“No,” she said.
“Or how to dig a hole in the ground to live in, with different rooms and passages, so that it slants up hill and the rain won’t come in and drown you?”
“No,” said Twinkle.
“And could you tell, on the second day of February (which is woodchuck day, you know), whether it’s going to be warm weather, or cold, during the next six weeks?”
“I don’t believe I could,” replied the girl.
“Then,” said Mister Woodchuck, “there are some things that we know that you don’t; and although a woodchuck might not be of much account in one of your schoolrooms, you must forgive me for saying that I think you ‘d make a mighty poor woodchuck.”
“I think so, too!” said Twinkle, laughing.
“And now, little human,” he resumed, after looking at his watch, “it’s nearly time for you to wake up; so if we intend to punish you for all the misery your people has inflicted on the woodchucks, we won’t have a minute to spare.”
“Don’t be in a hurry,” said Twinkle. “I can wait.”
“She’s trying to get out of it,” exclaimed Mrs. Woodchuck, scornfully. “Don’t you let her, Leander.”
“Certainly not, my dear,” he replied; “but I haven’t decided how to punish her.”
“Take her to Judge Stoneyheart,” said Mrs. Woodchuck. “He will know what to do with her.”
Chapter VI. Twinkle is Taken to the Judge
AT this the woodchuck children all hooted with joy, crying: “Take her, Daddy! Take her to old Stoneyheart! Oh, my! won’t he give it to her, though!”
“Who is Judge Stoneyheart?” asked Twinkle, a little uneasily.
“A highly respected and aged woodchuck who is cousin to my wife’s grandfather,” was the reply. “We consider him the wisest and most intelligent of our race; but, while he is very just in all things, the judge never shows any mercy to evil-doers.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong,” said the girl.
“But your father has, and much wrong is done us by the other farmers around here. They fight my people without mercy, and kill every woodchuck they can possibly catch.”
Twinkle was silent, for she knew this to be true.
“For my part,” continued Mister Woodchuck, “I’m very soft-hearted, and wouldn’t even step on an ant if I could help it. Also I am sure you have a kind disposition. But you are a human, and I am a woodchuck; so I think I will take you to old Stoneyheart and let him decide your fate.”
“Hooray!” yelled the young woodchucks, and away they ran through the paths of the garden, followed slowly by their fat mother, who held the lace parasol over her head as if she feared she would be sunstruck.
Twinkle was glad to see them go. She didn’t care much for the woodchuck children, they were so wild and ill-mannered, and their mother was even more disagreeable than they were. As for Mister Woodchuck, she did not object to him so much; in fact, she rather liked to talk to him, for his words were polite and his eyes pleasant and kindly.
“Now, my dear,” he said, “as we are about to leave this garden, where you have been quite secure, I must try to prevent your running away when we are outside the wall. I hope it won’t hurt your feelings to become a real prisoner for a few minutes.”
Then Mister Woodchuck drew from his pocket a leather collar, very much like a dog-collar, Twinkle thought, and proceeded to buckle it around the girl’s neck. To the collar was attached a fine chain about six feet long, and the other end of the chain Mister Woodchuck held in his hand.
“Now, then,” said he, “please come along quietly, and don’t make a fuss.”
He led her to the end of the garden and opened a wooden gate in the wall, through which they passed. Outside the garden the ground was nothing but hard, baked earth, without any grass or other green thing growing upon it, or any tree or shrub to shade it from the hot sun. And not far away stood a round mound, also of baked earth, which Twinkle at once decided to be a house, because it had a door and some windows in it.
There was no living thing in sight — not even a woodchuck — and Twinkle didn’t care much for the baked-clay scenery.
Mister Woodchuck, holding fast to the chain, led his prisoner across the barren space to the round mound, where he paused to rap softly upon the door.
Chapter VII. Twinkle is Condemned
“COME in!” called a voice.
Mister Woodchuck pushed open the door and entered, drawing Tinkle after him by the chain.
