The Tale of the The Muley Cow - Slumber-Town Tales

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Title: The Tale of the The Muley Cow - Slumber-Town Tales
Author: Bailey, Arthur Scott, 1877-1949
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Tale of the The Muley Cow - Slumber-Town Tales" ***

SLEEPY-TIME TALES

(Trademark Registered.)

By ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY

AUTHOR OF THE
TUCK-ME-IN TALES and SLUMBER-TOWN TALES

=Colored Wrapper and Text Illustrations Drawn by HARRY L. SMITH=

This series of animal stories for children from three to eight years,
tells of the adventures of the four-footed creatures of our American
woods and fields in an amusing way, which delights small two-footed
human beings.

THE TALE OF CUFFY BEAR
THE TALE OF FRISKY SQUIRREL
THE TALE OF TOMMY FOX
THE TALE OF FATTY COON
THE TALE OF BILLY WOODCHUCK
THE TALE OF JIMMY RABBIT
THE TALE OF PETER MINK
THE TALE OF SANDY CHIPMUNK
THE TALE OF BROWNIE BEAVER
THE TALE OF PADDY MUSKRAT
THE TALE OF FERDINAND FROG
THE TALE OF DICKIE DEER MOUSE
THE TALE OF TIMOTHY TURTLE
THE TALE OF BENNY BADGER
THE TALE OF MAJOR MONKEY
THE TALE OF GRUMPY WEASEL
THE TALE OF GRANDFATHER MOLE
THE TALE OF MASTER MEADOW MOUSE

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

THE TALE OF
THE MULEY COW

SLUMBER-TOWN TALES

(Trademark Registered)

ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY

AUTHOR OF

_SLEEPY-TIME TALES_

(Trademark Registered)

_TUCK-ME-IN TALES_

(Trademark Registered)

THE TALE OF THE MULEY COW

THE TALE OF OLD DOG SPOT

THE TALE OF GRUNTY PIG

THE TALE OF HENRIETTA HEN

THE TALE OF TURKEY PROUDFOOT

THE TALE OF PONY TWINKLEHEELS

THE TALE OF MISS KITTY CAT

[Illustration: "I Hope You Won't Mind," Said the Muley Cow.

_Frontispiece_--(_Page 22_)]

SLUMBER-TOWN TALES
(Trademark Registered)

THE TALE OF
THE MULEY COW

BY
ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY

Author of
"SLEEPY-TIME TALES"
(Trademark Registered)

AND

"TUCK-ME-IN TALES"
(Trademark Registered)

ILLUSTRATED BY
HARRY L. SMITH

NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
Made in the United States of America

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I JOHNNIE GREEN'S FAVORITE 1

II WHY JOHNNIE HURRIED 6

III WORKING FOR A PRIZE 11

IV OWNING A BOY 16

V THE FRIENDLY SCARECROW 21

VI BUFFALO HUNTS 26

VII A LITTLE SURPRISE 31

VIII IT WAS A BEAR 35

IX WEARING A POKE 39

X A SLIGHT MISTAKE 45

XI THE UNRULY MULEY 50

XII THE COWBIRDS 55

XIII TRUTH WILL OUT 59

XIV THE MUSKRATS' WARNING 65

XV CARRYING A MESSAGE 70

XVI CLOVER TOPS 75

XVII NO HELP FROM SPOT 80

XVIII ONE APPLE TOO MANY 84

XIX A QUESTION OF LUCK 88

XX GOOD CORN WASTED 92

XXI A BRAVE DEED 97

XXII TRYING TO BE FIERCE 101

XXIII THE VOW OF A COW 106

XXIV HUMBUGS 110

ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

"I HOPE YOU WON'T MIND," SAID THE MULEY COW _Frontispiece_

THE MULEY COW EXPLAINS WHAT A POKE IS 49

THE MULEY COW TRIES TO STOP BILL WOODCHUCK 80

THE MULEY COW UPSETS JACK O'LANTERN 96

THE TALE OF THE MULEY COW

JOHNNIE GREEN'S FAVORITE

A few of the farmyard folk were a bit jealous of the Muley Cow. The
little red lady that stood on one side of her, in the barn, often said
that Johnnie Green was wasting too many goodies on her. It seemed as if
he never entered the cow barn without bringing some tidbit for old
Muley, as her neighbors called her--behind her back. If it wasn't a
potato that Johnnie fished out of his pocket it might be an apple or a
carrot, or maybe a piece of pumpkin, or turnip, or beet.

At such times the little red cow would cast a knowing look at the big
white person on the other side of the Muley Cow, as if to say, "There!
He's at it again! Did you ever, in all your life?" And the big white cow
would twist her head as far around as her stanchion would let her, and
stretch her lean neck to the utmost, hoping for a share of the treat.
She often told the little red cow, privately, that the delicious smell
of such things as potatoes and apples was enough to drive anybody
frantic.

They had agreed, long before, that it was very unpleasant to be stabled
beside Johnnie Green's favorite. That was what they called the Muley
Cow--"the Favorite" (when they didn't speak of her as "old Muley"). But
when they spoke _to_ her they were as polite as you please, because she
was the oldest cow on the farm and was an aunt to both of them.

Whenever Johnnie Green gave some dainty morsel to the Muley Cow he first
cut it into medium sized pieces with his jackknife. There was a good
reason why he did that, as you will learn later.

Merely feeding good things to her was not the only way in which Johnnie
showed that the Muley Cow was his favorite. Next to the choice mouthfuls
that he brought her, she liked to have him curry and brush her, just as
he curried and brushed the ancient horse, Ebenezer. Especially in the
winter, when she stood long hours in the barn with her neck in a
stanchion, did the Muley Cow enjoy Johnnie's attentions with currycomb
and brush.

