Mr. Rabbit at Home - Joel Chandler Harris (beach books .txt) 📗
- Author: Joel Chandler Harris
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“Finally the eye of the King of the Clinkers fell on Sparkle Spry. ‘Don’t sit there doing nothing,’ he cried. ‘Go fetch wood and pile it here by the furnace door. You can do that!’
“Sparkle Spry did as he was bid, but though he brought the wood as fast as he could, he found that he couldn’t bring it fast enough. Pretty soon the King of the Clinkers called out to him:
“‘You can rest now. The flour is all gone, and we have hardly begun.’
“‘There’s plenty in the storehouse,’ said Sparkle Spry.
“‘How many barrels?’ asked the King of the Clinkers.
“‘Two hundred,’ Sparkle Spry answered.
“The King of the Clinkers wrung his hands in despair. ‘Hardly a mouthful—hardly a mouthful! It will all be gone before the chickens crow for day. But run fetch the key. Two hundred barrels will keep us busy while they last.’
“Sparkle Spry brought the key of the storehouse door, and the little men swarmed in and rolled the barrels out in a jiffy. Only one accident happened. In taking the flour out of one of the barrels, after they had rolled it near the dough trough, one of the little men fell in and would have been drowned but for Sparkle Spry, who felt around in the loose flour and lifted him out.”
“Drowned!” cried Sweetest Susan.
“Of course,” answered Tickle-My-Toes. “Why not? I ought to have said ‘smothered,’ but now that I’ve said ‘drowned’ I’ll stick to it.”
“Better stick to the story,” remarked Mr. Rabbit solemnly,—“Better stick to the story.”
“Now, I think he’s doing very well,” said Mrs. Meadows in an encouraging tone.
“Well,” said Tickle-My-Toes, “the little men worked away until they had baked the two hundred barrels of flour into nice brown loaves of bread. This made five hundred barrels they had used, and that was all the baker had on hand. The fifteen hundred pounds of flour made twenty hundred and odd fat loaves, and these the King of the Clinkers had carried into the storehouse.
“When all this was done, and nicely done, the King of the Clinkers went to the door of the room where the baker and his wife were sleeping. They were snoring as peacefully as two good people ever did. Then he went to the street door and listened.
“‘Get home—get home!’ he cried to the little men. ‘I hear wagons rumbling on the pavement; they will be here presently for bread.’
“The little men scampered this way and that, behind the oven and into the ash heap, and, in a few seconds, all had disappeared.
“‘Now,’ said the King of the Clinkers, ‘I want to tell you that I’ve had a splendid time, and I’m very much obliged to you for it. I have enjoyed myself, and I want to make some returns for it. Pretty soon the bread wagons will be at the door clamoring for bread. You will wake the baker and his wife. When they find all their flour made into nice bread they will be very much surprised. They will ask you who did it. You must tell them the truth. They will not believe it, but they’ll be very proud of you. They will be willing to give you anything you want. Tell them you want a wooden horse. They will have it built for you. It must have a window on each side and good strong hinges in the legs. Good-by! I hear the wagons at the door.’
“The King of the Clinkers waved his hand and disappeared behind the oven. The wagons rattled near the door, the teamsters cracking their whips and calling for bread for the hungry army. Sparkle Spry ran to the baker and shook him, and ran to the baker’s wife and shook her. They were soon awake, but when the baker learned that the wagons had come for bread, he threw up both hands in despair.
“‘I’m ruined!’ he cried. ‘I ought to have been baking and here I’ve been sleeping! And the army marches away to-day, leaving me with all my stock of flour on hand. Oh, why didn’t the boy wake me?’
“‘Come,’ said his wife; ‘we’ll sell what we’ve got, and not cry over the rest.’
“They went into the storehouse, and there they saw a sight such as they had never seen before. The room was so full of steaming bread that they could hardly squeeze in at the door. From floor to ceiling it was stacked and packed. They sold and sold until every loaf was gone, and then, instead of the bread, the baker and his wife had a sack full of silver money.
“The baker went in to count it, but his wife took it away from him. ‘Not now,’ she said; ‘not until we have thanked this boy.’
“‘You are right!’ cried the baker. ‘It’s the most wonderful thing I ever heard of. How did you manage it?’
“‘Some little men helped me,’ answered Sparkle Spry.
“The woman seized his hands and kissed his fingers. ‘These are the little men,’ she exclaimed.
“‘There’s one thing I’m sorry for,’ said Sparkle Spry.
“‘What is that?’ asked the baker.
“‘Why, we had to burn so much wood.’
“‘Don’t mention it—don’t mention it,’ protested the baker.
“‘Now,’ said the baker’s wife, embracing Sparkle Spry again, ‘you deserve something for making us rich. What shall it be?’
“The baker frowned a little at this, but his brow cleared when Sparkle Spry replied that he wanted a wooden horse built.