In the middle of the room sat a woodchuck whose hair was grizzled with old age. He wore big spectacles upon his nose, and a round knitted cap, with a tassel dangling from the top, upon his head. His only garment was an old and faded dressing-gown.
When they entered, the old woodchuck was busy playing a game with a number of baked-clay dominoes, which he shuffled and arranged upon a baked-mud table; nor did he look up for a long time, but continued to match the dominoes and to study their arrangement with intense interest.
Finally, however, he finished the game, and then he raised his head and looked sharply at his visitors.
“Good afternoon, Judge,” said Mister Woodchuck, taking off his silk hat and bowing respectfully.
The judge did not answer him, but continued to stare at Twinkle.
“I have called to ask your advice,” continued Mister Woodchuck. “By good chance I have been able to capture one of those fierce humans that are the greatest enemies of peaceful woodchucks.”
The judge nodded his gray head wisely, but still answered nothing.
“But now that I’ve captured the creature, I don’t know what to do with her,” went on Mister Woodchuck; “although I believe, of course, she should be punished in some way, and made to feel as unhappy as her people have made us feel. Yet I realize that it’s a dreadful thing to hurt any living creature, and as far as I’m concerned I’m quite willing to forgive her.” With these words he wiped his face with a red silk handkerchief, as if really distressed.
“She’s dreaming,” said the judge, in a sharp, quick voice.
“Am I?” asked Twinkle.
“Of course. You were probably lying on the wrong side when you went to sleep.”
“Oh!” she said. “I wondered what made it.”
“Very disagreeable dream, isn’t it?” continued the judge.
“Not so very,” she answered. “It’s interesting to see and hear woodchucks in their own homes, and Mister Woodchuck has shown me how cruel it is for us to set traps for you.”
“Good!” said the judge. “But some dreams are easily forgotten, so I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll be likely to remember. You shall be caught in a trap yourself.”
“Me!” cried Twinkle, in dismay.
“Yes, you. When you find how dreadfully it hurts you’ll bear the traps in mind forever afterward. People don’t remember dreams unless the dreams are unusually horrible. But I guess you’ll remember this one.”
He got up and opened a mud cupboard, from which he took a big steel trap. Twinkle could see that it was just like the trap papa had set to catch the woodchucks, only it seemed much bigger and stronger.
The judge got a mallet and with it pounded a stake into the mud floor. Then he fastened the chain of the trap to the stake, and afterward opened the iron jaws of the cruel-looking thing and set them with a lever, so that the slightest touch would spring the trap and make the strong jaws snap together.
“Now, little girl,” said he, “you must step in the trap and get caught.”
“Why, it would break my leg!” cried Twinkle.
“Did your father care whether a woodchuck got its leg broken or not?” asked the judge.
“No,” she answered, beginning to be greatly frightened.
“Step!” cried the judge, sternly.
“It will hurt awfully,” said Mister Woodchuck; “but that can’t be helped. Traps are cruel things, at the best.”
Twinkle was now trembling with nervousness and fear.
; “Step!” called the judge, again.
“Dear me!” said Mister Woodchuck, just then, as he looked earnestly into Twinkle’s face, “I believe she’s going to wake up!”
“That’s too bad,” said the judge.
“No, I’m glad of it,” replied Mister Woodchuck.
And just then the girl gave a start and opened her eyes.
She was lying in the clover, and before her was the opening of the woodchuck’s hole, with the trap still set before it.
Chapter VIII. Twinkle Remembers
“PAPA,” said Twinkle, when supper was over and she was nestled snugly in his lap, “I wish you wouldn’t set any more traps for the woodchucks.”
“Why not, my darling?” he asked in surprise.
“They’re cruel,” she answered. “It must hurt the poor animals dreadfully to be caught in them.”
“I suppose it does,” said her father, thoughtfully. “But if I don’t trap the woodchucks they eat our clover and vegetables.”
