By W. S. Reed

Go to bed early—wake up with joy;
Go to bed late—cross girl or boy.

Go to bed early—ready for play;
Go to bed late—moping all day.

Go to bed early—no pains or ills;
Go to bed late—doctors and pills.

Go to bed early—grow very tall;
Go to bed late—stay very small.

BY JASMINE STONE VAN DRESSER

Once there was a little pink pig with five little spotted brothers and sisters. They had a nice home in the wood lot with their mama, and a nice yard with a little white fence around it. The little pigs were very happy playing in the yard. They made mud pies and baked them in the sun.

One day the little pink pig asked his mama to let him go out of the gate into the big road.

“You are too little and do not know enough yet,” said his mama. “When you grow bigger I shall teach you about the big road, and then you may go. Now, be a good little pig, and run and play with your brothers and sisters.”

But the little pink pig would not play with his brothers and sisters. He ran off in a corner by himself and would not make mud pies.

Pretty soon the milkman came in his wagon to bring the milk for dinner. He carried it in and knocked at the back door, and poured it in a pail for mama. Then he ran out as fast as he could and hopped up in his wagon and drove away.

But he forgot to close the gate.

The little pink pig saw the gate was open, and he ran right out into the big road.

“I will show my mama how much I know,” he said. And he trotted down the big road as fast as his little pink legs would carry him.

He had not gone very far when he saw a big black and white thing. The black and white thing ran after the little pig, and rolled him over in the dust.

The little pig squealed and squealed, and the black and white thing rolled him and rolled him over, and kept saying “Bow wow!” But by and by he turned and went away.

The little pig got up and tried to shake off the dust, but he couldn’t shake it all off. He wanted to go home, but he had rolled over and over so much, that he couldn’t tell where home was. So he ran into a cornfield to hide, till he was sure the black and white thing was gone.

Pretty soon a man came along and found him in the cornfield and said:

“Hello, pink pig, are you eating my corn?”

“Oh, no!” said the little pig. “I would not eat your corn.”

“Then you should keep out of my cornfield,” said the man. “I will take you home and shut you in a pen.”

And he took the little pink pig home and shut him up in a pen.

“I do not want to be shut up. Please let me out,” said the little pink pig.

But the man did not let him out. It was not a nice pen, and the little pig got all muddy and dirty in it. He wished he was at home in his own little house with his mama, and his spotted brothers and sisters.

He ran round and round till he found a little hole in the fence. He was such a tiny pig that he squeezed through the hole and got out, though he had a hard time, for the buttons on his jacket got caught, and he could hardly get loose. He did not know which way to go to find his home, but he ran as fast as he could to get away from the pen.

He ran through a fence into a big place where there was plenty of grass. There were some very big red things in there, and one saw the little pig and ran after him.

“Oh, dear!” said the little pink pig (only he was not pink any more because he was all covered with mud), “are you a big pig?”

The big red thing shook its head and said “Moo!” and tossed the little pig up in the air. The little pig fell on the ground with a hard bump. He lay still till the red thing went away. Then he got up and ran as fast as he could.

He ran out in the road, and right into a black and white speckled thing with two legs. The speckled thing puffed up and said “Squawk!”

The little pig ran as fast as he could because he thought the speckled thing was chasing him. But it wasn’t.

The little pig did not know where he was running, and he did not have time to find out. The first thing he knew he almost ran into a lot of two-legged things. They had big yellow mouths.

One of them said “Hiss-ss!” and ran out and nipped the little pig’s hind leg. The little pig squealed and ran the other way.

“Oh, dear!” he thought, “if I ever get back to my mama, I will never try to go down the big road again, till she teaches me what these queer things are.”

Just then he found himself in front of his own little house with the white fence around it. He ran into the house and told his mama everything that had happened to him. “Oh, mama,” he said, “what was the black and white thing?”

“It was a dog,” she said. “Dogs sometimes chase little pigs.”

“Oh, mama,” he said, “a man found me in his cornfield and put me in a pen.”

“You must keep out of cornfields,” said mama. “People do not like pigs in their cornfields.”

