when Mr. Osprey built a great nest, little Mr. Sparrow built his right in the side of it, and there he was perfectly safe from others who might be hunting him. And it's been just that way ever since. If you wore scales instead of fur, and lived in the water instead of on the land, Peter Rabbit, you would have reason to fear Plunger the Osprey, but as it is, you are safer when he is about than when he isn't. There comes old Redtail the Hawk. You'd better get out of sight, Peter."

Peter did.



XIV

WHERE OLD MR. BOB-CAT LEFT HIS HONOR

Of all those who are forever trying to catch Peter Rabbit, he fears none more than Yowler the Bob-cat. And from that fear has grown hate. You will find it true all through life that hate often springs from great fear. Peter isn't much given to hate, but he does hate Yowler the Bob-cat. It is partly because of his fear of Yowler, but it is still more because he feels that Yowler is not fair in his hunting. He has no honor. There are many others whom Peter fears,—Reddy Fox, Old Man Coyote, Hooty the Owl,—and with very good reason. But Peter considers that these hunt him fairly. He knows when and where to be on the watch for them.

But with Yowler it is altogether different. Yowler hides beside one of Peter's favorite little paths, and there he waits patiently for unsuspecting Peter to come along. He waits and watches much as Black Pussy, who is a cousin of Yowler, waits and watches at a mousehole. Peter feels that it doesn't give him a chance, and everybody is entitled to at least a chance to live.

"I hate him! hate him! hate him!" exclaimed Peter fiercely, as he crawled under the very middle of a great pile of brush after the narrowest of narrow escapes. He had been hopping along one of his favorite little paths without a thought of danger. Presently he came to a little branch path. There he hesitated. He had intended to keep on along the main path, but suddenly he had a feeling that it would be better to take the branch path. He knew no reason why he shouldn't keep on as he had planned. It was just a feeling that it would be better to take the other path, a feeling without any real reason. So he hesitated and finally turned down the little branch path. As he did so he caught a glimpse of a brown form moving stealthily from behind a log farther up the main little path. It was moving swiftly in the direction of the little branch path. That glimpse was enough for Peter. That stealthy form could be but one person—Yowler the Bob-cat. He turned and darted back the way he had come and then off to one side to the great pile of brush under which he had crawled.

"Who is it you hate?" asked a voice.

For just a second Peter was startled, then he recognized the voice of Mrs. Grouse, one of his very best friends. "Yowler the Bob-cat," said he as fiercely as before.

"I don't love him myself," replied Mrs. Grouse. "I suspected that he was somewhere about, and that is why I am here. Did you see him?"

"Yes," said Peter, "I saw him. He was hiding beside my favorite little path, and it is a wonder I didn't hop straight into his jaws. That fellow doesn't hunt fairly. He doesn't give us a chance. He hasn't any honor."

"Honor!" exclaimed Mrs. Grouse. "Honor! Of course he hasn't any honor. There hasn't been any honor in Yowler's family since old Mr. Bob-cat, the first of all the Bob-cats, left his honor in Turkey Wood, way back in the days when the world was young, and failed to get it again. Honor! Of course Yowler hasn't any. What could you expect?"

At once Peter was all ears. "I've never heard about that," said he. "Tell me about it, Mrs. Grouse. We've got to stay right where we are for a long time to make sure that Yowler has given us up and gone away, so you will have plenty of time to tell me the story. Where was Turkey Wood, and how did old Mr. Bob-cat happen to leave his honor there?"

"He didn't happen to; he did it deliberately," replied Mrs. Grouse. "You see, it was like this: In the beginning of things, when Old Mother Nature made the first little people and the first big people of the Green Forest and the Green Meadows, she was too busy to watch over them all the time, so for a while she put them on their honor not to harm one another or interfere with one another in any way, for she wanted them to live in peace and happiness and raise families to people the Great World.

"Now it chanced that Mr. and Mrs. Gobbler, the first of the Turkey family, chose a certain little grove of trees in which to make their home, and it became known as Turkey Wood. There, in course of time, Mrs. Turkey made her nest on the ground, well hidden among some bushes, and in it laid twelve big eggs. It was the day on which she laid the twelfth big egg that old Mr. Bob-cat, who, of course, wasn't old then, took it into his head to prowl about in Turkey Wood. Already Mr. Bob-cat had begun to form a sneaky habit of stealth. He was very fond of watching his neighbors to find out what they were about, and it was this fondness of minding the business of other people instead of his own that was making him sneaky and stealthy, for of course he didn't want any one to know what he was doing.

