L. Frank Baum (3 page)

"You—you scared us!" she said, timidly.

"You scared
me,
at first," returned the squirrel, in a comic tone.
"Dear me! how came you birds to have children's heads?"

"That isn't the way to put it," remarked Chubbins, staring back into
the eyes of the squirrel. "You should ask how we children happened to
have birds' bodies."

"Very well; put the conundrum that way, if you like," said the
squirrel. "What is the answer?"

"We are enchanted," replied Twinkle.

"Ah. The tuxix?"

"Yes. We were caught in the forest, and she bewitched us."

"That is too bad," said their new acquaintance. "She is a very wicked
old creature, for a fact, and loves to get folks into trouble. Are you
going to live here?"

"Yes," answered the girl. "Policeman Bluejay gave us this nest."

"Then it's all right; for Policeman Bluejay rules the feathered tribes
of this forest about as he likes. Have you seen him in full uniform
yet?"

"No," they replied, "unless his feathers are his uniform."

"Well, he's too proud of his office to be satisfied with feathers, I
can tell you. When some folks get a little authority they want all the
world to know about it, and a bold uniform covers many a faint heart.
But as I'm your nearest neighbor I'll introduce myself. My name's
Wisk."

"My name is Twinkle."

"And mine's Chubbins."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," said the squirrel, nodding. "I
live in the second flat."

"How's that?" asked the boy.

"Why, the second hollow, you know. There's a 'possum living in the
hollow down below, who is carrying four babies around in her pocket;
and Mrs. Hootaway, the gray owl, lives in the hollow above—the one you
can see far over your heads. So I'm the second flat tenant."

"I see," said Twinkle.

"Early in the morning the 'possum comes growling home to go to bed;
late at night the owl hoots and keeps folks awake; but I'm very quiet
and well behaved, and you'll find me a good neighbor," continued Wisk.

"I'm sure of that," said Chubbins.

As if to prove his friendship the squirrel now darted out of the hollow
and sat upon a limb beside the children, holding his bushy tail
straight up so that it stood above his head like a big plume in a
soldier's helmet.

"Are you hungry?" asked the girl.

"Not very. I cannot get much food until the nuts are ripe, you know,
and my last winter's supply was gone long ago. But I manage to find
some bits to eat, here and there."

"Do you like cookies?" she asked.

"I really do not know," answered Wisk. "Where do they grow?"

"In baskets. I'll get you a piece, and you can try it." So Twinkle flew
up and crept into her basket again, quickly returning with a bit of
cookie in her claw. It was not much more than a crumb, but nevertheless
it was all that she could carry.

The squirrel seized the morsel in his paws, examined it gravely, and
then took a nibble. An instant later it was gone.

"That is very good, indeed!" he declared. "Where do these baskets of
cookies grow?"

"They don't grow anywhere," replied Twinkle, with a laugh. "The baskets
come from the grocery store, and my mama makes the cookies."

"Oh; they're human food, then."

"Yes; would you like some more?"

"Not just now," said Wisk. "I don't want to rob you, and it is foolish
to eat more than one needs, just because the food tastes good. But if I
get very hungry, perhaps I'll ask you for another bite."

"Do," said the girl. "You are welcome to what we have, as long as it
lasts."

"That is very kind of you," returned the squirrel.

They sat and talked for an hour, and Wisk told them stories of the
forest, and of the many queer animals and birds that lived there. It
was all very interesting to the children, and they listened eagerly
until they heard a rushing sound in the air that sent Wisk scurrying
back into his hole.

Twinkle and Chubbins stretched their little necks to see what was
coming, and a moment later beheld one of the most gorgeous sights the
forest affords—a procession of all the bright-hued birds that live
among the trees or seek them for shelter.

They flew in pairs, one after the other, and at the head of the
procession was their good friend Policeman Bluejay, wearing a
policeman's helmet upon his head and having a policeman's club tucked
underneath his left wing. The helmet was black and glossy and had a big
number "1" on the front of it, and a strap that passed under the
wearer's bill and held it firmly in place. The club was fastened around
the policeman's wing with a cord, so that it could not get away when he
was flying.

