“ ‘OUCH!’ he yelped. ‘I skinned my nose!’
“In the farmhouse, Jimmy Tractorwheel rolled over in his bed, but he did not quite wake up.
“Waldo brought his firefly flashlight over to see what he had bumped into. ‘Aha,’ he snarled. ‘They put a rock in the hole. Thought they’d fool old Waldo that way. Heh, heh. I’ll show ’em. I’ll dig around the rock!’ He didn’t realize that he was up against a concrete wall.
“He put down his light and began a new hole right next to the old one. Faster and faster he dug. The earth shot out and rattled against his empty belly. Ratta-tat-tat-tat, ratta-tat-tat-tat, like a drum. And then, again—
“ ‘OUCH!’ he yelped. ‘I skinned my nose!’ This time his yelp was a little louder, or maybe Jimmy was not quite so deep in sleep, but anyway Jimmy woke up. He sat up in bed.
“ ‘Did I hear something?’ Jimmy said to himself. He listened for a minute. ‘Guess not,’ he said, and lay down again.
“Meanwhile Waldo was angrily snarling to himself, ‘Another rock! I’ll show ’em. I’ll go clear around to the other side of the chicken yard and dig there. I guess they wouldn’t think of putting a rock over there.’
“He picked up his fireflies and his topcoat and slunk around to the opposite side of the chicken yard. And again he began to dig. Faster and faster flew the soft black earth. ‘Won’t be long now,’ panted Waldo, And then—
“ ‘OUCH! I skinned my nose!’
“This time Jimmy Tractorwheel was not asleep. He distinctly heard a sound. It was so far away he could not tell what it was, but he went to his window and looked out. He could see nothing but an occasional glow of light as if from an unusually large firefly. It came from the direction of the chicken yard.
“ ‘That’s funny,’ said Jimmy to himself. ‘Must be an unusually large firefly!’ He decided to put on his bathrobe and slippers and stay at the window for a little while just to watch and listen.”
“And now, boys,” said Michael’s father, “I hate to interrupt the story but here we are at the Triborough Bridge and I have to get a quarter out of my pocket to pay the toll with.”
“Let me hand it to the policeman,” said Michael.
“You did it last time,” said Stefan. “Let me.”
“O.K., Steffy, you do it.”
So when the car stopped at the toll gate it was Stefan who handed the quarter to the policeman.
“Thanks, sonny,” said the policeman, and off went the car across the big bridge.
Chapter 10
e’re almost at the end of the story and I’ll try to finish it before we get home,” said Michael’s father as they drove down the Franklin D. Roosevelt Drive.
“Make it that Waldo skins his nose again,” said Michael.
“Oh, no,” said his father. “Waldo has skinned his nose three times already.”
“But it’s so funny,” said Stefan. The very thought of Waldo skinning his nose made the boys laugh so hard they almost fell out of the car.
“But this time,” said Michael’s father, “the wolf decided to try to dig sideways. So he found a fresh spot in the earth beside the chicken yard and began digging with his left front paw and his left rear paw, so in case he ran into another rock he would not skin his nose. The earth was soft and Waldo was digging fast when all of a sudden,
“ ‘OUCH!” he yelped. ‘I skinned my side!’”
Michael’s father had to stop the story for a few moments because the boys were laughing so hard. Then he continued:
“This time Jimmy Tractorwheel heard the wolf quite clearly. He left the window and ran into his father’s room.
“ ‘Papa, Papa,’ cried Jimmy.
“Farmer Tractorwheel woke up with a snort. ‘Jimmy!’ he said. ‘What’s the matter? Have a nightmare?’ Children of Jimmy’s age often do have nightmares.
“ ‘No, no. The wolf is trying to get in the chicken yard again!’ cried Jimmy.
“ ‘Now you go back to bed,’ said his father. ‘You’ll be all right.’
“ ‘I heard him!’ said Jimmy.
“ ‘And don’t run around the house in your bare feet,’ said his father.
“ ‘I’ve got my slippers on,’ said Jimmy.
“Down in the yard, Waldo the wolf had given up digging sideways and was trying to dig backwards, with his hind feet. He was digging along all right when suddenly he let out the biggest yelp of all.
“ ‘OUCH! I skinned my behind!’
“The yelp could be heard clearly in Jimmy’s father’s bedroom.
“ ‘There!’ said Jimmy.
“ ‘YIPE!’ cried his father, jumping out of bed. ‘You’re right, Jimmy. It is the wolf. We’ll catch him.’ They raced through the house waking up Jimmy’s brothers. Jimmy’s father took a shotgun, Jimmy took his Louisville Slugger and the other boys took ropes and old tennis rackets. Quietly they crept down the stairs and out of the house.
“ ‘We’ll surround him,’ whispered Jimmy’s father. ‘O.K., Jimmy?’
“ ‘O.K., Papa,’ whispered Jimmy. ‘We can tell where he is by the flashing of that light.’
“Half of them crept to one side of the chicken house and the others to the other side. Waldo did not hear them he was so furious. He kept digging, digging, digging. First frontwards, and he would yelp, ‘Ouch, I skinned my nose!’ Then sideways: ‘Ouch, I skinned my side.’ Then backwards, ‘Ouch, I skinned my behind!’