“Never mind that,” said Twinkle, earnestly. “Let’s divide with them. God made the woodchucks, you know, just as He made us, and they can’t plant and grow things as we do; so they have to take what they can get, or starve to death. And surely, papa, there’s enough to eat in this big and beautiful world, for all of God’s creatures.”
Papa whistled softly, although his face was grave; and then he bent down and kissed his little girl’s forehead.
“I won’t set any more traps, dear,” he said.
And that evening, after Twinkle had been tucked snugly away in bed, her father walked slowly through the sweet-smelling fields to the woodchuck’s hole; there lay the trap, showing plainly in the bright moonlight. He picked it up and carried it back to the barn. It was never used again.
THE END
BANDIT JIM CROW
Chapter I. Jim Crow Becomes a Pet
ONE day, when Twinkle’s father was in the corn-field, he shot his gun at a flock of crows that were busy digging up, with their long bills, the kernels of corn he had planted. But Twinkle’s father didn’t aim very straight, for the birds screamed at the bang of the gun and quickly flew away — all except one young crow that fluttered its wings, but couldn’t rise into the air, and so began to run along the ground in an effort to escape.
The man chased the young crow, and caught it; and then he found that one of the little lead bullets had broken the right wing, although the bird seemed not to be hurt in any other way.
It struggled hard, and tried to peck the hands that held it; but it was too young to hurt any one, so Twinkle’s father decided he would carry it home to his little girl.
“Here’s a pet for you, Twinkle,” he said, as he came into the house. “It can’t fly, because its wing is broken; but don’t let it get too near your eyes, or it may peck at them. It’s very wild and fierce, you know.”
Twinkle was delighted with her pet, and at once got her mother to bandage the broken wing, so that it would heal quickly.
The crow had jet black feathers, but there was a pretty purplish and violet gloss, or sheen, on its back and wings, and its eyes were bright and had a knowing look in them. They were hazel-brown in color, and the bird had a queer way of turning his head on one side to look at Twinkle with his right eye, and then twisting it the other side that he might see her with his left eye. She often wondered if she looked the same to both eyes, or if each one made her seem different.
She named her pet “Jim Crow” because papa said that all crows were called Jim, although he never could find out the reason. But the name seemed to fit her pet as well as any, so Twinkle never bothered about the reason.
Having no cage to keep him in, and fearing he would run away, the girl tied a strong cord around one of Jim Crow’s legs, and the other end of the cord she fastened to the round of a chair — or to the table-leg — when they were in the house. The crow would run all around, as far as the string would let him go; but he couldn’t get away. And when they went out of doors Twinkle held the end of the cord in her hand, as one leads a dog, and Jim Crow would run along in front of her, and then stop and wait. And when she came near he’d run on again, screaming “Caw! Caw!” at the top of his shrill little voice.
He soon came to know he belonged to Twinkle, and would often lie in her lap or perch upon her shoulder. And whenever she entered the room where he was he would say, “Caw — caw!” to her, in pleading tones, until she picked him up or took some notice of him.
It was wonderful how quickly a bird that had always lived wild and free seemed to become tame and gentle. Twinkle’s father said that was because he was so young, and because his broken wing kept him from flying in the air and rejoining his fellows. But Jim Crow wasn’t as tame as he seemed, and he had a very wicked and ungrateful disposition, as you will presently learn.
For a few weeks, however, he was as nice a pet as any little girl could wish for. He got into mischief occasionally, and caused mamma some annoyance when he waded into a pan of milk or jumped upon the dinner table and ate up papa’s pumpkin pie before Twinkle could stop him. But all pets are more or less trouble, at times, so Jim Crow escaped with a few severe scoldings from mamma, which never seemed to worry him in the least or make him a bit unhappy.
Chapter II. Jim Crow Runs Away
AT last Jim got so tame that Twinkle took the cord off his leg and let him go free, wherever he pleased. So he wandered all over the house and out into the yard, where he chased the ducks and bothered the pigs and made himself generally disliked. He had a way of perching upon the back of old Tom, papa’s favorite horse, and chattering away in Tom’s ear until the horse plunged and pranced in his stall to get rid of his unwelcome visitor.