In the summer, when she spent every day in the pasture, she was able to
lick her back with her long, rough tongue whenever she pleased; and
sometimes she would even get some friend to do it for her. But you may
be sure she never sought such a favor of the little red cow, nor the big
white one, either. Naturally they could scarcely have refused, had their
aunt asked them. But the Muley Cow knew well enough that they would make
disagreeable remarks afterward. So when she wanted help she usually
turned to some cow whose place in the barn was a long way from her own.
Somehow her best friends were those that didn't spend the winter near
enough to her to notice whenever Johnnie Green gave her something good
to eat.

Really it was not strange that Johnnie Green petted the Muley Cow.
Farmer Green had given her to Johnnie. She belonged to him. But the
Muley Cow never spoke of the matter in just that way. She preferred to
say that Johnnie Green belonged to her.

WHY JOHNNIE HURRIED

It was a proud day for Johnnie Green when his father told him that he
might have the Muley Cow for his very own. The moment he heard the news
Johnnie couldn't help interrupting his father with a shout.

"Not so fast!" said Farmer Green, with what Johnnie knew was only a
"pretend" frown. "She's not yours--yet. And when you learn what you'll
have to do to win her perhaps you won't want the old cow after all."

"Won't I?" cried Johnnie Green. "I'll do anything you ask of me!"

"When you've learned to milk her, she'll be yours," his father said.

It was noon on a summer day when all this happened. And Johnnie Green
wanted to go to the pasture at once and drive the Muley Cow home to be
milked. But his father wouldn't let him do that. He said Johnnie must
wait until milking-time came, that evening.

Now, it had often happened, in the past, that Johnnie was late in
driving the cows home. But on this day he started off for the pasture
with old dog Spot a half hour earlier than usual. Any cows that lingered
to snatch a mouthful of tempting grass by the wayside found themselves
rudely urged along toward the barn.

There was some grumbling among them. And the Muley Cow told her
companions that if she had known Johnnie Green was going to be in such a
hurry she would have jumped the fence into the back pasture and stayed
there as long as she pleased.

They had not been in the barn a great while before the Muley Cow had a
surprise. Johnnie Green, carrying a three-legged stool in one hand and a
milk pail in the other, stepped alongside her, on her left.

"If I were you, I'd get on the other side," said his father with a grin,
"unless you want her to kick you and teach you better."

Johnnie Green couldn't help looking sheepish. If his father hadn't
cautioned him he would have tried to milk the Muley Cow on the wrong
side. He was so eager to learn to milk her, and to win her for a prize,
that he scarcely knew what he was doing.

There was a stir among the cows nearby. They talked in a rumbling
undertone, telling one another that Farmer Green's boy was going to
learn to milk the Muley Cow and saying they were glad it was not
themselves that Johnnie was going to try to milk.

"No boy shall ever milk me!" the little red cow muttered to the Muley
Cow. "If I were you I'd give him a good kick."

"Oh! I can't do that," the Muley Cow told her. "Farmer Green has always
treated me well. I don't want to hurt his boy."

"I'd give him a good fright, at least," the big white cow advised her.
"I'd put my foot in the pail, if he tried to milk me."

But the Muley Cow said that she would stand as still as she could and
give down her milk just as she always did for Farmer Green himself.

And everybody told her that she was making a big mistake.

III

WORKING FOR A PRIZE

Of course Johnnie Green was very slow the first time he milked the Muley
Cow. For a few minutes his father stood beside him and told him a few
things that he needed to know. And then Farmer Green went away and left
Johnnie to do his best all alone.

"Now's your chance!" the little red cow said to the Muley Cow. "Upset
the boy before Farmer Green comes back!"

But the Muley Cow didn't even stop chewing her cud long enough to
answer. She looked so mild and contented that no one would have guessed
she was wishing more than ever that she had jumped the fence and lost
herself in the back pasture. It seemed to her that Johnnie Green never
would finish milking her.

"I hope he'll be done with me by dark," she said to herself. "I wouldn't
like to lose any of my night's rest."

Yet she never let anybody know that she was impatient. She stood as
still as she could, only lifting a foot and stamping now and then when
some fly was too bothersome. And she never switched her tail except when
a fly gave her an unusually hard bite. To be sure, once she brought the
end of her tail _smack_ across Johnnie Green's cheek. But that was a
mistake. Though it stung sharply, all Johnnie Green said was, "So, boss!
So, boss!"

She was glad when Farmer Green came back at last, peeped into the pail
that Johnnie was clutching between his knees, and said, "Well, you
haven't done badly. But you'd better let me finish for you."

So Johnnie slipped off the three-legged stool and watched while his
father sat down and got the rest of the Muley Cow's milk in no time.

"Farmer Green milked eight cows while that lazy boy was puttering with
you," the little red cow said to the Muley Cow.

"Well, well! I suppose Farmer Green had to learn to milk when he was a
boy," the Muley Cow replied, as she flicked a big fly off her back. "And
this boy of his," she added, "he's going to be a good milker--once he
gets the knack of it."

Just then Johnnie Green came trotting down the long passageway in front
of the cows. He stopped in front of the Muley Cow and offered her a
piece of an early apple--one of the first ripe ones of the summer.

She accepted the gift with much pleasure, while her neighbors on either
side, stirred restlessly as she munched the apple. They said nothing
just then. But anybody could see that they wished Johnnie Green would
let them have a taste too.

"She earned it," the big white cow told the little red cow, later. "She
had to stand still at least three-quarters of an hour, while that boy
was trying to milk her."