The birds were of many sizes and of various colorings. Some were much
larger than the bluejay, but none seemed so proud or masterful, and all
deferred meekly to the commands of the acknowledged guardian of the
forest.

One by one the pretty creatures alighted upon the limbs of the tree,
and the first thing they all did was to arrange their feathers properly
after their rapid flight. Then the bluejay, who sat next to the
child-larks, proceeded to introduce the guests he had brought to call
upon the newest inhabitants of his domain.

"This is Mr. and Mrs. Robin Redbreast, one of our most aristocratic
families," said he, swinging his club around in a circle until Chubbins
ducked his head for fear it might hit him.

"You are welcome to our forest," chirped Robin, in a sedate and
dignified tone.

"And here is Mr. Goldfinch and his charming bride," continued the
policeman.

"Ah, it is a pleasure to meet you," the goldfinch murmured, eyeing the
child-larks curiously, but trying to be so polite that they would not
notice his staring.

"Henny Wren and Jenny Wren," proceeded the policeman.

Twinkle and Chubbins both bowed politely.

"Well, well!" croaked a raven, in a hoarse voice, "am I to wait all day
while you introduce those miserable little insignificant grub-eaters?"

"Be quiet!" cried Policeman Bluejay, sternly.

"I won't," snapped the raven.

It happened so quickly that the children saw nothing before they heard
the thump of the club against the raven's head.

"Caw—waw—waw—waw! Murder! Help!" screamed the big bird, and flew
away from the tree as swiftly as his ragged wings would carry him.

"Let him go," said a sweet brown mocking-bird. "The rowdy is always
disturbing our social gatherings, and no one will miss him if he
doesn't come back."

"He is not fit for polite society," added a nuthatcher, pruning her
scarlet wings complacently.

So the policeman tucked the club under his wing again and proceeded
with the introductions, the pewees and the linnets being next presented
to the strangers, and then the comical little chicadees, the orioles,
bobolinks, thrushes, starlings and whippoorwills, the latter appearing
sleepy because, they explained, they had been out late the night
before.

These smaller birds all sat in rows on the limbs beside Twinkle and
Chubbins; but seated upon the stouter limbs facing them were rows of
bigger birds who made the child-larks nervous by the sharp glances from
their round, bright eyes. Here were blackbirds, cuckoos, magpies,
grosbeaks and wood-pigeons, all nearly as big and fierce-looking as
Policeman Bluejay himself, and some so rugged and strong that it seemed
strange they would submit to the orders of the officer of the law. But
the policeman kept a sharp watch upon these birds, to see that they
attempted no mischievous pranks, and they must have been afraid of him
because they behaved very well after the saucy raven had left them.
Even the chattering magpies tried to restrain their busy tongues, and
the blackbirds indulged in no worse pranks than to suddenly spread
their wings and try to push the pigeons off the branch.

Several beautiful humming-birds were poised in the air above this
gathering, their bodies being motionless but their tiny wings
fluttering so swiftly that neither Twinkle nor Chubbins could see them
at all.

Policeman Bluejay, having finally introduced all the company to the
child-larks, began to relate the story of their adventures, telling the
birds how the wicked tuxix had transformed them into the remarkable
shapes they now possessed.

"For the honor of our race," he said, "we must each and every one guard
these little strangers carefully, and see that they come to no harm in
our forest. You must all pledge yourselves to befriend them on all
occasions, and if any one dares to break his promise he must fight with
me to the death—and you know very well what that means."

"We do," said a magpie, with a shrill laugh. "You'll treat us as you
did Jim Crow. Eh?"

The policeman did not notice this remark, but the other birds all
looked grave and thoughtful, and began in turn to promise that they
would take care to befriend the child-larks at all times. This ceremony
having been completed, the birds began to converse in a more friendly
and easy tone, so that Twinkle and Chubbins soon ceased to be afraid of
them, and enjoyed very much their society and friendly chatter.

