Part 17

"Oh," said Peter, "you mean that when he stands still that way he is fishing."

Grandfather Frog nodded.

"Well," said Peter, "all I can say is that he is the most patient fellow I ever saw. I didn't suppose there was such patience."

"He comes rightly by it," returned Grandfather Frog. "He gets it from his great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather, who lived when the world was young. He learned it then."

"How?" demanded Peter, eager for a story.

Grandfather Frog's eyes took on a far-away look, as if he were seeing into that long-ago past. "Chug-a-rum!" he began. "It always seemed to old Mr. Heron as if Old Mother Nature must have made him last of all the birds and was in such a hurry that she didn't care how he looked. His legs were so long and his neck was so long that all his neighbors laughed at him and made fun of him. He was just as awkward as he looked. His long legs were in his way. He didn't know what to do with his long neck. When he tried to run, everybody shouted with laughter. When he tried to fly, he stretched his long neck out, and then he couldn't keep his balance and just flopped about, while all his neighbors laughed harder than ever. Poor Mr. Heron was ashamed of himself, actually ashamed of himself. He quite overlooked the fact that Old Mother Nature had given him a really beautiful coat of feathers. Some of those who laughed at him would have given anything to have possessed such a beautiful coat. But Mr. Heron didn't know this. He couldn't bear to be laughed at, wherein he was very like most people.

"So he tried his best to keep out of sight as much as possible. Now in those days, as at present, the rushes grew tall beside the Smiling Pool, and among them Mr. Heron found a hiding-place. Because his legs were long, he could wade out in the water and keep quite out of sight of those who lived on the land. So he found a use for his long legs and was glad that they were long. At first he used to go ashore to hunt for food. One day as he was wading ashore, he surprised a school of little fish and managed to catch one. It tasted so good that he wanted more, and every day he went fishing. Whenever he saw little fish swimming where the water was shallow, he would rush in among them and do his best to catch one. Sometimes he did, but more often he didn't. You see, he was so clumsy and awkward that he made a great splashing, and the fish would hear him coming and get away.

"One day after he had tried and tried without catching even one, he stopped just at the edge of the rushes to rest. His long neck ached, and to rest it he laid it back on his shoulders. For a long time he stood there, resting. The water around his feet was cool and comforting. He was very comfortable but for one thing,--he was hungry. He was just making up his mind to go on and hunt for something to eat when he saw a school of little fish swimming straight towards him. 'Perhaps,' thought he, 'if I keep perfectly still, they will come near enough for me to catch one.' So he kept perfectly still. He didn't dare even stretch his long neck up. Sure enough, the little fish swam almost to his very feet. They didn't see him at all. When they were near enough, he darted his long neck forward and caught one without any trouble at all. Mr. Heron was almost as surprised as the fish he had caught. You see, he discovered that with his neck laid back on his shoulders that way, he could dart his head forward ever so much quicker than when he was holding it up straight. It really was a great discovery for Mr. Heron.

"Of course all the other fish darted away in great fright, but Mr. Heron didn't mind. He settled himself in great contentment, for now he was less hungry. By and by some foolish tadpoles came wriggling along. 'I'll just try catching one of them for practice. Maybe they are good to eat,' thought Mr. Heron, and just as before darted his head and great bill downward and caught a tadpole.

"'Um-m, they are good!' exclaimed Mr. Heron, and once more settled himself to watch and wait.

"That was a sad day for the Frog family, but a great day for Mr. Heron when he discovered that tadpoles were good to eat." Grandfather Frog sighed mournfully. "Yes," he continued, "that was a great day for Mr. Heron. He had discovered that he could gain more by patient waiting than by frantic hunting, and he had found that his long neck really was a blessing. After that, whenever he was hungry, he would stand perfectly still beside some little pool where foolish young fish or careless tadpoles were at play and wait patiently until they came within reach.