“Oh, mama, what was the big red thing with sharp things on top of its head?”

“It was a cow,” said mama. “You should not go where cows are till you are big enough to keep out of their way.”

“Oh, mama, what was the speckled thing that puffed up and said ‘Squawk?’”

“It was a hen,” said mama. “She was not chasing you, she was only going to the other side of the road.”

“Oh, mama, what was the white thing that nipped me?” “It was a goose. You should always keep away from them.”

“Oh, mama, this is a big world, and there are lots of funny things in it.”

“Yes,” said mama. “That is why it is best for little pigs not to go out on the big road till they know more. You need not be afraid of anything if you know what it is. You have learned a great deal today for such a little pig, but if you are patient and wait till I teach you, you will not have such a hard time. We shall walk out every day, and I will teach you how a little pig can take care of himself all the time.” Then she put the little pig in the wash-tub, for he was all covered with mud, and washed him nicely—and before long he was the little pink pig again.

“Oh, Mama!” cried Fuzzy Wuz, running into the burrow where her mother lay dozing, “may I go walking with Chatter Chuk?”

Mrs. Wuz opened one eye sleepily and looked at Fuzzy.

“If you are careful,” she said; “and don’t go near Juggerjook’s den; and watch the sun so as to get home before the shadows fall.”

“Yes, yes; of course,” returned Fuzzy, eagerly.

“And don’t let Chatter Chuk lead you into mischief,” continued Mrs. Wuz, rubbing one long ear with her paw lazily. “Those red squirrels are reckless things and haven’t much sense.”

“Chatter’s all right,” protested Fuzzy Wuz. “He’s the best friend I have in the forest. Good-by, Mother.”

“Is your face clean, Fuzzy?”

“I’ve just washed it, Mother.”

“With both paws, right and left?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Then run along and be careful.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Fuzzy turned and darted from the burrow, and in the bright sunshine outside sat Chatter Chuk on his hind legs, cracking an acorn.

“What’d she say, Fuz?” asked the red squirrel.

“All right, I can go, Chat. But I’ve got to be careful.”

As the white rabbit hopped away through the bushes and he glided along beside her, Chatter Chuk laughed.

“Your people are always careful, Fuz,” said he. “That’s why you see so little of the world, and lose all the fun in life.”

“I know,” replied Fuzzy, a little ashamed. “Father is always singing this song to me:

“Little Bunny,
Don’t get funny;
Run along and mind your eye;
It’s the habit
Of a rabbit
To be diffident and shy.”

“We squirrels are different,” said Chatter Chuk, proudly. “We are always taught this song:

“Squirrel red,
Go ahead!
See the world, so bright and gay.
For a rover
May discover
All that happens day by day.”

“Oh, if I could run up a tree, I shouldn’t be afraid, either,” remarked Fuzzy Wuz. “Even Juggerjook couldn’t frighten me then.”

“Kernels and shucks! Juggerjook!” cried Chatter Chuk, scornfully. “Who cares for him?”

“Don’t you fear him?” asked Fuzzy Wuz, curiously.

“Of course not,” said the squirrel. “My people often go to his den and leave nuts there.”

“Why, if you make presents to Juggerjook, of course he won’t hurt you,” returned the rabbit. “All the beasts carry presents to his den, so he will protect them from their enemies. The bears kill wolves and carry them to Juggerjook to eat; and the wolves kill foxes and carry them to Juggerjook, and the foxes kill rabbits for him. But we rabbits do not kill animals, so we cannot take Juggerjook anything to eat except roots and clover; and he doesn’t care much for those. So we are careful to keep away from his den.”

“Have you ever seen him or the place where he lives?” asked the squirrel.

“No,” replied Fuzzy Wuz.

“Suppose we go there now?”

“Oh, no! Mother said—”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ve looked at the den often from the trees near by,” said Chatter Chuk. “I can lead you to the edge of the bushes close to his den, and he’ll never know we are near.”

“Mother says Juggerjook knows everything that goes on in the forest,” declared the rabbit, gravely.

“Your mother’s a ’fraid-cat and trembles when a twig cracks,” said Chatter, with a careless laugh. “Why don’t you have a little spirit of your own, Fuzzy, and be independent?”