The little red cow gave a slight sniff. "No doubt the apple was sour,
anyhow," she muttered.

The Muley Cow couldn't help hearing what her two neighbors were saying.
And although she was a well-mannered person and had a kindly
disposition, she couldn't resist telling them that the apple was sweet
and juicy.

"If you had had a taste of it you would agree with me," said the Muley
Cow.

OWNING A BOY

By the end of a week Johnnie Green was able to milk quite well. When he
sat down beside the Muley Cow he could play a merry tune as he made the
tiny streams of milk tinkle against the bottom of the milk pail. And he
managed to milk the Muley Cow while his father was milking only three
others.

"Don't you think," Johnnie asked his father, "that I ought to own the
Muley Cow by this time?"

But Farmer Green thought that he mustn't make the prize too easy to win.
He laughed and shook his head. "When you can milk half as fast as I
can, I'll agree that she's yours," he promised.

Before a month had slipped by Johnnie Green raced with his father one
night and finished milking the Muley Cow _before_ his father could milk
the little red cow and the big white one.

"Hurrah!" Johnnie shouted, as he jumped up from his three-legged stool.
"I've got a cow of my own!" But he didn't shout too loud, for he had
learned that one ought not to be noisy around the cattle.

Somehow his father seemed almost as pleased as he was.

As for the Muley Cow herself, she didn't know just how to feel. She
couldn't help hearing what was said. And her neighbors were craning
their necks, for they couldn't help staring at her to see how she took
the news.

It was just a bit uncomfortable for the Muley Cow, at first. But when
Johnnie Green patted her and picked a prickly burr off her back she felt
that matters might have been worse. And when he gave her a tender young
beet as a special treat she began to think that matters couldn't have
been better. She saw right away that being owned by a boy wasn't a bad
thing, after all. It was the _sound_ of it that she didn't like.

Naturally there was a good deal of gossip among the cows. And the next
day, in the pasture, one meddlesome creature went up to the Muley Cow
and asked her _what she was going to do about it_.

"About what?" the Muley Cow inquired.

"About your being owned by Farmer Green's boy," the other explained.
"Are you going to run away?"

Well, the Muley Cow laughed right in her face. It wasn't a thing she
was used to doing. But the question seemed to her a very silly one.

"Run away!" she exclaimed. "Why should I run away? I've lived on the
farm all my life and I wouldn't leave it for anything."

"But that boy! Surely, at your age, you can't enjoy belonging to anybody
as young as he is!" the prying neighbor went on.

"Bless you!" cried the Muley Cow. "If he milks me, and takes me to the
pasture and back, and gives me good things to eat, and brushes my coat
for me, shouldn't you say that he belonged to me? It isn't every cow
that has a boy like Johnnie Green to wait on her."

The meddlesome neighbor didn't quite know what answer to make. She was
rather a stupid person, anyhow. Moreover, she was a great gossip. So she
hurried off to tell all her friends that they were mistaken about
Johnnie Green and the Muley Cow.

A good many of her friends admitted that there was something to be said
on both sides of the question. And all of them agreed that the Muley Cow
was certainly Johnnie Green's favorite.

THE FRIENDLY SCARECROW

Old Mr. Crow and all his cronies made fun of the scarecrow in the
cornfield. They said that he was a great joke. "He doesn't know
anything," they used to chuckle. "His head has nothing but straw inside
it."

The Muley Cow had often heard the noisy crows laughing about the limp
gentleman who hung on a long, upright stick beyond the pasture fence.
She had paid little heed to him, herself, until one day she took a
notion to jump the fence and taste the young shoots of corn. For they
certainly did look tempting.

Being, generally, a well-mannered creature, the Muley Cow thought it
only polite to speak to the scarecrow. So she lowed gently to attract
his attention. And when he swung around, as he presently did, and faced
her she bowed pleasantly and said, "I hope you won't mind if I sample
the corn."

No one could have been more courteous than the scarecrow. To be sure, he
_said_ nothing. But he waved an arm (as the breeze caught it) in a wide
sweep.

"Surely," the Muley Cow thought, "he means that I'm to take all I want."

After thanking him she helped herself freely to the young corn. Indeed,
she was almost greedy about it. Only the fact that the scarecrow seemed
to throw a look at her now and then kept her from eating more. Somehow
she couldn't forget that he acted very gentlemanly, though his clothes
were tattered and torn. And she felt that she must do nothing to offend
him.

"The corn is as good as any I've ever tasted," she assured him.

The scarecrow showed that he must have heard her, for he gave a sort of
nod. And he tried his best to touch his hat. But the wind wasn't blowing
quite hard enough to let him do that. "Poor fellow!" the Muley Cow
thought. "He hasn't the entire use of his arms."

Then the scarecrow went through some odd motions. First he kicked
backward with one leg; then he kicked forward with the other; and after
that he whirled three times around the stake that supported him.

"Now, what can he mean by that?" the Muley Cow wondered. And then all at
once she gave a silly sort of giggle. "I know!" she exclaimed. "He
wants me to dance with him!"

For a moment the Muley Cow forgot that she was the oldest cow on the
farm. She tossed her head, flirted her heels in the air, and cut a few
clumsy capers around the scarecrow, who did his best to dance a
jig--only the wind died down completely just as he was in the middle of
it. And he hung from his pole in such a woebegone fashion that the Muley
Cow began to feel uneasy about him.

"You're not ill, I hope?" she ventured, as she stopped her prancing.

He paid not the slightest heed to her. So with her nose the Muley Cow
touched him where a knee would have been, had he had any. And even then
he hung motionless.