"It happened that as he stole into Turkey Wood, Mrs. Gobbler left her nest to get a bite to eat. Mr. Bob-cat saw her, but she didn't see him. He crouched flat until she was out of sight.

"'She seemed mighty careful about how she slipped out of those bushes,' thought Mr. Bob-cat. 'She acted as if she didn't want to be seen. I wonder why. I wonder if she has a secret hidden in those bushes. I suppose the way to find out is to look.'

"First making sure that no one saw him, Mr. Bob-cat crept in his sneaky way into the bushes, and it didn't take him long to find that nest with the twelve big eggs. He didn't know what they were, for they were the first eggs he had ever seen. He stared at them and wondered if they were good to eat. He glanced this way and that way to be sure that no one was watching him.

"'Don't touch them,' warned something inside of him. 'These belong to Mrs. Gobbler, and Old Mother Nature has put you on your honor not to interfere with others or their affairs.'

"'It won't do any harm just to touch them and see what they are like,' said another little tempting voice inside of him.

"'Remember your honor,' warned the first little voice.

"'Bother my honor! I'm not going to do any harm,' muttered Mr. Bob-cat, and picked up one of the eggs in his mouth. He tried it with his teeth to see if it was hard, and of course he put his teeth right through the shell. He started to put it back in a hurry, but just then he noticed a good taste in his mouth. The inside of that egg was good to eat, very good indeed!

"'One won't be missed,' thought Mr. Bob-cat, and then, fearing that Mrs. Gobbler would return, he bounded away, taking the egg with him.

"When Mrs. Gobbler returned, she did miss that egg. She looked all about for it, but there was nothing to show what had become of it. With a troubled mind she began to sit on her eggs. She was so worried that she didn't leave them until she simply had to get something to eat.

"Meanwhile Mr. Bob-cat had eaten that egg, and it had tasted so good that he could think of nothing but how he could get another. So at the first opportunity he sneaked back to Turkey Wood, and without making a sound crept in among the bushes until he could see Mrs. Gobbler sitting on her eggs. There he lay and watched and watched until Mrs. Gobbler left to get something to eat. No sooner was she out of sight than Mr. Bob-cat stole to the nest.

"'Remember your honor,' warned the little voice inside.

"'Bother honor. I'd rather have an egg,' muttered Mr. Bob-cat, and pulled one out of the nest. He bit a hole in one end and sucked out the contents. It was so good he took another. This led to a third, and finally Mr. Bob-cat had sucked every one of those eggs. Then silently he sneaked away—away from Turkey Wood to a distant part of the Green Forest. Behind him in Turkey Wood he left a nestful of empty shells and his honor.

"'Nobody knows who did it, and nobody ever will find out,' thought Mr. Bob-cat, but all the time he knew that he had left his honor behind, and this made him more sneaky than ever. He never would meet any one face to face. You know that is something that one who has lost his honor never can do. It wasn't long before all his neighbors knew that he was without honor, and so would have nothing to do with him. They shunned him. He grew to be more and more of a sneak. And all the time he believed that no one knew what he had done or where he had left his honor.

"But Old Mother Nature knew. Of course Mrs. Gobbler told her what had happened to her eggs. Old Mother Nature told her to make a new nest and hide it more carefully than before, which Mrs. Gobbler did and hatched out ten fine young Gobblers. Meanwhile Old Mother Nature went about her business, but all the time she was watching to see who would fail to look her straight in the face. The first time she met Mr. Bob-cat he tried to slip past unseen. When Old Mother Nature stepped in front of him, he couldn't look her in the face, try as he would.

"'Ah-ha!' said she. 'You are the one who left his honor in Turkey Wood. From this time forth you shall be an outcast, friendless and alone, hated by every one.'

"And so it was, and has been ever since. And so it is with Yowler today. You said truly, Peter, that he hasn't any honor. Isn't it dreadful?"

And Peter agreed that it is.