Fuzzy Wuz was quite young, and ashamed of being thought shy, so she said:

“All right, Chat. Let’s go take a peep at Juggerjook’s den.”

“We’re near it, now,” announced the squirrel. “Come this way; and go softly, Fuzzy Wuz, because Juggerjook has sharp ears.”

They crept along through the bushes some distance after that, but did not speak except in whispers. Fuzzy knew it was a bold thing to do. They had nothing to carry to the terrible Juggerjook, and it was known that he always punished those who came to his den without making him presents. But the rabbit relied upon Chatter Chuk’s promise that the tyrant of the forest would never know they had been near him. Juggerjook was considered a great magician, to be sure, yet Chatter Chuk was not afraid of him. So why should Fuzzy Wuz fear anything?

The red squirrel ran ahead, so cautiously that he made not a sound in the underbrush; and he skilfully picked the way so that the fat white rabbit could follow him. Presently he stopped short and whispered to his companion:

“Put your head through those leaves, and you will see Juggerjook’s den.”

Fuzzy Wuz obeyed. There was a wide clearing beyond the bushes, and at the farther side was a great rock with a deep cave in it. All around the clearing were scattered the bones and skulls of animals, bleached white by the sun. Just in front of the cave was quite a big heap of bones, and the rabbit shuddered as she thought of all the many creatures Juggerjook must have eaten in his time. What a fierce appetite the great magician must have!

The sight made the timid rabbit sick and faint. She drew back and hopped away through the bushes without heeding the crackling twigs or the whispered cautions of Chatter Chuk, who was now badly frightened himself.

When they had withdrawn to a safe distance the squirrel said peevishly:

“Oh, you foolish thing! Why did you make such a noise and racket?”

“Did I?” asked Fuzzy Wuz, simply.

“Indeed you did. And I warned you to be silent.”

“But it’s all right now. We’re safe from Juggerjook here,” she said.

“I’m not sure of that,” remarked the squirrel, uneasily. “One is never safe from punishment if he is discovered breaking the law. I hope the magician was asleep and did not hear us.”

“I hope so, too,” added the rabbit; and then they ran along at more ease, rambling through the forest paths and enjoying the fragrance of the woods and the lights and shadows cast by the sun as it peeped through the trees.

Once in a while they would pause while Fuzzy Wuz nibbled a green leaf or Chatter Chuk cracked a fallen nut in his strong teeth, to see if it was sound and sweet.

“It seems funny for me to be on the ground so long,” he said. “But I invited you to walk with me, and of course a rabbit can’t run up a tree and leap from limb to limb, as my people do.”

“That is true,” admitted Fuzzy; “nor can squirrels burrow in the ground, as rabbits do.”

“They have no need to,” declared the squirrel. “We find a hollow tree, and with our sharp teeth gnaw a hole through the shell and find a warm, dry home inside.”

“I’m glad you do,” remarked Fuzzy. “If all the animals burrowed in the ground there would not be room for us to hide from each other.”

Chatter laughed at this.

“The shadows are getting long,” he said. “If you wish to be home before sunset, we must start back.”

“Wait a minute!” cried the rabbit, sitting up and sniffing the air. “I smell carrots!”

“Never mind,” said the squirrel.

“Never mind carrots? Oh, Chatter Chuk! You don’t know how good they are.”

“Well, we haven’t any time to find them,” he replied. “For my part, I could run home in five minutes, but you are so clumsy it will take you an hour. Where are you going now?”

“Just over here,” said Fuzzy Wuz. “Those carrots can’t be far off.”

The squirrel followed, scolding a little because to him carrots meant nothing especially good to eat. And there, just beside the path, was an old coverless box raised on a peg, and underneath it a bunch of juicy, fat, yellow carrots.

There was room under the box for Fuzzy Wuz to creep in and get the carrots, and this she promptly did, while Chatter Chuk stood on his hind legs a short distance away and impatiently waited. But when the white rabbit nibbled the carrots, the motion pulled a string which jerked out the peg that held up the box, and behold, Fuzzy Wuz was a prisoner!