The Muley Cow was alarmed. But she didn't linger to find out what was
the matter with the scarecrow. She heard shouting. And she heard old
dog Spot barking. And knowing at once that Farmer Green had caught her
in the cornfield she turned and fled as fast as she could go.

"Something's wrong with that scarecrow," she muttered to herself as she
lumbered along toward the barnyard. "He's so kind and gentlemanly he
would surely have warned me if he had been able to. He would have let me
know that Farmer Green was coming."

BUFFALO HUNTS

Johnnie Green found, after a while, that owning a cow wasn't all fun.
There were times when he would have been willing to let his father, or
the hired man, milk the Muley Cow. For instance, a boy from a
neighboring farm might come along about milking-time with a fine plan
for play. Or someone driving past the house on his way to the village
might ask Johnnie to go along too.

Once or twice, on such occasions, Johnnie tried to wriggle out of
milking. But he soon learned better. His father told him that a duty was
a duty.

And Johnnie knew exactly what he meant.

As for the Muley Cow, she went about her business as if no great change
had come into her life. And if now and then she took a notion to look
for better grass in the back pasture on the edge of the woods, she would
jump the fence just as she always had and stray off among the clumps of
trees and bushes.

When Johnnie went to drive the cows home at "cow-come-home time," as he
used to call it when he was younger, he always looked first for the
Muley Cow. And if he didn't see her he always knew what had happened.

"She's in the back pasture again!" Johnnie would exclaim--sometimes none
too pleasantly. For the back pasture stretched way around a shoulder of
the hill, and being half overgrown it offered a fine hiding place for
the old cow. Sometimes it meant a good hour's search before Johnnie
found her.

In days past Johnnie Green had been known to drive the herd home without
noticing that the Muley Cow was missing. But now that she belonged to
him such an oversight never happened. The Muley Cow soon noticed that
Johnnie always came for her, no matter where she went.

"It won't hurt him to hunt for me now and then," she told herself. "A
little work is good for a boy."

Somehow Johnnie Green did not feel just that way about work. He seemed
to have an idea that work was a good thing for a boy to avoid. And if
you couldn't escape it, then the wisest thing to do was to make play of
it. By pretending hard enough, Johnnie had discovered that he could
make a game of almost anything his father wanted him to do.

So it wasn't long before he was enjoying buffalo hunts in the back
pasture. With old dog Spot along it was a lively game and most exciting.

The Muley Cow found it exciting too. The first time that Johnnie tried
to lasso her with a length of his mother's clothesline she started for
home on a lumbering gallop.

And Johnnie chased her until he remembered that it was bad for a cow to
run. Besides, he was out of breath. So he whistled to old Spot, who had
been barking just behind the Muley Cow's heels, and told him to come
back and behave himself.

That night the Muley Cow wouldn't give down her milk for the longest
time. And Johnnie Green knew right well that she was holding it back
because he had teased her.

VII

A LITTLE SURPRISE

Little by little the Muley Cow learned not to be disturbed by Johnnie
Green's clothesline lasso, when he swung it in wide circles about his
head and then flung it at hers. She found that the rope did her no harm.
Indeed, the more Johnnie practiced the more expert he became. Before a
great while he could drop his noose over the Muley Cow's head almost
every time he tried--when she stood still.

By that time Johnnie began to tire of the sport of buffalo hunting (with
the Muley Cow for the buffalo). He wished he might try lassoing her from
the back of the old horse Ebenezer. But he hardly thought his father
would approve of the plan.

Well, Johnnie, the Muley Cow and Spot the dog were in the back pasture
one day, where the Muley Cow had strayed. And as Johnnie paused to pick
a few blackberries he thought what a humdrum place Pleasant Valley was,
anyway, and how he would like to go off where there were real buffaloes,
and Indians, and--

And just then old dog Spot began to growl. His hair bristled on his
back. And Johnnie Green was sure that they had stumbled on game of some
sort. He hoped it was at least a woodchuck.

"Sic him, Spot!" Johnnie cried.

But old Spot hung back, instead of dashing into the bushes toward which
he was pointing. That wasn't at all like him. Johnnie Green couldn't
understand it.

The Muley Cow, too, thought it very odd. "I declare," she said to
herself, "I believe old Spot's afraid of something. I believe he's
afraid of a woodchuck." And she gave a sort of chuckle, thinking it a
great joke. Neither she nor her friends were any too fond of Spot. And
she intended to tell the whole herd how he didn't dare chase a
woodchuck.

Meanwhile Johnnie Green picked up a stone and threw it into the clump of
bushes. And then he heard something that was between a growl and a
grunt.

The Muley Cow heard it too. She knew that no woodchuck ever made a sound
like that. And all at once she caught a whiff of the strangest,
_wildest_ sort of scent.

It was enough for the Muley Cow. "My goodness!" she bellowed. "I'm going
home!" And off she dashed down the hillside. She had forgotten all
about the joke on old dog Spot.

Johnnie Green had not noticed that the Muley Cow had fled. He was
running towards the hidden game, in the thicket, when that queer grunty
growl made him stop short. The next moment, not ten feet in front of him
a shaggy form rose up out of the tangle and glared straight at him.

It was a bear!

VIII

IT WAS A BEAR

When the bear rose out of the bushes and looked at him--and said "Woof!"
too--Johnnie Green did not bellow as the Muley Cow had. But he turned
and ran. Once he tripped on a root and fell headlong. But he was on his
feet again in a jiffy and running faster than ever. And though he had
only half as many legs as the Muley Cow, he reached the pasture fence
not far behind her.