XV

WHERE DIPPY THE LOON GOT THE NAME OF BEING CRAZY

As you all know, Peter Rabbit is out and about at a time when most folks are snugly tucked in bed. The fact is, Peter is very fond of roaming around at night. He says he feels safer then in spite of the fact that some of his smartest enemies are also out and about, among them Hooty the Owl and Reddy Fox and Old Man Coyote. The two latter also hunt by day when the fancy takes them or they have been so unsuccessful at night that their stomachs won't give them any peace, and Peter is sure that though they can see very well at night, they can see still better in the light of day. Anyway, that is one of the reasons he gives for his own liking for roaming after jolly, round, red Mr. Sun has gone to bed behind the Purple Hills.

Now it happened one moonlight night that Peter had ventured way over almost to the Big River. He had heard Hooty the Owl's fierce hunting call far off in the Green Forest. He had heard Reddy Fox barking up in the Old Pasture. So Peter felt quite safe. He felt so safe that he had almost forgotten that there could be such a thing as fear. And then, from the direction of the Big River, there came such a sound as Peter never had heard before. It was a sound that made his heart seem to quite stop beating for an instant. It was a sound that sent cold chills racing and chasing all over him. It was a sound that made him wish with all his might that he was that instant right in the heart of the dear Old Briar-patch instead of way over there near the bank of the Big River.

He didn't waste much time getting back to the dear Old Briar-patch, once he was sure his heart hadn't really stopped beating. The way he went across the Green Meadows, lipperty-lipperty-lip, lipperty-lipperty-lip, was positive proof that in spite of his fright his heart was quite all right. He didn't run a little way, stop, run a little farther and stop again, as is his usual way. He kept lipperty-lipperty-lipping without a single stop until he reached the edge of the dear Old Briar-patch and once more felt really safe. Two or three times he had felt that he must stop to get his breath, but each time that sound, that dreadful sound, had seemed to be following right at his heels, and he had suddenly discovered that he didn't need to stop after all.

But having reached the dear Old Briar-patch Peter stopped and panted for breath while he anxiously watched for the appearance of some unknown enemy following him. It was then that he realized that that sound came from the Big River, and that whoever made it had not left the Big River at all. It made Peter feel a wee bit foolish as he thought how he had been sure that there was danger right at his very heels all the way home, when all the time there hadn't been any danger at all.

Peter sat there and listened, and despite the fact that he now felt absolutely safe, the cold chills ran over him every time he heard it. It was a voice; Peter was sure of that. It was a voice, but such a voice as Peter never in his life had heard before. It was quite as bad if not worse than the voice of Old Man Coyote. In a way it reminded him of Old Man Coyote's voice, but while Old Man Coyote's voice sounded like many voices in one, it was not so fearsome as this voice, for this voice sounded like a human voice, yet wasn't. Something inside Peter told him that it wasn't a human voice, in spite of its sounding so.

The next morning Peter ran over to the Smiling Pool to ask Grandfather Frog if he had any idea who could have such a voice as that. When he tried to tell Grandfather Frog what that voice was like, he couldn't. He just couldn't describe it.

"It was the lonesomest and craziest sound I've ever heard," declared Peter, "and that is all I can tell you. It was crazier than the voice of Old Man Coyote."

"That is all you need tell me," chuckled Grandfather Frog. "That was the voice of Dippy the Loon. And let me tell you something, Peter: you are not the first one to think his voice has a crazy sound. Oh, my, no! No, indeed! Why, a lot of people think Dippy is crazy, and when any one does queer things they say of him that he is 'crazy as a Loon.'

"But is he crazy?" asked Peter.

"Chug-a-rum!" exclaimed Grandfather Frog. "Chug-a-rum! Not half so crazy as you are, Peter, coming over here to the Smiling Pool in broad daylight. He likes to be thought crazy, just as his great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather did before him, that's all. Everybody thought his great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather was crazy, and it paid Mr. Loon to have them think so. So he did his best to make them keep thinking so."

"Tell me about it. Do please tell me about it, Grandfather Frog," begged Peter. "Please, please, please."

Now how could Grandfather Frog resist that? He couldn't. He didn't even try to. He just cleared his throat once or twice and began.

