"Well, he talked and bragged about it so much that by and by he really believed he could do everything he said, and made up his mind to run away sure enough. He didn't creep out through a hole and slip away, as your little pig did, but took a pretty valise that he had got for Christmas and put all his things in it, and some of his brothers' and sisters' things, too, and then put on his best suit and walked out the front door, as big as you please, with the others all looking at him and wishing they were as big and strong as Curly, so they could go, too, or take their playthings away from him, they didn't care which. Then one of them ran back and said, 'Oh, ma, Curly's running away! Curly's running away, ma, and he's taken our things!'

"But Curly's mother didn't worry much. 'Oh, well, just let him go,' she said. 'He'll be back quick enough.' Then she took her afternoon nap, and Curly walked out across the meadow, sniffing the sunshine and talking to himself about what he was going to do."

[Ill.u.s.tration: HE COULDN'T GET THROUGH.]

"Then he remembered that the little runt pig had run, and Curly thought he ought to run some, too, but he was so fat he couldn't run far, and had to sit down to rest, and then he walked on again and kept walking until he thought he must be almost to the edge of the world, which his mother had told him was just beyond the woods. He was getting very tired, when all at once he came to a gate and looked up, and there was an orchard full of ripe apples and peaches, just as the little runt pig had found. The cracks in the fence were too small for him to try to get through, but he thought he could wiggle under the gate. So he got down in the dust with his new clothes and wiggled and wriggled, but he couldn't get through, and when he tried he couldn't get back, either.

"Then he began to squeal. He could squeal louder than any two other pigs almost, and by and by Mr. Man, who was working in the next field, heard him and came running. When Curly heard Mr. Man coming he thought, 'Now he'll take me home and make me a great pig, just as he did the little runt pig.' But Mr. Man didn't. 'Here, you rascal!' he said, what are you doing under my gate? I'll fix you.' Then he picked up a long, scratchy stick and commenced to beat Mr. Curly, first on one side and then on the other, till he squealed and howled so loud that you could hear him almost a mile. Then Mr. Man caught him by the leg and opened the gate and pulled him out. 'Now, you go home!' he said, and Curly started, but he was so frightened that he didn't know where home or any place else was, and he scampered off without his hat or playthings, and ran and ran and ran till he almost dropped. And just then one of my family, who had been digging out a mole, happened to see the pig running and took after him and caught him and dragged him round and round by the ear till Mr.

Man came running and parted them and held my relative by the collar while he pushed Curly with his foot in the other direction.

"'Now I guess you'll go home!' he said, and Curly thought so, too, and limped off, trying to run. It was such a long way back home that it seemed as if he never would get there. Every minute he thought he heard my cousin coming after him, but he couldn't run any more to save his life, and his ear was bleeding and hurt him, and he cried and squealed, and when at last he did get home he slipped in the back way and tried to wash his face and brush his clothes before they saw him, but they all saw him come in, with his sore ear and his nice, new clothes all torn and dirty. Then they began to laugh and point at him, and said:--"

[Ill.u.s.tration: RAN TO HIS MOTHER.]

"'Oh, here comes Curly, the runaway. He's been to the fair and brought home the red ribbon on his ear!' And that was the very meanest thing they could say, for, of course, they meant the red blood on his ear, and poor Curly ran to his mother and cried and sobbed as if his heart would break and said he would never, never run away again as long as he lived.

"And I've heard," concluded Mr. Dog, "that he never did."

MR. DOG TAKES LESSONS IN DANCING

JACK RABBIT PLAYS ONE MORE JOKE ON MR. DOG

After Mr. Dog had finished his pig story he and Mr. Crow got to talking over old times and telling what happened to them when they were boys and how everything had changed and how young fellows now had things pretty much their own way and no trouble to get an education.

Mr. Crow said that he believed if he'd had half a chance when he was young he'd have made an artist. He said he used to draw off likenesses on his slate so that anybody could almost tell who they were and that the 'c.o.o.n and the 'Possum each had in their rooms in the Big Hollow Tree pictures of themselves that he had drawn which were just as good to-day as the day they were made.