She squealed with fear and scratched at the sides of the box in a vain endeavor to find a way to escape; but escape was impossible unless some one lifted the box. The red squirrel had seen the whole mishap, and chattered angrily from outside at the plight of his captured friend. The white rabbit thought he must be far away, because the box shut out so much the sound of his voice.

“Juggerjook must have heard us, and this is part of his revenge,” said the squirrel. “Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I wonder what the great magician will do to me.”

He was so terrified by this thought that Chatter Chuk took flight and darted home at his best speed. He lived in a tree very near to the burrow where Mrs. Wuz resided, but the squirrel did not go near the rabbit-burrow. The sun was already sinking in the west, so he ran into his nest and pretended to sleep when his mother asked him where he had been so late.

All night Mrs. Wuz waited for Fuzzy, and it was an anxious and sleepless night for the poor mother, as you may well believe. Fuzzy was her one darling, several other children having been taken from her in various ways soon after their birth. Mr. Wuz had gone to attend a meeting of the Rabbits’ Protective Association and might be absent for several days; so he was not there to help or counsel her.

When daybreak came, the mother rabbit ran to the foot of the squirrels’ tree and called:

“Chatter Chuk! Chatter Chuk! Where is my Fuzzy Wuz? Where is my darling child?”

Chatter Chuk was too frightened to answer until his mother made him. Then he ran down to the lowest limb of the tree and sat there while he talked.

“We went walking,” he said, “and Fuzzy found some carrots under a box that was propped up with a peg. I told her not to eat them; but she did, and the peg fell out and made her a prisoner.”

You see, he did not mention Juggerjook at all, yet he knew the magician was at the bottom of all the trouble.

But Mrs. Wuz knew rabbit-traps quite well, being old and experienced; so she begged the red squirrel to come at once and show her the place where Fuzzy had been caught.

“There isn’t a moment to lose,” she said, “for the trappers will be out early this morning to see what they have captured in their trap.”

Chatter Chuk was afraid to go, having a guilty conscience; but his mother made him. He led the way timidly, but swiftly, and Mrs. Wuz fairly flew over the ground, so anxious was she to rescue her darling.

The box was in the same place yet, and poor Fuzzy Wuz could be heard moaning feebly inside it.

“Courage, my darling!” cried the mother, “I have come to save you.”

First she tried to move the box, but it was too heavy for her to stir. Then she began scratching away the earth at its edge, only to find that it had been placed upon a big, flat stone, to prevent a rabbit from burrowing out.

This discovery almost drove her frantic, until she noticed Chatter Chuk, who stood trembling near by.

“Here!” she called; “it was you who led my child into trouble. Now you must get her out.”

“How?” asked the red squirrel.

“Gnaw a hole in that box—quick! Gnaw faster than you ever did before in your life. See! the box is thinnest at this side. Set to work at once, Chatter Chuk!”

The red squirrel obeyed. The idea of saving his friend was as welcome to him as it was to the distracted mother. He was young, and his teeth were as sharp as needles. So he started at the lower edge and chewed the wood with all his strength and skill, and at every bite the splinters came away.

It was a good idea. Mrs. Wuz watched him anxiously. If only the men would keep away for a time, the squirrel could make a hole big enough for Fuzzy Wuz to escape. She crept around the other side of the box and called to the prisoner: “Courage, dear one! We are trying to save you. But if the men come before Chatter Chuk can make a hole big enough, then, as soon as they raise the box, you must make a dash for the bushes. Run before they can put in their hands to seize you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mother,” replied Fuzzy, but her voice wasn’t heard very plainly, because the squirrel was making so much noise chewing the wood.

Presently Chatter Chuk stopped.

“It makes my teeth ache,” he complained.

“Never mind, let them ache,” replied Mrs. Wuz. “If you stop now, Fuzzy will die; and if she dies, I will go to Juggerjook and tell him how you led my child into trouble.”

The thought of Juggerjook made the frightened squirrel redouble his efforts. He forgot the pain in his teeth and gnawed as no other squirrel had ever gnawed before. The ground was covered with tiny splinters from the box, and now the hole was big enough for the prisoner to put the end of her nose through and beg him to hurry.