"Once on a time, long, long ago, lived the very first of all the Loons, the ever-and-ever-and-ever-so-great-grandfather of Dippy, whose voice frightened you so last night."

"How did you know it frightened me?" exclaimed Peter, for he had taken care not to tell Grandfather Frog anything about that.

Grandfather Frog chuckled and went right on with his story. "Right from the beginning Mr. Loon was a mighty independent fellow. It didn't take him long to find out that Old Mother Nature had too much to do to waste any time on those who didn't try to take care of themselves, and that those would live longest who were smartest and most independent. He had sharp eyes, had old Mr. Loon, just as Dippy has today, and he used them to good account. He saw at once that with so many birds and animals living on the land it was likely to get crowded after a while, and that when such became the case, it was going to be mighty hard work for some to get a living. So Mr. Loon went to Mother Nature and told her that if she had no objections he would like a pair of swimming feet and would live on the water.

"Now Old Mother Nature had just fitted out Mr. Duck with a pair of webbed feet that he might swim, so she was quite prepared to fit Mr. Loon out in like manner.

"'I suppose,' said she, 'that you want a bill like Mr. Duck's.'

"Mr. Loon shook his head. 'Thank you,' said he, 'but I would prefer a sharp bill to a broad one.'

"'How is that?' exclaimed Mother Nature. 'Mr. Duck has been delighted with his bill ever since I gave it to him.'

"'And with good reason,' replied Mr. Loon. 'Did I propose to live as Mr. Duck lives, I should want a bill just like his, but I find that fish are more to my liking. Also I have noticed that there are fewer who eat fish.'

"So Mother Nature gave him the kind of bill he wanted, and Mr. Loon went about his business. He managed to get fish enough to keep from going hungry, but he found that the only way he could do it was to sit perfectly still until a fish swam within reach and then strike swiftly. In fact, his fishing was much like that of Mr. Heron, save that the latter stood instead of sitting. Success was chiefly the result of luck and patience.

"Now this sort of thing was not at all to the liking of Mr. Loon. He gloried in his strength and he wanted to hunt for his fish and catch them in fair chase instead of waiting for them to unsuspectingly swim within reach. He practised and practised swimming and diving, but he soon made up his mind that he never would be able to move through the water fast enough to catch a fish unless there was some change. He watched the fish swim, and he saw that the power which drove them through the water came from their tails. Mr. Loon grew very thoughtful.

"The next time Mother Nature came around to see how everybody was getting on, to hear complaints, and to grant such requests as seemed wise, Mr. Loon was on hand. 'If you please,' said he when his turn came, 'I would like my legs moved back to the lower end of my body.'

"Mother Nature was surprised. She looked it. 'But you'll hardly be able to walk at all with your legs there!' she exclaimed.

"Mr. Loon said that he knew that, and that he didn't want to walk. He would far rather spend all his time on the water. So Mother Nature granted his request. Mr. Loon thanked her and started for the water. He couldn't keep his balance. He simply flopped along, while all his neighbors, who had heard his queer request, jeered at him and called him crazy. He just didn't pay any attention, but flopped along until he reached the water. Then he swam away swiftly. When he was quite by himself with none to see, he dived, and as he had hoped, he found that he could drive himself through the water at great speed. He practised a while and then he went fishing. When he caught his first fish in a fair chase, he was so delighted that he shrieked and shouted and laughed in the wildest fashion far into the night. And those who had heard his strange request and thought him crazy were sure of it, as they listened to his wild laughter.

"So little by little it was spread about among all the other people that Mr. Loon was crazy, and he was left much to himself, which was just what he desired. He was quick to note that the sound of his voice sent shivers over some of his neighbors, and so he would shriek and laugh just to drive them away. It pleased him to have them think him crazy, and he kept it up.

"So it is with Dippy today, and last night you ran from the voice of a crazy Loon who isn't crazy at all, but likes to make people think he is," concluded Grandfather Frog.



XVI

WHERE BIG-HORN GOT HIS CURVED HORNS

It was Digger the Badger who told Peter Rabbit the story of the great Ram who was the first of all the wild Sheep who live on the tops of the mountains bounding the great plains of the Far West on which Digger was born. It happened that Farmer Brown's flock of Sheep were grazing in the Old Pasture in plain sight of Digger as he sat on his doorstep watching his shadow grow longer. At the head of the flock was a Ram whose horns curved around in almost a circle, and whom Peter Rabbit often had admired.