Mr. Dog thought it was mighty fine to be talented like that. He said that his early education had been neglected, too, and that he knew he might have been a poet, for he could make rhymes just as easy as falling off a log, and that he knew three rhymes for every word he could think of except "silver" and "orange." Of course, it was too late now, and he had mostly given up poetry and thought some of going into society.

All he needed was good clothes and a few instructions in manners and some dancing lessons. He said he was just as young and just as good looking as he ever was, and that in a few days he'd have some new clothes. Then he asked Mr. Crow if he knew of anybody that would give him some lessons in politeness and dancing.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MR. RABBIT WAS MAKING SOAP IN THE BACK YARD.]

Mr. Crow thought a while, and then said that he didn't know of a soul in the neighborhood that could be so polite and dance as well as Mr. Jack Rabbit, and that he didn't suppose Mr. Rabbit and Mr. Dog were on good terms. That made Mr. Dog feel pretty bad, 'cause he knew it was just that way, and by and by he got Mr. Crow to promise that he would go and call on Jack Rabbit next morning and see if he couldn't fix it up somehow for him to take a few lessons. So next morning Mr. Crow called over to see Mr. Rabbit, and found him making soap out in the back yard.

He had a good fire built between some stones and a big kettle full of brown stuff, which he was stirring with a long stick. He seemed to be feeling pretty well, for he kept singing,

"Fire and stir, and grease and lye-- Soap to scrub with by and by."

"Ho!" said the Little Lady. "Do they make soap like that?"

They used to in old times. They made what they called a lye by running water through new wood ashes, and then they put grease in it and boiled it in a big kettle. It was very strong soap, and people didn't wash their hands with it, because it got into sore places and burnt and stung like fury. But they used it a good deal to scrub with, and Jack Rabbit made it himself because he was smart and knew how.

Well, the Crow told him all about what Mr. Dog had said, and Mr. Rabbit kept stirring and singing kind of soft like to himself, and smiling a little, and by and by, when the Crow was done, he said that of course Mr. Dog wasn't very polite, and that some lessons would certainly do him good. As for dancing, he said that if Mr. Dog would promise to do just as he told him he would be able to dance as many as three different steps in less than five minutes after he got there.

Mr. Crow said that Mr. Dog had promised anything, and that he would send him over that very afternoon. And, sure enough right after dinner, here comes Mr. Dog, lickety split, to take lessons. Jack Rabbit had his door locked and his window open, and was sitting by it and looking out when Mr. Dog got there. He told Mr. Dog to sit right down and catch his breath a little, and then the lessons would begin. His kettle of soap was all done, and he had taken it off of the fire, but the fire wasn't out yet, though it looked as if it was, because it had burned down to coals and white ashes.

Mr. Rabbit had his new soap in the house, and he spread some of it on a cloth and tossed it down to Mr. Dog.

"That's a dance plaster," he said, "but you don't put it on quite yet.

The first thing will be some lessons in politeness. You must look straight at me and do just as I tell you."

[Ill.u.s.tration: BOWED POLITELY, AS IF HE WERE MEETING LADIES.]

Mr. Dog said that he would do that, and took a seat facing Mr. Rabbit and paid close attention. Then Jack Rabbit got up and bowed politely, as if he were meeting ladies, and, of course, took a step or two backward as he bowed, and then Mr. Dog bowed and took some steps backward, too.

And then he sat down, and Mr. Rabbit told him just where his mistakes were, and made him do it over and over until Mr. Dog had bowed and sc.r.a.ped and backed himself almost into the fire, though he didn't know it.

[Ill.u.s.tration: GAVE A HOWL AND JUMPED STRAIGHT UP INTO THE AIR.]

