"The second day, as we were all hard at work sh.e.l.ling the beechnuts, I heard a noise among the bushes,--a crackling noise that did not sound like any animal I knew. I looked, and saw two eyes peering out from the leaves of a young beech-tree. 'That is a boy,' said I to myself, 'and he means mischief!' So I skipped off without saying anything to the others, and crept softly round behind the bushes, making no more noise than an eel in the mud. There I found, not one boy, but two, crouching among the bushes, and watching the nut-sh.e.l.ling. They were whispering to each other; and I crept nearer and nearer till I could hear all they said.

"'When shall we come?' said one.

"'To-night,' said the other, who had red hair and a freckled face, 'when the moon is up, and the little beggars are all asleep. Then we can easily knock them on the head, and get the nuts without being bitten. They bite like wild-cats when they are roused, these little fellows.'

"'All right!' said the other, whose face I could not see. 'I'll bring a bag and be here at eight o'clock.'

"'_Will_ you?' thought I, and I crept away again, having heard all I wanted to know. I went back to the others, and presently a snapping and crackling told me that the boys were gone. Then I went to Uncle Munkle and told him what I had heard. He was very angry, and whisked his tail about till he nearly whisked it off. 'Call your large friend,' he said, 'and we will hold a council.' So I waked c.o.o.n--"

"Waked c.o.o.n?" exclaimed the woodchuck slyly. "What! do you mean to say he was not working twice as hard as any of the others?"

"I had been, my good fellow!" said the racc.o.o.n loftily. "I had been; and exhausted with my labors. I was s.n.a.t.c.hing a moment's hard-earned repose. Go on, Cracker."

"Well," continued the squirrel, "we held a council, and settled everything beautifully. Uncle Munkle, who has very particularly sharp teeth, was to get into the nut-closet and wait there. The rest of us were to be ready together on the nearest branch, and c.o.o.n was to hide himself somewhere close by. No one was to move until Uncle Munkle gave the signal, and then--well, you shall hear how it happened. We all went on with our work until sunset. Then we had supper, and a game of scamper, and then we began to prepare for business. We sharpened our claws on the bark of the trees till they were as sharp as--as--"

"Razors," suggested Toto.

"Don't know what that means," said the squirrel.

"As sharp as c.o.o.n's nose, then; that will do."

"We filled our cheek-pouches with three-cornered pebbles and nut-sh.e.l.ls. Then, when the moon rose, and all the forest was quiet, we retired to our posts. We had waited some time, and were becoming rather impatient, when suddenly a distant sound was heard; the sound of snapping and cracking twigs. It grew louder and louder, louder and louder; and presently we saw a freckled face looking out from among the leaves.

"Cautiously the boy advanced, and soon another boy appeared, not so ill-looking as the first. He carried a bag in his hand. The two came softly to the foot of our tree, and looked up. The leaves twinkled in the moonlight; but all was still, not a sound to be heard. The two whispered together a moment; then the freckled boy began slowly and carefully to climb the tree. We saw his red head coming nearer and nearer, nearer and nearer. We knew he must be near Uncle Munkle's hole. We all held our breath and listened for the signal.

"Presently the boy stopped climbing, and we saw him stretch out his hand. Then--oh! such a screech! You _never_ heard such a screech, not even from a wild-cat. Another yell, and another. That was the signal.

Now we knew what Uncle Munkle meant by saying, 'I may not give the signal _myself_, but you will hear it all the same.'

"Instantly we sprang at the boy, ten strong, healthy squirrels, teeth and claws and all. I don't think he enjoyed himself very much for the next few minutes. He yelled all the time, and at last he lost his hold on the tree, and fell heavily to the ground. Also, c.o.o.n had been biting his legs a little. But when he fell, c.o.o.n started after the other boy, who was dancing about the foot of the tree in a frenzy of terror and amazement. When he saw c.o.o.n coming, he started on a run; but c.o.o.n jumped on his back and got him by the ear, and then rode him round and round the forest till he howled as loud as the other one had."

"A very pleasant ride I had, too," said the racc.o.o.n placidly. "My young friend was excitable, very excitable, but that only made it the more lively. Yes. I don't know when I have enjoyed anything more."