It was the first time Johnnie Green had known the Muley Cow to jump the
fence _back into_ the pasture, after jumping out of it. Before, she had
always made him let down the bars for her, quite as if she had never
done such a giddy thing as to leap over a fence. Now, however, she was
in too great a hurry to bother with bars. So she topped the fence like a
deer, while Johnnie slipped through it like a pig a few seconds later,
and old Spot wriggled under it like a weasel soon afterward.

Once in the pasture they all three went slipping and sliding down the
steep hillside, tore through the prickly raspberry patch, splashed
through the brook, and never stopped until they saw Johnnie Green's
father raking hay in a field nearby. As they came to a halt at last they
looked at one another somewhat foolishly.

"You were scared," Johnnie Green accused Spot. "You made a loud enough
racket; but you took good care to keep out of the bear's reach."

The old dog barked his denial. He had been the last to run away. And he
thought that proved he was the bravest of the three.

"You were the scaredest," Johnnie told the Muley Cow.

And she didn't deny it. How could she know that the most frightened of
all was young Cuffy Bear, and that even then he was scrambling up the
steep side of Blue Mountain? He was still putting as much ground as he
could between himself and the three odd folk he had met by accident in
the back pasture.

Old Spot, too, never guessed how he had scared the bear. And Johnnie
wouldn't have known it, either, except for what Farmer Green said when
he heard about the adventure.

"That bear is probably running yet," he said as he threw back his head
and laughed. "He'll never stop this side of the mountain. He must have
come down to pick blackberries. But he lost his taste for them when he
saw you."

"Ho!" Johnnie Green exclaimed all at once. "I might have lassoed that
bear--if I had thought in time."

WEARING A POKE

The cows never paid much attention to the woodchucks, unless it was to
scold them now and then for eating too much clover. But living as they
did in the pasture, the woodchucks took a great interest in Farmer
Green's herd. Many a bit of gossip about some cow passed from one
woodchuck hole to another, without the cow herself ever dreaming that
folk were talking about her.

Whenever Billy Woodchuck's mother heard any specially interesting news
about a cow she was more than likely to put on her best apron and hurry
over to make a call on Aunt Polly Woodchuck, the famous herb doctor,
who lived under the hill.

Well, one morning while the dew was still on the grass Billy saw his
mother dash into the house, whisk off her old apron and reach for her
best one. He knew at once, without asking, exactly where she was going.
Nor was he sorry, because Mrs. Woodchuck always stayed a long time at
Aunt Polly's. And that gave Billy a chance to do a number of things
without being told "Don't!"

Alas! "You'd better come with me," his mother said.

"Oh, I'd rather not," he protested. "I--I'm not feeling very well this
morning."

"Then you must certainly come," she insisted, "for I'm going to see Aunt
Polly Woodchuck and she'll give you a dose of herbs to cure you."

Billy Woodchuck began to squirm. He saw that he had got himself into
trouble.

"I'll be all right if I keep still a while," he stammered. "And then I'm
going out to gather a nice lot of greens for you."

"You'll do nothing of the sort!" said his mother. "You'll come with me.
You'd be sure to get into mischief if I left you here."

So off they went. And Mrs. Woodchuck hurried so fast that she was quite
out of breath when she reached Aunt Polly Woodchuck's house. She had to
sit down and rest before she could tell Aunt Polly the news that was on
the tip of her tongue.

While waiting for her guest to compose herself, Aunt Polly Woodchuck
looked over her spectacles at Billy, who lingered near the door.

"Come here, young man!" she said. Though her tone was severe, Billy
Woodchuck took heart. He thought he saw a twinkle in the old lady's eye.
"I can see," Aunt Polly told him, "that you need an apple." And
thereupon she handed him one. And Billy Woodchuck declared as soon as he
began to eat it that he felt much better.

"I hope you're quite well," Aunt Polly said to Billy's mother, who was
at last beginning to get her breath.

"Yes--very!" said Mrs. Woodchuck. "I've come over to tell you the news
about the Muley Cow. I hope you haven't heard it already," she added,
for she dearly loved to be the first to spread a bit of gossip.

"I fear I do know it," Aunt Polly replied, as she pushed her poke bonnet
back and began to fan herself with a plantain leaf. "I suppose you've
just heard about the Muley Cow's meeting Cuffy Bear in the back
pasture."

Mrs. Woodchuck had begun to look disappointed. But now her honest face
brightened. "Oh, no! There's newer news than that," she explained. "It
hasn't anything to do with the Muley Cow's jumping the fence into the
back pasture."

"Do tell!" Aunt Polly exclaimed.

"It's something about her clothes--something new she's wearing." Mrs.
Woodchuck wasn't going to give up her news too soon. She liked to get
people well interested before she actually told them anything.

"She hasn't a pair of horns, has she!" Aunt Polly inquired eagerly.

"Oh, no! Not that! But I knew you'd like to hear the news. I knew it
would please you."

"Well, _what_ is it?" Aunt Polly demanded.

"That's a pretty poke that you have on," Mrs. Woodchuck remarked.

Aunt Polly straightened her poke bonnet. "Thank you!" she said. "But do
let me hear the news."

"Can't you guess it?" Mrs. Woodchuck asked her. "Can't you guess it, now
that I've given you a hint?"

But Aunt Polly couldn't. So at last Mrs. Woodchuck told her the news:

"The Muley Cow is wearing a poke! I knew you'd approve of it, because
you always wear one yourself."

Aunt Polly Woodchuck threw up her hands in astonishment.

"I didn't suppose the Muley Cow had sense enough to do that!" she
exclaimed.