Twinkle always kept the bandage on the wounded wing, for she didn’t know whether it was well yet, or not, and she thought it was better to be on the safe side. But the truth was, that Jim Crow’s wing had healed long ago, and was now as strong as ever; and, as the weeks passed by, and he grew big and fat, a great longing came into his wild heart to fly again — far, far up into the air and away to the lands where there were forests of trees and brooks of running water.
He didn’t ever expect to rejoin his family again. They were far enough away by this time. And he didn’t care much to associate with other crows. All he wanted was to be free, and do exactly as he pleased, and not have some one cuffing him a dozen times a day because he was doing wrong.
So one morning, before Twinkle was up, or even awake, Jim Crow pecked at the bandage on his wing until he got the end unfastened, and then it wasn’t long before the entire strip of cloth was loosened and fell to the ground.
Now Jim fluttered his feathers, and pruned them with his long bill where they had been pressed together, and presently he knew that the wing which had been injured was exactly as strong and well as the other one. He could fly away whenever he pleased.
The crow had been well fed by Twinkle and her mamma, and was in splendid health. But he was not at all grateful. With the knowledge of his freedom a fierce, cruel joy crept into his heart, and he resumed the wild nature that crows are born with and never lay aside as long as they live.
Having forgotten in an instant that he had ever been tame, and the pet of a gentle little girl, Jim Crow had no thought of saying good-bye to Twinkle. Instead, he decided he would do something that would make these foolish humans remember him for a long time. So he dashed into a group of young chickens that had only been hatched a day or two before, and killed seven of them with his strong, curved claws and his wicked black beak. When the mother hen flew at him he pecked at her eyes; and then, screaming a defiance to all the world, Jim Crow flew into the air and sailed away to a new life in another part of the world.
Chapter III. Jim Crow Finds a New Home
I’LL not try to tell you of all the awful things this bad crow did during the next few days, on his long journey toward the South.
Twinkle almost cried when she found her pet gone; and she really did cry when she saw the
poor murdered chickens. But mamma said she was very glad to have Jim Crow run away, and papa scowled angrily and declared he was sorry he had not killed the cruel bird when he shot at it in the corn-field.
In the mean time the runaway crow flew through the country, and when he was hungry he would stop at a farm-house and rob a hen’s nest and eat the eggs. It was his knowledge of farm- houses that made him so bold; but the farmers shot at the thieving bird once or twice, and this frightened Jim Crow so badly that he decided to keep away from the farms and find a living in some less dangerous way.
And one day he came to a fine forest, where there were big and little trees of all kinds, with several streams of water running through the woods.
“Here,” said Jim Crow, “I will make my home; for surely this is the finest place I am ever likely to find.”
There were plenty of birds in this forest, for Jim could hear them singing and twittering everywhere among the trees; and their nests hung suspended from branches, or nestled in a fork made by two limbs, in almost every direction he might look. And the birds were of many kinds, too: robins, thrushes, bullfinches, mocking-birds, wrens, yellowtails and skylarks. Even tiny humming-birds fluttered around the wild flowers that grew in the glades; and in the waters of the brooks waded long-legged herons, while kingfishers sat upon overhanging branches and waited patiently to seize any careless fish that might swim too near them. Jim Crow decided this must be a real paradise for birds, because it was far away from the houses of men. So he made up his mind to get acquainted with the inhabitants of the forest as soon as possible, and let them know who he was, and that he must be treated with proper respect.
In a big fir-tree, whose branches reached nearly to the ground, he saw a large gathering of the birds, who sat chattering and gossiping pleasantly together. So he flew down and joined them.
“Good morning, folks,” he said; and his voice sounded to them like a harsh croak, because it had become much deeper in tone since he had grown to his full size.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 366