Peter happened along as Digger sat there on his doorstep watching his shadow grow longer, so he sat down at a safe and respectful distance and helped Digger watch his shadow grow longer. Peter delights in doing things like this, because it isn't hard work at all. It is only when there is real work concerned that Peter loses interest. A lot of people are just like Peter in this respect.

Peter gazed over at the Old Pasture and he, too, saw Farmer Brown's Sheep and the big Ram with the curving horns at his head. For a long time Peter had greatly admired those horns, though he never had told any one so. He had admired those horns because they were different from any other horns Peter ever had seen. They looked perfectly useless for fighting because they curved so that the points never could be made to hurt any one, but just the same Peter admired them. Now as he watched he spoke aloud, without thinking what he was doing.

"I wish I had a pair of horns like those," said he wistfully.

Digger the Badger stopped watching his shadow, and turned to stare at Peter. Then he laughed until finally he choked. Peter looked at him in surprise.

"What's the matter with you, Mr. Badger?" asked he. "What is there to laugh at?"

"Only you, Peter. Only you," replied Digger faintly, for he had laughed so hard that he had almost lost his voice. "I am afraid you would find a pair of horns like those rather heavy, Peter, rather heavy."

Peter grinned. "Of course I didn't really mean that," said he. "Of course not. I was just thinking how nice it would be to have such fine horns, if one were big enough to have horns. I don't believe there are any other such horns in all the Great World."

"And that shows how little you know about the Great World, Peter," retorted Digger the Badger.

"Did you ever see such horns before?" demanded Peter.

"No, I never did," confessed Digger, "but I've heard my grandfather tell of Sheep that live on the tops of the great mountains as free as Light-foot the Deer or any other of the Green Forest people, and with horns so large that they, the Sheep, are called Big-Horns. From what I have heard my grandfather say, those horns over there of Mr. Ram's are nothing to brag about. No, Sir, they are nothing to brag about. One of those wild, free cousins of Mr. Ram over there would laugh at those horns. But they are funny horns, and they've been like that always since the days of the first great Ram, the great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather of all the Sheep, so my grandfather told me. It was way back in those long-ago days that they became curved and quite useless for fighting, and all because of old Big-Horn going about with a chip on his shoulder."

Peter pricked up his ears. "That was a funny thing for Big-Horn to be doing," said he. "What under the sun did he have a chip on his shoulder for? And what harm was there in that, even if he did?"

Once more Digger began to laugh. "Peter," said he, "you certainly are the funniest fellow I know. Of course old Big-Horn didn't really have a chip on his shoulder. That is just a saying, Peter, just a saying. When any one goes about looking for trouble and ready to quarrel at the least pretext, he is said to be carrying a chip on his shoulder and daring anybody to knock it off."

"Oh!" said Peter.

"And so," continued Digger, "Big-Horn didn't have anything to do with a really, truly chip, but just went about always trying to get somebody to fight with him. It wasn't that Big-Horn was ugly. He wasn't. You see Old Mother Nature had given him great strength. Yes, Sir, for his size Big-Horn was very strong, and in that strength be took great pride. And Mother Nature had given him a pair of very large and strong horns with which to defend himself if there should be need. Those horns were almost straight, and with Big-Horn's great strength behind them, they were truly dangerous weapons. He didn't think of that. No, Sir, he didn't think of that. He was just brimming full of life, and he dearly loved to try his strength against the strength of others. It got so that the instant he saw anybody, down would go his head and at them he would go full tilt.

"It was great fun—for him. Sometimes he got the worst of it, as when Old King Bear stepped aside at the very last instant and hit him such a clip with his great paw that Big-Horn was sent rolling over and over and lost his breath for a few minutes. But usually it was the other who got the worst of it, for those great, sharp-pointed horns of Big-Horn's tore and hurt. Indeed, even when he tried to be gentle with those smaller than himself he was forever hurting some one.