A SLIGHT MISTAKE

Mrs. Woodchuck was glad that she had gone to Aunt Polly Woodchuck's
house to tell her the news about the Muley Cow. Aunt Polly was all in a
flutter, she was so eager to see the Muley Cow in her new poke bonnet.

"Is the poke becoming to her?" Aunt Polly asked Mrs. Woodchuck.

"I haven't set eyes on it," Mrs. Woodchuck said. "Old Mr. Crow told me
the news only this morning. I asked him to describe the poke. But all he
could say was that I'd be surprised when I saw it."

"That's the way with men folks," Aunt Polly Woodchuck declared. "They
never know anything about the styles--except that queer Mr. Frog, the
tailor."

Both ladies giggled at the mere mention of Ferdinand Frog. And while
they were busy tittering, Mrs. Woodchuck's son Billy helped himself to a
piece of carrot from Aunt Polly's store of roots and herbs.

"I must have a look at the Muley Cow this very morning," Aunt Polly told
her caller. "Won't you come with me?"

Mrs. Woodchuck said that nothing would please her more. So she ordered
Billy to scamper home.

"You'll have to wait till I put on my best poke," Aunt Polly said. "If
the Muley Cow has a new one I don't want to call on her in my second
best."

So Mrs. Woodchuck waited. And at last they set off together to find the
Muley Cow. They hadn't gone far before old Mr. Crow flapped down on a
hummock near them.

"If you're looking for the Muley Cow," he squawked, "you'll find her
down near the lane. And she's wearing her new poke, too."

They thanked him. And as soon as they had passed on Mrs. Woodchuck
remarked what a busybody he was.

"Always poking his bill into other people's affairs!" Aunt Polly
sniffed.

Still, his advice saved them a good many steps. For they found the Muley
Cow just where Mr. Crow had said they would.

But she wasn't wearing a poke bonnet at all. They noticed that as soon
as they caught sight of her.

"Perhaps it has fallen off her head and she doesn't know it," Aunt Polly
suggested.

"I'll ask her," said Mrs. Woodchuck. And she hurried up to the Muley
Cow.

"Where's your poke?" she cried. "You haven't lost it--have you?" As she
spoke she noticed a peculiar something about the Muley Cow's neck. It
was a sort of huge wooden collar, with a long stake that stuck out in
front of her.

The Muley Cow acted very grumpy.

"Don't be impertinent!" she snapped.

"Excuse us, please!" Aunt Polly Woodchuck said to the Muley Cow. "We
heard you were wearing a poke; and we wanted to see it. You know, I
always wear a poke in summer. In fact, I put on my best one before
leaving home."

The Muley Cow stared at her in a puzzled fashion. And at last the truth
dawned upon her.

"You've made a mistake," she said. "You've misunderstood. It's not a
poke bonnet that I have. It's a _poke_--this thing around my neck."

[Illustration: The Muley Cow Explains What a POKE is.

(_Page 49_)]

Well, Aunt Polly and Mrs. Woodchuck didn't know what to say. And they
felt so uncomfortable that they turned away and started off.

"Wait a moment!" the Muley Cow called to them. "How did you hear about
this poke?"

"Old Mr. Crow told me," Mrs. Woodchuck replied.

"I thought so," said the Muley Cow. "And I'd like to have a talk with
him."

THE UNRULY MULEY

After leaving the Muley Cow, who was wearing her new poke down by the
lane, Aunt Polly Woodchuck and Billy Woodchuck's mother met old Mr. Crow
again.

"Did you see her?" he asked them hoarsely.

"Yes!" they answered.

Mr. Crow gave them a sly leer. "What do you think of it?" he inquired.

They said that the poke was the strangest collar they had ever set eyes
on.

"Ha! ha!" the old black rascal laughed. "I see that you don't know what
it's for.... It's to keep the Muley Cow from jumping the fence into the
back pasture. Farmer Green put it around her neck this morning."

"Did you ever?" said Billy Woodchuck's mother.

"Well, I never!" said Aunt Polly.

"We expected to see a poke bonnet," they both told Mr. Crow.

That made him laugh again hoarsely.

"She wants to see you. The Muley Cow wants to talk with you," Aunt Polly
Woodchuck informed him.

"Is she feeling pleasant?" he asked.

"No, I shouldn't say she was," Aunt Polly replied.

"Then I'll fly over and call on her a little later," he decided. "But
first I must finish my breakfast." Thereupon he rose into the air and
sailed away toward the cornfield, leaving two very puzzled Woodchuck
ladies behind him.

If there was anything that Mr. Crow enjoyed more than another, it was
teasing some person that was angry. So he kept his word. As soon as he
had finished his breakfast he came back to the pasture and sought out
the Muley Cow.

"Good morning!" he said very politely.

"Ah, ha!" she cried. "You've been gossiping about me. You've been
telling everybody about this poke."

"It's most becoming," Mr. Crow said with a grin. "I supposed you'd like
to have the neighbors know you were wearing something new."

"Well, I don't!" she retorted. "It's bad enough to have a poke put on my
neck, at my age, without having the news spread all through Pleasant
Valley."

"You can thank yourself for the fix you're in," Mr. Crow told her
bluntly. "At your age you should have known better than to jump fences."

"How would you like it if you had to stay in this pasture day after
day?" the Muley Cow asked him.

Mr. Crow hemmed and hawed.

"How would you like it if you couldn't go into the cornfield?" she went
on.

Mr. Crow choked slightly but made no reply.

"How would you like it if I went up and down Pleasant Valley telling
everybody that you were a--"

But Mr. Crow didn't care to hear any more. He knew that the Muley Cow
was going to say something about his stealing corn.