Next, Jack Rabbit said, they'd have a lesson in paying compliments, and then the dancing. Now, whenever anybody pays a compliment to Mr. Dog he always wags his tail; so the Rabbit thought of the very finest compliment he could think of and paid it to Mr. Dog, and Mr. Dog forgot that it was only a lesson and was so happy to receive such a compliment from Mr. Jack Rabbit that he wagged his tail a great big wag sideways and then up and down, until all at once he gave a howl and jumped straight up in the air, for he had pounded his tail right into the ashes and hot coals of Mr. Rabbit's fire.

"Did it burn him much?" asked the Little Lady.

It did that, and he howled and jumped up and down and whirled first one way and then the other, and Jack Rabbit leaned out of the window and held his sides and said:--

"That's it! That's the step! Dance, Mr. Dog; dance!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: TOOK OVER THE HILL TOWARDS HOME.]

When Mr. Dog heard that, he thought the Rabbit was really in earnest, and didn't know, perhaps, he had wagged his tail into the fire; so he quit howling and really tried to do a few fancy steps, and Jack Rabbit almost died trying to keep from laughing, but he managed to do it, and he called out to Mr. Dog that he was doing fine, and that all he needed now was the dance plaster on his tail. When Mr. Dog heard that, he thought perhaps a dance plaster would take the smart away, too, and he sat right down and tied it on, tight. And then pretty soon that soft soap began to act, and, right then, of all the howling and dancing and performance that you ever heard of, Mr. Dog did it. Mr. Rabbit couldn't hold in any longer, and lay back in his chair, and laughed, and rolled on his bed and shouted, and when Mr. Dog heard him he knew he had been fooled again, and he took off over the hill toward home a good deal faster than he came. Every little ways he'd stop to dance and perform, and try to get that plaster off his tail, and every time he stopped Jack Rabbit would sing out:--

"That's a new step, Mr. Dog! You're doing fine! Dance, Mr. Dog; dance!"

And for a long time after that Mr. Dog didn't like to go out much, because everywhere he went somebody would be sure to say to him:--

"That's a new step, Mr. Dog! Dance, Mr. Dog; dance!"

MR. RABBIT'S UNWELCOME COMPANY

MR. POLECAT MAKES A MORNING CALL AND MR. DOG DROPS IN

"I think I shall have to tell you about Mr. Polecat," said the Story Teller, "and about his visit to Mr. Rabbit."

"Who's Mr. Polecat?" said the Little Lady. "You never told me about him before."

"Well, no, because you see Mr. Polecat is so queer in some of his ways that people even don't talk about him a great deal. He is really quite a nice gentleman, though, when he doesn't get excited. But when he does he loses friends.

"The trouble is with the sort of perfumery he uses when he gets excited, just as some people use a smelling bottle, and n.o.body seems to like the sort Mr. Polecat uses except himself. I suppose he must like it or he wouldn't be so free with it. But other people go away when he uses it--mostly in the direction the wind's blowing from--and in a hurry, as if they were afraid they'd miss a train. Even Mr. Dog doesn't stop to argue with Mr. Polecat. n.o.body does, and all the other deep woods people do their best to make him happy and to keep him in a good humor whenever he comes about, and give him their nicest things to eat and a lot to carry home with him, so he'll start just as soon as possible.

"But more than anything they try to keep him from saying anything about Mr. Dog or hinting or even thinking about Mr. Dog, for when he does any of these things he's apt to get excited, and then sometimes he opens up that perfume of his and his friends fall over each other to get out of reach. They're never very happy to see him coming, and they're always glad to see him go, even when he's had a quiet visit and goes pretty soon, which is just what didn't happen one time when he came to call on Jack Rabbit, and it's that time I'm going to tell about.

"Mr. Rabbit looked out his door one morning and there was Mr. Polecat, all dressed up, coming to see him. He wasn't very far off, either, and Mr. Rabbit hardly had time to jerk down a crayon picture of Mr. Dog that he'd made the day before, just for practice. He pushed it under the bed quick, and when Mr. Polecat came up he bowed and smiled, and said what a nice day it was, and that he'd bring a chair outside if Mr. Polecat would like to sit there instead of coming in where it wasn't so pleasant.