"Finally some of his neighbors wished to go to Old Mother Nature and complain about Big-Horn, but others were against this plan because they knew that Old Mother Nature was quite loaded down with cares and worries as it was. So instead they called a meeting to which everybody except Big-Horn was invited. If Big-Horn could have heard all that was said about him, his ears surely would have burned. Every one was of the opinion that something must be done, but just what no one could suggest. At last, just when it seemed that the meeting would break up without anything being done, Old Man Coyote stepped forward. Now Old Man Coyote already was known as a very clever fellow, more clever even than Mr. Fox, though it would never have done to say so where it would get back to the ears of Mr. Fox.

"'Friends and neighbors,' said Old Man Coyote, 'it seems to me a very simple matter to teach Neighbor Big-Horn a lesson that he will not soon forget. Being rather bashful, I haven't liked to suggest it before, because I thought surely some one else would do it. I suggest that some one be selected to fight Big-Horn, and when that one can fight no longer, some one else be selected to fight him, and so on until he gets tired, and some one can whip him. Then I think he will have had enough of fighting.'

"Up spoke Mr. Fox and he winked at his neighbor on the right and he winked at his neighbor on the left. 'That is a very good idea of Neighbor Coyote's,' said he, 'a very good idea indeed, and I suggest that Mr. Coyote be selected for the honor of being the first one to fight Big-Horn.' Mr. Fox grinned in a sly way, and everybody else grinned, for everybody knew that Old Man Coyote never was known to fight when there was a chance to run away. So with one accord everybody agreed with Mr. Fox, and Old Man Coyote was selected as the first one to face Big-Horn. To everybody's surprise, Old Man Coyote made no objections. Instead he expressed himself as highly honored, and said that he hoped to do so well that there would be no need for others to fight Big-Horn. So it was arranged that Big-Horn should be invited to fight Old Man Coyote the very next day.

"You may be sure that everybody was on hand the next day to see that fight. No one expected Old Man Coyote to appear. But he did. Yes, Sir, he did. He was right on hand at the appointed time. Big-Horn hadn't been told whom he was to fight, and when he found that it was Old Man Coyote, he was disappointed. You see, there was no anger in Big-Horn's fighting; he fought just for the love of using his great strength and big horns. Fighting was fun to him, and he wanted some one who would stand up to him. As soon as it was explained to him that when he had disposed of Old Man Coyote there would be some one else for him to fight (Mr. Deer had offered to be the next), he felt better. Mr. Deer had horns and was somewhere near his size.

"Old Man Coyote slipped around until he had his back to a great rock. 'I'm ready any time,' said he.

"Big-Horn, who had been stamping with impatience, lowered his head so that his horns pointed straight at Old Man Coyote. He grinned as he did it, for he saw that with that great rock behind him, Old Man Coyote would have no chance to run away as he always had done in the past. Everybody else saw the same thing, and wondered what could have happened to make Old Man Coyote so stupid as to do such a thing as that, he who always had been accounted so clever. But they had hardly time to think of this, for with a snort Big-Horn bounded forward. All the others held their breath as they saw those great horns driving straight at Old Man Coyote, who was crouched with his back to the great rock. Then everybody closed their eyes for a second, for nobody wanted to see Old Man Coyote killed, and everybody knew that that was what was going to happen.

"Then there was a crash, and everybody's eyes flew open. There lay Big-Horn on the ground, looking mighty puzzled, as if he wasn't quite sure what had happened. And there sat Old Man Coyote, grinning at him! They were still staring at Old Man Coyote as if they couldn't believe their own eyes when some one cried, 'Look at the horns of Big-Horn!'

"Instead of being long and straight, those great horns were curved over and round into almost a circle, and there was no longer danger from their sharp points. What had happened? Why, at just the right instant Old Man Coyote had leaped over Big-Horn, and Big-Horn had butted into that great rock with all his might. He had hit so hard, biff! bang! that he had bent his horns, just as crafty, clever Old Man Coyote had hoped he would.

"When Old Mother Nature heard of the affair and saw those bent horns, she chuckled at the cleverness of Old Man Coyote and decided to leave those horns just as they were for the safety of Big-Horn's neighbors. And so they remained as long as Big-Horn lived, and just so have been the horns in his family from that day to this," concluded Digger, and once more began to watch his shadow grow longer.

THE END