"It's getting late," he interrupted, though the sun hadn't been up an
hour. "I must be poking along." And then he flapped himself away.

That was just like Mr. Crow. When ever he found himself getting the
worst of an argument he wouldn't talk any longer.

"_Poking_ along, indeed!" the Muley Cow snorted as she watched him
sailing toward the woods. "He can't fool me. He said that just to be
disagreeable. He was poking fun at me!"

XII

THE COWBIRDS

Some of the Muley Cow's friends were very sorry for her, when Farmer
Green put the poke around her neck to keep her from jumping the pasture
fence. It was a heavy, clumsy thing to carry about all day. Sometimes,
if she was not careful, the Muley Cow knocked her knees against it.

Of course, there were others in the herd, like the little red cow and
the big white one, that made disagreeable remarks. When they said unkind
things to her the Muley Cow pretended that the poke didn't trouble her.

"Don't you know," she said to them one day, "that it's an honor to wear
a poke? It shows that I'm the most valuable animal in the herd. Farmer
Green doesn't intend to lose me, if he can help it."

"Nonsense!" the little red cow cried. "Farmer Green makes you wear the
poke because he doesn't want you to teach the young cattle bad habits.
If he hadn't stopped you from jumping you'd soon have had all the
youngsters at it."

It was now the Muley Cow's turn to cry, "Nonsense!" But somehow she
couldn't quite say the word. She had a queer, guilty feeling. And she
walked away looking quite glum. She didn't want to talk with anybody.

After her there followed a small flock of cowbirds.

"We aren't intruding, I hope," one plump cowbird remarked with a smirk
as he settled himself near the Muley Cow's forelegs, when she stopped
to graze.

"You can always count on us as being good friends of yours," a dull gray
dame told the Muley Cow.

"When you're feeling sad you can depend on us to cheer you up," a
glossy, greenish black gentleman chimed in with a chuckle.

The Muley Cow couldn't help thinking how pleasant it was to be among
such kind companions.

"If you'll take care not to step on us we'll catch these flies that are
biting you," another offered.

"Thank you!" said the Muley Cow. "You're very good to do that for an old
lady like me."

The cowbirds all laughed harshly at that. Though the Muley Cow didn't
see any joke, she smiled in spite of herself. At least, the cowbirds
had said nothing about her poke. And that was certainly worth a smile.

In the past the Muley Cow had known plenty of cowbirds. But she had paid
little heed to them, unless it was to tell them to fly away, for they
were always hovering around a body's feet.

It wasn't long before the flock had caught every one of the flies that
had been following the Muley Cow. And when the last one had been gobbled
up--after a slight dispute as to who should have it--the cowbirds left
the Muley Cow abruptly. And they seemed to have lost all their
politeness before they went.

"They're shy--that's all," the Muley Cow thought. "They hurried away
before I could thank them."

XIII

TRUTH WILL OUT

Later in the day the Muley Cow had a chat with a song sparrow--a musical
person who had a nest cunningly hidden in the center of a bush near the
pasture fence.

"What a pleasant family those cowbirds are!" the Muley Cow happened to
remark. "They're so kind!"

The song sparrow gave her a queer look.

"Kind!" he echoed.

The Muley Cow saw at once that he did not agree with her.

"Yes!" she insisted. "They were very nice to me this morning. They
caught all the flies that were bothering me."

The song sparrow gave a slight sniff. "They were only having their
breakfast. You may be sure that they didn't catch the flies to oblige
you."

"I wish," said the Muley Cow, "you wouldn't speak rudely of my friends,
because they are very pleasant."

"Why, they're outcasts!" the song sparrow cried. "No decent bird will
have anything to do with them. They lay their eggs in our nests and we
have to bring up their lubberly children for them. If I were you I'd
drive them away next time and let the flies bite. What's your tail for,
anyhow, except to switch the flies off?"

"Really, I don't know," said the Muley Cow.

She felt somewhat foolish.

And soon afterward the song sparrow told his wife that there was always
something to learn, no matter if one were as old as the Muley Cow.

The Muley Cow couldn't quite believe what Mr. Song Sparrow had told her
about the cowbirds. But if it was true, she didn't want anything more to
do with them. And if it wasn't true, she intended to be specially
agreeable to them.

In order to find out what was what, the Muley Cow made up her mind to
ask the cowbirds a question the very next time she met them.

It wasn't long before they gathered around her again.

"We've come to rid you of flies once more," they announced as they began
to jostle one another while they snapped at the insects hovering about
the Muley Cow. And one fat cowbird remarked with a smirk that it was too
bad they hadn't brought the children along to help.

The others grinned; for the cowbird youngsters were all being cared for
by other birds who had big enough families of their own without looking
after outsiders. But they didn't know that the Muley Cow had heard any
stories about that.

"Do bring your children along with you the next time you come to the
pasture," the Muley Cow urged them. "I'm very fond of little ones."

The cowbirds tittered. They seemed to think there was a great joke
somewhere.

"Our children are too small to leave home just yet," the fat person told
the Muley Cow.

"The smaller they are the more I like them," the Muley Cow declared.
"Won't you show me where your nests are? I'd love to see the little
darlings cuddled in their beds."

The cowbirds stopped catching flies and looked uneasily at one another.
The fat one, however, was somewhat bolder than the rest. He fluttered up
and alighted right on the back of the Muley Cow.

"We don't take anybody to see our children until they leave the nests,"
he told the Muley Cow.

She knew, then, that the song sparrow had told her the truth.

"And I don't let cowbirds sit on my back--not after they're grown up!"
she snapped. As she spoke, the Muley Cow fetched the pert gentleman a
smart smack with her tail.