Chatter Chuk was intent on his task, and the mother was intent upon watching him, so neither noticed any one approaching, until a net fell over their heads, and a big voice cried, with a boisterous laugh:

“Caught! and neat as a pin, too!”

Chatter Chuk and Mrs. Wuz struggled in the net with all their might, but it was fast around them, and they were helpless to escape. Fuzzy stuck her nose out of the hole in the box to find out what was the matter, and a sweet, childish voice exclaimed: “There’s another in the trap, Daddy!”

Neither the rabbits nor the squirrel understood this strange language; but all realized they were in the power of dreadful Man and gave themselves up for lost.

Fuzzy made a dash the moment the box was raised; but the trapper knew the tricks of rabbits, so the prisoner only dashed into the same net where her mother and Chatter Chuk were confined.

“Three of them! Two rabbits and a squirrel. That’s quite a haul, Charlie,” said the man.

The little boy was examining the box.

“Do rabbits gnaw through wood, Father?” he asked.

“No, my son,” was the reply.

“But there is a hole here. And see! There are the splinters upon the ground.”

The man examined the box in turn, somewhat curiously.

“How strange!” he said. “These are marks of the squirrel’s teeth. Now, I wonder if the squirrel was trying to liberate the rabbit.”

“Looks like it, Daddy; doesn’t it?” replied the boy.

“I never heard of such a thing in my life,” declared the man. “These little creatures often display more wisdom than we give them credit for. But how can we explain this curious freak, Charlie?”

The boy sat down upon the box and looked thoughtfully at the three prisoners in the net. They had ceased to struggle, having given way to despair; but the boy could see their little hearts beating fast through their furry skins.

“This is the way it looks to me, Daddy,” he finally said. “We caught the small rabbit in the box, and the big one must be its mother. When she found her baby was caught, she tried to save it, and she began to burrow under the box, for here is the mark of her paws. But she soon saw the flat stone, and gave up.”

“Yes; that seems reasonable,” said the man.

“But she loved her baby,” continued the boy, gazing at the little creatures pitifully, “and thought of another way. The red squirrel was a friend of hers, so she ran and found him, and asked him to help her. He did, and tried to gnaw through the box; but we came too soon and captured them with the net because they were so busy they didn’t notice us.”

“Exactly!” cried the man, with a laugh. “That tells the story very plainly, my son, and I see you are fast learning the ways of animals. But how intelligent these little things are!”

“That’s what my mother would do,” returned the boy. “She’d try to save me; and that’s just what the mother rabbit did.”

“Well, we must be going,” said the man; and as he started away he picked up the net and swung it over his shoulder. The prisoners struggled madly again, and the boy, who walked along the forest path a few steps behind his father, watched them.

“Daddy,” he said softly, coming to the man’s side, “I don’t want to keep those rabbits.”

“Oh, they’ll make us a good dinner,” was the reply.

“I—I couldn’t eat ’em for dinner, Daddy. Not the mama rabbit and the little one she tried to save. Nor the dear little squirrel that wanted to help them. Let’s—let’s—let ’em go!”

The man stopped short and turned to look with a smile into the boy’s upturned, eager face.

“What will Mama say when we go back without any dinner?” he asked.

“You know, Daddy. She’ll say a good deed is better than a good dinner.”

The man laid a caressing hand on the curly head and handed his son the net. Charlie’s face beamed with joy. He opened wide the net and watched the prisoners gasp with surprise, bound out of the meshes, and scamper away into the bushes.

Then the boy put his small hand in his father’s big one, and together they walked silently along the path.

“All the same,” said Chatter Chuk to himself, as, snug at home, he trembled at the thought of his late peril, “I shall keep away from old Juggerjook after this. I am very sure of that!”

“Mama,” said Fuzzy Wuz, nestling beside her mother in the burrow, “why do you suppose the fierce Men let us go?”

“I cannot tell, my dear,” was the reply. “Men are curious creatures, and often act with more wisdom than we give them credit for.”

“What you burying, a bone?”

“Nop, interning a muzzle.”