“Suddenly Farmer Tractorwheel switched on a big flashlight. It lighted up the whole chicken yard. Waldo the wolf turned toward the light, snarling viciously.
“ ‘Stay where you are or I’ll shoot,’ said Farmer Tractorwheel.
“ ‘I am trapped!’ cried the wolf.
“ ‘You are!’ cried all the Tractorwheels.
“Then the ferocious wolf began to whine and cry. ‘Oh, please do not hurt me,’ he whined. ‘I meant no harm. I only wanted to play with the pretty hen. She is my friend.’
“Farmer Tractorwheel said, ‘Jimmy, it was your good work that caused the wolf to be caught. You can decide what to do with him. Shall I shoot him?’
“ ‘Just a minute, Papa,’ said Jimmy. ‘May I ask the wolf a few questions?’
“ ‘Your witness,’ said the farmer.
“ ‘Wolf,’ said Jimmy. ‘What makes you so mean?’
“ ‘Me?’ said the wolf. ‘I ain’t mean.’
“ ‘You would eat my chicken,’ said Jimmy.
“ ‘Didn’t you ever eat no chicken?’ said the wolf.
“ ‘Well, yes,’ said Jimmy. ‘But we raise chickens and take care of them. You only steal and eat them. If you had your way you would kill off all the chickens and there wouldn’t be any more. But we keep having more all the time. You’re destructive.’
“ ‘I see what you mean,’ said the wolf. ‘But I ain’t never had a chance to be a farmer boy. I never been nothing but a wolf all my life. I never had no opportunities. I ain’t even been to school.’
“ ‘Don’t say ain’t,’ said Jimmy. ‘There’s no such word.’
“ ‘There ain’t?’ said the wolf.
“ ‘Oh, shoot him,’ said Tom Tractorwheel. ‘I want to get back to bed.’
“Papa Tractorwheel raised the shotgun to his shoulder.
“ ‘Wait,’ said Jimmy. ‘There is something in what the wolf says.’
“ ‘Don’t be a softie,’ said Tom. ‘Kill that wolf or he will keep coming back and stealing chickens.’
“ ‘Tom’s right,’ said Papa Tractorwheel.
“ ‘No, no,’ cried the wolf. ‘Never again.’
“ ‘But if we kill this wolf there will still be plenty of other wolves to come and steal our chickens,’ said Jimmy.
“ ‘That’s true,’ said Papa Tractorwheel. ‘What’s one wolf less?’
“ ‘One wolf less is one wolf less,’ said Tom, ‘and I’m colder than a well-digger’s toe.’
“It was really chilly there in the farmyard in the middle of the night with nothing on
but pajamas and bathrobes and slippers.
“ ‘What do you say, Jimmy?’ said Papa Tractorwheel. ‘We can’t stand here all night arguing.’
“ ‘I think we ought to lock the wolf up in a cage,’ said Jimmy. ‘Tomorrow I will come and talk to him. I will try to learn about wolves so I can work out a plan for solving the wolf problem.’
“So Waldo was locked up and every day Jimmy would come and ask him questions about how a wolf is treated by his parents and what makes him so fierce. The more Waldo talked about his fierceness the gentler he grew, until finally he was allowed out of the cage on a leash. Jimmy and Waldo wrote a book about wolves which was read by the farmers and the wolves in that part of the country and helped them to understand each other. They all became quite friendly and some wolves even worked on the farms, as sheepdogs. And all because Jimmy Tractorwheel was brave and kind and very curious.
“And that,” said Michael’s father, “is the end of the story.”
“No!” cried Michael. “Waldo gets away one dark night and creeps to the hen house ...”
“I said that was the end of the story.”
“But we aren’t quite home yet!”
“Michael!” said his father.
The two boys were silent for a while and then Michael said, “Could Waldo be a sheepdog?”
“Sure,” said Stefan.
“With such big teeth?” said Michael.
“Probably wore a muzzle,” said Stefan.
“Start it all over again,” said Michael.
“Yes!” said Stefan.
“You boys have been so very good today,” said Michael’s father, “I will take you on another excursion next Sunday.”
“And tell it again,” said Stefan.
“Yea!” cried Mike.
And so it was that when Michael and Stefan got on the elevated train the following Sunday with Michael’s father, the people directly behind them heard these words:
“Once upon a time there was a hen named Rainbow.”
WILLIAM McCLEERY (1911–2000) was born in Nebraska and spent his early career as a newspaper reporter and magazine editor. In the 1940s two of his plays were produced on Broadway, and he later wrote some dozen one-hour dramas for television. From the 1960s until his death he was affiliated with Princeton University, where he taught playwriting, founded the magazine University: A Princeton Quarterly, and edited several volumes of university history. McCleery was a trustee of the MacDowell Colony in New Hampshire from 1948 to 1970, and it was there that he wrote Wolf Story for his son Michael.
WARREN CHAPPELL (1904–1991) was a graphic artist, book illustrator, and typographer. He illustrated many books for children and adults, including three in collaboration with John Updike; created two highly regarded typefaces, Lydian and Trajanus; and wrote several books on typography, among them A Short History of the Printed Word.
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