"One day he was startled into an attempt to fly by hearing the stealthy footsteps of Mr. Fox behind him. His head was drawn back on his shoulders at the time, and he was so excited that he forgot to straighten it out. Just imagine how surprised he was, and how surprised Mr. Fox was, when he sailed away in beautiful flight, his long legs trailing behind him. With his neck carried that way, he could fly as well as any one. From that day on, no one laughed at Mr. Heron because of his long legs and long neck. Mr. Heron himself became proud of them. You see, he had learned how to use what he had been given. Also he had learned the value of patience. So he was happy and envied no one. But he still liked best to keep by himself and became known as the lone fisherman, just as Longlegs is to-day. Chug-a-rum! Isn't that Longlegs coming this way this very minute? This is no place for me!"

With a great splash Grandfather Frog dived into the Smiling Pool.

XVI

HOW TUFTY THE LYNX HAPPENS TO HAVE A STUMP OF A TAIL

XVI

HOW TUFTY THE LYNX HAPPENS TO HAVE A STUMP OF A TAIL

In all his life Peter Rabbit had seen Tufty the Lynx but once, but that once was enough. Tufty, you know, lives in the Great Woods. But once, when the winter was very cold, he had ventured down into the Green Forest, hoping that it would be easier to get a living there. It was then that Peter had seen him. In fact, Peter had had the narrowest of escapes, and the very memory of it made him shiver. He never would forget that great, gray, skulking form that slipped like a shadow through the trees, that fierce, bearded face, those cruel, pale yellow-green eyes, or that switching stump of a tail.

That tail fascinated Peter. It was just an apology for a tail. For Tufty's size it was hardly as much of a tail as Peter himself has. It made Peter feel a lot better. Also it made him very curious. The first chance he got, he asked his cousin, Jumper the Hare, about it. You know Jumper used to live in the Great Woods where Tufty lives, and Peter felt sure that he must know the reason why Tufty has such a ridiculous stub of a tail. Jumper did know, and this is the story he told Peter:

"Way back in the beginning of things lived old Mr. Lynx."

"I know," interrupted Peter. "He was the great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather of Tufty, and he wasn't old then."

"Who's telling this story?" demanded Jumper crossly. "If you know it why did you ask me?"

"I beg your pardon. Indeed I do. I won't say another word," replied Peter hastily.

"All right, see that you don't. Interruptions always spoil a story," said Jumper. "You are quite right about old Mr. Lynx. He wasn't old then. No one was old, because it was in the beginning of things. At that time Mr. Lynx boasted a long tail, quite as fine a tail as his cousin, Mr. Panther. He was very proud of it. You know there is a saying that pride goes before a fall. It was so with Mr. Lynx. He boasted about his tail. He said that it was the finest tail in the world. He said so much that his neighbors got tired of hearing about it. He made a perfect nuisance of himself. He switched and waved his long tail about continually. It seemed as if that tail were never still. He made fun of those whose tails were shorter or of different shape or less handsome. He quite forgot that that tail had been given him by Old Mother Nature, but talked and acted as if he had grown that tail himself.

"When at last his neighbors could stand it no longer, they decided to teach him a lesson. One day while he was off hunting, they held a meeting, and it was decided that the very next time that Mr. Lynx boasted of his tail old King Bear should slip up behind him and step on it as close to his body as he could, and then each of the others should pull a little tuft of hair from it, so that it would be a long time before Mr. Lynx would be able to boast of its beauty again.

"The chance came that very evening. Mr. Lynx had had a very successful day, and he was feeling very fine. He began to boast of what a great hunter he was, and of how very clever and very smart he was, and then, as usual, he got to boasting about his tail. He was so intent on his boasting that he didn't notice old King Bear slipping around behind him. Old King Bear waited until that long tail was still for just an instant, and then he stepped on it as close to the roots of it as he could. Then all the other little people shouted with glee and began to pull little tufts of hair from it, until it was the most disreputable-looking tail ever seen.

"Old Mr. Lynx let out a yowl and a screech that was enough to make your blood run cold. But he couldn't do a thing, though he tore the ground up with his great claws and pulled with all his might. You see, old King Bear was very big and very heavy, and Mr. Lynx couldn't budge his tail a bit. And he couldn't turn to fight old King Bear, though it seemed as if he would turn himself inside out trying to.

"At last, when old King Bear thought he had been punished enough, he gave the word to the others, and they all scattered to safe hiding-places, for they were of no mind to be within reach of those great claws of Mr. Lynx. Then old King Bear let him go.