"We are really very happy in this forest," said an oriole that sat next
to Twinkle, "and we would have no fears at all did not the men with
guns, who are called hunters, come here now and then to murder us. They
are terribly wild and ferocious creatures, who have no hearts at all."

"Oh, they
must
have hearts," said Twinkle, "else they couldn't live.
For one's heart has to beat to keep a person alive, you know."

"Perhaps it's their gizzards that beat," replied the oriole,
reflectively, "for they are certainly heartless and very wicked. A
cousin of mine, Susie Oriole, had a very brave and handsome husband.
They built a pretty nest together and Susie laid four eggs in it that
were so perfect that she was very proud of them.

"The eggs were nearly ready to hatch when a great man appeared in the
forest and discovered Susie's nest. Her brave husband fought
desperately to protect their home, but the cruel man shot him, and he
fell to the ground dead. Even then Susie would not leave her pretty
eggs, and when the man climbed the tree to get them she screamed and
tried to peck out his eyes. Usually we orioles are very timid, you
know; so you can well understand how terrified Susie was to fight
against this giant foe. But he had a club in his hand, with which he
dealt my poor cousin such a dreadful blow that she was sent whirling
through the air and sank half unconscious into a bush a few yards away.

"After this the man stole the eggs from the nest, and also picked up
the dead body of Susie's husband and carried it away with him. Susie
recovered somewhat from the blow she had received, and when she saw her
eggs and her poor dead husband being taken away, she managed to flutter
along after the man and followed him until he came to the edge of the
forest. There he had a horse tied to a tree, and he mounted upon the
beast's back and rode away through the open country. Susie followed
him, just far enough away to keep the man in sight, without being
noticed herself.

"By and bye he came to a big house, which he entered, closing the door
behind him. Susie flew into a tree beside the house and waited
sorrowfully but in patience for a chance to find her precious ones
again.

"The days passed drearily away, one after another, but in about a week
my cousin noticed that one of the windows of the house had been left
open. So she boldly left her tree and flew in at the window, and
luckily none of the people who lived in the house happened to be in the
room.

"Imagine Susie's surprise when she saw around the sides of the room
many birds sitting silently upon limbs cut from trees, and among them
her own husband, as proud and beautiful as he had ever been before the
cruel man had killed him! She quickly flew to the limb and perched
beside her loved one.

"'Oh, my darling!' she cried, 'how glad I am to have found you again,
and to see you alive and well when I had mourned you as dead. Come with
me at once, and we will return to our old home in the forest.'

"But the bird remained motionless and made no reply to her loving
words. She thrust her bill beside his and tried to kiss him, but he did
not respond to the caress and his body was stiff and cold.

"Then Susie uttered a cry of grief, and understood the truth. Her
husband was indeed dead, but had been stuffed and mounted upon the limb
to appear as he had in life. Small wires had been pushed through his
legs to make his poor body stand up straight, and to Susie's horror she
discovered that his eyes were only bits of glass! All the other birds
in the room were stuffed in the same way. They looked as if they were
alive, at the first glance; but each body was cold and every voice
mute. They were mere mockeries of the beautiful birds that this
heartless and cruel man had deprived of their joyous lives.

"Susie's loving heart was nearly bursting with pain as she slowly
fluttered toward the open window by which she had entered. But on her
way a new anguish overtook her, for she noticed a big glass case
against the wall in which were arranged clusters of eggs stolen from
birds of almost every kind. Yes; there were her own lovely eggs,
scarcely an inch from her face, but separated from her by a stout glass
that could not be broken, although she madly dashed her body against it
again and again.

"Finally, realizing her helplessness, poor Susie left the room by the
open window and flew back to the forest, where she told us all the
terrible thing she had seen. No one was able to comfort her, for her
loving heart was broken; and after that she would often fly away to the
house to peer through the window at her eggs and her beautiful husband.