The Jumble Book Part 27

By-and-by Little Sir Cat met the Spider who frightened Miss m.u.f.fet. She was busy spinning a big web and said to him,

"_Please go 'way, don't bother me, For I'm as busy as can be._"

So you must wait for the next story to hear what happened to Tommy Green, unless

_That little Black Spider Puts salt in her cider._

THE LOST p.u.s.s.y CAT

[Ill.u.s.tration]

I've been waiting at the door To see if p.u.s.s.y comes no more.

Yesterday he left the house To go a-hunting for a mouse.

ACROSS THE PRAIRIE!

'Way back in the early days of this country, when there weren't any railroad trains crossing the great Western plains, only big herds of wild buffalo by day and fierce wolves by night; when the only way to reach one's destination was in a big, canvas-covered wagon drawn by oxen; when every man rode a horse and carried a gun, and when even the women knew how to handle a rifle--then there were lots of Indians.

Those were dangerous times, and it needed a brave heart and a quick hand and a steady head to overcome the perils of crossing the great plains in search of a new home and a fortune.

This was what d.i.c.k's father was doing, however, and d.i.c.k was the happiest boy on earth, he thought, when they started out on their journey. The big "prairie schooner" was their Pullman car, and the patient team of oxen the motive power. d.i.c.k was old enough to straddle a mustang, and so he rode by father and Uncle Billy. Mother and Aunt Mary, Sister Lou and Cousin Tommy all rode in the wagon, and when night came on they got the supper, all except Billy, of course; he just watched.

Father and Uncle Billy made the fire and unhitched the oxen and tethered the ponies.

d.i.c.k soon learned that the most important thing to do as the day came to a close was to find a good grazing place on which to pitch tent for the night, as the best gra.s.s for the animals must be selected with care, near water if possible. The animals must be looked out for first, otherwise how would they ever get anywhere if these faithful friends should become sick and die?

The next thing d.i.c.k did was to collect for the fire the dry buffalo dung which covered the prairie, and after making a pile in the shape of a huge cone he lighted a few sticks of kindling, a supply of which was always carried in a sack hung from the bottom of the wagon, and soon the heap was a ma.s.s of dull, glowing coals; then the tin coffee pail and the frying pan, and then, thank goodness!--for d.i.c.k was always hungry--supper.

After that they pulled down the big, long canvas back of the wagon cover, which was spread double over the top of the wagon during the day, and fastened it to the ground with pegs, and under this slanting roof, with their blankets between them and the earth, with their toes towards the fire, they slept quite comfortably through the night.

The oxen and the ponies knew enough not to stray any great distance from the campfire, and if frightened at anything would come rus.h.i.+ng back, helter-skelter, for protection. They know that on the prairie man is their best friend and protector.

"What are those figures away over there to the westward?" said d.i.c.k's father. Uncle Billy shaded his eyes with his hand and looked in that direction for a few minutes without answering. "Don't know," he replied, uneasily. "They look like horses, but I don't see any riders." "Nor I,"

replied d.i.c.k's father, "but those wily redskins have a way of hanging over the far-side of the animal so's to deceive any one who happens to catch sight of them. They don't act like wild horses."

It was an anxious moment. Neither man spoke for some time, but rode along quietly, keeping a sharp look-out, however, in order to detect the slightest change in the appearance of the figures to the westward. "They seem to be following our way," suggested Uncle Billy about an hour later. "Supposing we pitch camp to-night a little earlier. That clump of trees yonder will give us some protection in case they turn out to be redskins."

"Good plan," murmured d.i.c.k's father, turning in the direction of the trees. "We needn't let on we're worried to the women folks," he added, "we'll just wait and see how things turn out. Maybe nothing will happen."

But something did happen. About midnight d.i.c.k's father awoke with a start. A shadow fell across the opening in the canvas. In another moment he was grappling with an Indian. Over and over he rolled, but the Indian had found his match. d.i.c.k's father was a powerful man, and, whipping out his revolver, shot him dead. None too soon, for Uncle Billy was being hard pressed by a number of redskins, two of whom he had already laid low with his rifle.