“‘You shall have it,’ said the baker’s wife.
“‘Yes, indeed,’ assented the baker. ‘As fine a one as you want.’”
THE TERRIBLE HORSE.
When Tickle-My-Toes had told about how pleased the baker and his wife were with Sparkle Spry, he paused and looked at Chickamy Crany Crow, as if he expected that she would beckon him away. But, instead of that, she said:—
“Why, that isn’t all.”
“Well, it’s enough, I hope,” replied Tickle-My-Toes.
“No,” said Mrs. Meadows, “it’s not enough, if there’s any more. Why, so far it’s the best of all the stories. It’s new to me. I had an idea that I had heard all the stories, but this one is a pole over my persimmon, as we used to say in the country next door.”
“I don’t like to tell stories,” protested Tickle-My-Toes, puckering his face in a comical way. “It’s too confining.”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit. “It’s time you were settling down. What will you look like a year or two from now, if you keep on cutting up your capers?”
Tickle-My-Toes caught hold of the corner of Chickamy Crany Crow’s apron, and, thus fortified, resumed his story:—
“Well, the baker and his wife promised Sparkle Spry they would have him a big wooden horse made, and they were as good as their word. They sent right off that very day for a carpenter and joiner, and when he came, Sparkle Spry showed the man what he wanted. He said the horse must be as much like a real horse as could be made out of wood, and three times as big.
“The man asked the baker’s wife what the brat wanted with such a machine as that, and this made the good woman mad.
“‘He’s no brat, I can tell you that!’ she exclaimed, ‘and if he wants a play horse as big as a whale and the same shape, he shall have it. Now if you want to make his play horse, get to work and make it. If not, I’ll get somebody else to make it.’
“But the man declared he meant no harm, and said he was glad to get the work. So he got the lumber, and in a few days, being a very clever workman, he had finished the wooden horse. He made it just as Sparkle Spry wanted him to. He put big hinges at the joints of the legs, cut a window in each side of the body, made the ears and the nostrils hollow, and fixed pieces of glass for the eyes.
“The carpenter seemed to enjoy his work, too, for every time he went off a little distance to see how his work looked, he laughed as hard as he could. When he was nearly done he asked Sparkle Spry if he wanted the roof shingled.
“‘Why, no,’ replied the boy. ‘There’s no roof there. Besides, horses don’t have shingles on them.’
“He’ll look pretty rough,” remarked the man.
“‘Yes,’ said Sparkle Spry, ‘but after you get through with him he is to be polished off.’
“‘That’s so,’ the carpenter assented, ‘but this horse has a good many things about him that other horses haven’t got.’
“So, when the carpenter was through with the horse, a leather finisher was sent for, and he covered the horse with hides of cows tanned with the hair on, and fixed a cow’s tail where the horse’s tail should have been.
“The baker grumbled a little at this extra expense, and said he was afraid Sparkle Spry had strained his head the night he baked so much bread. But the baker’s wife said she would like to have a whole house full of crazy children, if Sparkle Spry was crazy.
“When the wooden horse was finished, Sparkle Spry waited until the baker and his wife had gone to bed, and then he tapped on the oven and whistled. Presently the King of the Clinkers peeped out to see what the matter was. He came from behind the oven cautiously, until he found that Sparkle Spry was alone, and then he came forth boldly.
“‘The horse is ready,’ said Sparkle Spry.
“‘Ready!’ exclaimed the King of the Clinkers. ‘Well, I think it is high time. My workmen could have built it in a night; and here I have been waiting and waiting for I don’t know how long.’
“‘I hope you’ll like it,’ Sparkle Spry suggested.
“‘Like it!’ cried the King of the Clinkers. ‘Why, of course I’ll like it. I haven’t enjoyed a ride in so long that I’m not likely to quarrel with the horse that carries me.’
“‘But this is a wooden horse,’ remarked Sparkle Spry.
“‘I should hope so; yes, indeed!’ grunted the King of the Clinkers. ‘I have been riding wooden horses as long as I can remember. They may be a little clumsy, but they suit me.’
“‘But this horse has no rockers,’ persisted Sparkle Spry. ‘It is as solid as a house.’
“‘Much you know about wooden horses,’ said the King of the Clinkers. ‘Wait; I’ll call my torchbearers.’
“He tapped on the oven with his tiny poker, and immediately a company of little men filed out from behind it. As they passed the furnace door they lit their torches at a live coal, and marched out to the wooden horse, followed by the King of the Clinkers and Sparkle Spry.
“The latter had reason to be very much astonished at what he saw then and afterwards. The torchbearers led the way to the left foreleg of the wooden horse, opened a door, and filed up a spiral stairway, the King of the Clinkers following after. Sparkle Spry climbed up by means of a stepladder that the carpenter had used. When he crawled through the window in the side of the wooden horse, he saw that a great transformation had taken place, and the sight of it almost took his breath away.
“A
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