"But what became of the first boy after he fell?" asked Toto eagerly.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "His father took him away in a wheelbarrow."]

"Well, my dear, he lay still," said the squirrel. "He lay still. He had broken his leg, so it was really the only thing for him to do. And when c.o.o.n came back from riding the other boy he jumped backwards and forwards over him till his father came and took him away in a wheelbarrow. Every time c.o.o.n jumped, he grinned at the boy; and every time he grinned, the boy screamed; so one inferred that he did not like it, you know.

"Altogether," said the little squirrel, in conclusion, "it was a great success; a great success; really, worthy of our end of the wood. And _such_ a feast as Uncle Munkle gave us the day after!"

CHAPTER X.

It was agreed by all hands at the next meeting, that Bruin must tell the story.

"You have not told a story for a long, long time, Bruin," said Toto,--"not since we began to meet here; and Granny wants to hear one of your stories; don't you, Granny?"

"Indeed," said the grandmother, "I should like very much to hear one of Mr. Bruin's stories. I am told they are very delightful."

Mr. Bruin bowed in his peculiar fashion, and murmured something which sounded like "How-wow-mumberygrubble."

The old lady knew, however, that it was meant for "Thank you, ma'am,"

and took the will for the deed.

Bruin sucked his paw thoughtfully for a few minutes; then, raising his head with an air of inspiration,--"Pigeon Pretty," he asked, "what kind of a bear was that in your story?"

"Really, Bruin, I do not know," replied the wood-pigeon. "It said 'a bear,' that was all."

"You see," continued Bruin, "there are so many kinds of bears,--black, brown, cinnamon, grizzly, polar,--really, there is no end to them. I thought, however, that this might possibly have been the Lost Prince of the Poles."

Here Bruin paused a moment and looked about.

"The Lost Prince of the Poles!" exclaimed Toto. "What a fine name for a story! Tell us now, Bruin; tell us all about him."

"Listen, then," said the bear, "and you shall hear about

THE LOST PRINCE OF THE POLES.

The polar bears, as you probably know, are a large and powerful nation. They are governed by a king, who is called the Solar-Polarity of the Hypopeppercorns.

"Oh!" cried Toto. "What _does_ that mean?"

n.o.body knows what it means. That is the great charm of the t.i.tle.

Gives it majesty, you understand. The present Solar-Polarity is, I am told, quite worthy of his t.i.tle, for he is very majestic, and knows absolutely nothing. He sits on the top of the North Pole, and directs the movement of the icebergs.

At the time of which I am going to tell you, which was so long ago as to be no particular time at all, the Solar-Polarity had an only son,--a most promising young bear,--the heir to the kingdom. He was brought up with the greatest care possible, and when he had arrived at a suitable age, his father begged him to choose a mate among the youngest and fairest of the she-bears, or, as they are more elegantly termed, bearesses. To the amazement of the Solar-Polarity, the Prince flatly refused.

"I will not marry one of these cold, white creatures!" he said; "I am tired of white. I want to marry one of those things;" and he pointed to the north, where the Northern Lights were shooting up in long streamers of crimson and green and purple.

"One of those things!" cried his father. "My dear son, are you mad?

Those are Rory-Bories; they are not the sort of thing one can marry.

It's--it's ridiculous to think of such a thing."

"Well," said the Prince, "then I will marry the creature that is most like them. There must be some creature that has those pretty colors. I will go and ask the Princ.i.p.al Whale."

So he went and asked the Princ.i.p.al Whale if he knew any creature that was colored like the Rory-Bories.

"Frankly," said the whale, "I do not. Doubtless there are such, but I have never happened to meet any of them. I will tell you what I will do, however," he said, seeing the Prince's look of disappointment. "I am just starting on a voyage to the Southern seas; and if you like I will take you with me, and you can look about you and decide for yourself."

The young bear was delighted with this proposition, and proceeded at once to a.s.sume the full-dress costume of the polar bears, which consists in tying three knots in the tail.

"A--_ex_cuse me!" interrupted the racc.o.o.n, "I thought no bears had any tails to speak of;" and he glanced complacently at his own magnificent tail, which was curled round his feet.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "He sailed away for the Southern seas."]