"Get into the wagon, Mother!" yelled d.i.c.k's father, "and pick off a few with your rifle!" Mother and Aunt Mary were soon blazing away from the canvas fort, and after a short time the Indians retired, evidently to consider what was the next best move.

"Where's d.i.c.k?" said his father, looking around anxiously.

"Here I am!" came a voice, and sure enough, under the wagon, crouching down behind the bag of kindling wood, which he had used for a s.h.i.+eld, was d.i.c.k. "I cracked two, dad!" he called out, "one Injun was sneaking up by the pole, when I dropped him; he's out there now, I can just see his outline."

Just then, a number of arrows fell around the wagon, and Uncle Billy caught sight of half a dozen shadowy figures creeping along the gra.s.s in the shadows of the trees to the right. "Look out," he whispered, "let 'em get pretty close and then give 'em hail Columbia."

It was a fierce struggle, for the Indians outnumbered our brave defenders. Twice the redskins rushed up close to the wagon, only to be beaten off in time by courage and good marksmans.h.i.+p. Both d.i.c.k's father and Uncle Billy were "nipped" by arrows, but not seriously hurt, and d.i.c.k himself had a narrow escape from being captured by a daring enemy who sneaked up behind. But d.i.c.k turned and saw him just in time, otherwise our story would have had a sad ending. Mother and Aunt Mary bravely kept up the firing, and the Indians, thinking that there were more defenders than there were, finally withdrew, much to the relief of the besieged.

There was no more sleep in the camp that night, and in the morning, at the first break of day, d.i.c.k's father went out to investigate. Two dead Indians close to the camp testified to the good aim of its defenders.

"They took the other dead and wounded with them," said d.i.c.k's father, turning to his brave boy, "they didn't dare come in so close to get them. Here's the fellow you shot, sonny--I remember he was just about to tomahawk me as you shot him in the nick of time--guess you saved your dad's life," and d.i.c.k felt as proud as Punch when his father slapped him on the back like a man.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

LITTLE SIR CAT

Little Sir Cat and Tommy Green

"_Please, Mister Cat, go ring the bell, I'm sure it won't be wrong.

Perhaps my Mary will come out, I've waited here so long,_"

said Mary's Little Lamb.

"I can't do that," answered Little Sir Cat, "the teacher wouldn't like it." Just then all the children ran out of the little red school-house.

But, oh, dear me! One of the boys pinched Little Sir Cat's tail.

And I don't know what would have happened if the teacher hadn't looked out of the window at that moment. Well, it didn't take him long to run out and give that naughty boy a good shaking.

"I know it was you, Tommy Green. You're the boy who drowned poor p.u.s.s.y cat, who never did you any harm but killed the mice in your father's barn!" And then that angry teacher pulled that naughty boy into the school-house.

[Ill.u.s.tration: LITTLE SIR CAT AND TOMMY GREEN]

"Tommy Green, I'm going to send you home with a letter to your father. I think he had better keep you away from school. We don't want boys who are unkind to animals."

"Oh, please sir," sobbed Tommy Green, "don't do that. I got an awful whipping when I put p.u.s.s.y in the well; I didn't mean to drown her, I only wanted to see her swim. And I didn't pull this cat's tail hard. I just gave it a little pinch to see how thick the fur was."

"Please, professor," said tender-hearted Little Sir Cat, holding up his paw as he had seen the children do in school, "if it's all the same to you, I'd like to give Tommy a chance to be good. I don't want him whipped. My tail doesn't hurt at all now, professor."

Well, goodness me. You should have seen that teacher smile when Little Sir Cat called him "professor."

"This is certainly a lesson to you children," he said; "a great lesson to be kind to all G.o.d's creatures."

And then Tommy began to cry. You see, he wasn't a bad boy at heart, and Little Sir Cat's forgiveness made him feel dreadfully ashamed. I guess it did him more good than any number of whippings.

_Dear children, never be unkind To small four-footed things.