The blow caught him unawares and knocked him squawking upon the ground.
At once his companions began to scold the Muley Cow. And so did he--as
soon as he got his breath back. "You're a rough old thing!" he squalled.

"You're rascals--all of you!" cried the Muley Cow. "You can't fool me
any longer. I know all about you. I wonder who named you _cowbirds_, for
it's a deadly insult to me and all my family."

XIV

THE MUSKRATS' WARNING

If it hadn't been for Johnnie Green there's no knowing how long the
Muley Cow would have had to wear the wooden poke about her neck. Somehow
Johnnie Green guessed that she didn't like it. So he teased his father
to take the poke off her. And at last Farmer Green consented.

"We'll try her without it," he said. "We'll see how she behaves. We'll
see if she has learned a lesson."

It was like a holiday for the Muley Cow when she went into the pasture
without the heavy poke. For all her advanced age, she kicked up her
heels and galloped clumsily over the hummocky hillside, quite like a
frisky calf.

For just a moment or two she was tempted to jump the fence, she felt so
gay. But luckily she remembered, before it was too late, that if she
left the pasture she would probably have to wear the poke all the rest
of that summer. And she decided it was worth her while to behave
herself.

So she stopped running--for that was just a temptation to jump; and she
began to pull at choice clumps of clover with her long tongue. Then,
feeling thirsty, she went to the brook, where it flowed into the mill
pond, to get a drink.

She splashed down into the water, not caring at all because she wet her
feet. In fact, she liked the feeling of the cool water. She had stuck
her nose into the brook and had drunk several great swallows when a
squeaky sort of voice cried, "Stop that!"

The Muley Cow lifted her head and stared all around, while drops of
water trickled off her muzzle and fell back into the stream.

At first she couldn't see anybody. And then the voice called again,
"Stop that! You'll drain our pond dry if you drink so much of our
water."

Then the Muley Cow saw who was speaking. It was Paddy Muskrat. With his
wife he had crept out on some stones a little way off. And there they
stood, chattering and waving their paws at the Muley Cow.

"Go away!" Mrs. Muskrat shrieked. "We don't want you here."

Just then the Muley Cow noticed a big frog who sat on the bank of the
brook and grinned at her. "What would you do if you were I?" she asked
him.

Ferdinand Frog (for it was he) said nothing for a few seconds, but
wrinkled his low brow; for he was thinking deeply.

"I believe I'd carry a parasol if I were you," he said at last. "It's a
hot day and I believe you'd enjoy the shade."

The Muley Cow was puzzled. She couldn't see that Mr. Frog's answer had
anything to do with the case. But Paddy Muskrat exclaimed at once that
Mr. Frog had hit on the very thing.

"Go get your parasol at once!" Paddy cried. "You're liable to have a
sunstroke."

"But I haven't a parasol," she objected.

"Then borrow one from Farmer Green's wife," said Mrs. Paddy. "To be
sure, I don't believe in borrowing--as a rule. But it's different when
somebody's in danger of a sunstroke."

Now, the Muley Cow began to feel very queer. She had never had a
sunstroke; she had never even heard of one. But they sounded quite
dreadful. So she climbed quickly up the bank and went and lay down in
the shade of a great oak.

That was the best she could do. She knew that Farmer Green's wife would
never lend her a parasol.

Anyhow, the Muskrat family was satisfied. They felt that they were no
longer in danger of having their pond drained dry.

CARRYING A MESSAGE

After Paddy Muskrat and his wife talked to her about sunstrokes, the
Muley Cow tried to keep in the shade during the rest of the day.

Toward evening, who should come trotting out of the woods but Tommy Fox.
When he noticed the Muley Cow (as he soon did, for the wind told him
where she was) he turned aside to speak to her. He inquired carefully
about her health, said that he hoped she was enjoying the fine weather,
and remarked finally that he was glad he met her because it would save
him a trip to the farmyard. "That is," Tommy added, "if you don't mind
carrying a message for me."

The Muley Cow had always heard that the Fox family was terribly sly and
tricky. Still, Tommy was most polite. Really, she didn't like to say no.

He saw that she couldn't quite say yes. "It doesn't matter," he told her
carelessly. "There's the little red cow over there. I know she'll be
glad to oblige me."

That was just the thing to make the Muley Cow want to do his errand.

"I'm sure I should be delighted to accommodate you," she told Tommy Fox.
"Give me your message. And when I go home this evening I'll deliver it."

"It's for the young gobbler, Turkey Proudfoot," Tommy Fox explained.
"Please tell him that a gentleman wishes to meet him by the stone wall
to-night, as soon as it grows dark."

"Very well!" said the Muley Cow. "I'll tell Turkey Proudfoot that I saw
you and I'll give him your message."

"Oh! Please don't mention my name!" Tommy Fox begged her. "Just say, 'a
gentleman.' You see, it's to be a surprise.... You know everybody likes
surprises," he added, as he grinned at the Muley Cow in the most
innocent way.

She remembered that she had liked surprises herself when she was
younger. So she agreed to give Turkey Proudfoot the message exactly as
Tommy Fox had told it to her.

And she did. When milking time came, and Johnnie Green and old dog Spot
drove the cows home, down the long lane that led to the barn, and the
Muley Cow saw Turkey Proudfoot strutting about the farmyard, she told
him something. She told him that a slim, red gentleman with a bushy
tail and a sharp nose wanted to see him near the stone wall at
nightfall. "He has a surprise for you," she added.

The moment he heard the message Turkey Proudfoot's tail drooped and he
forgot to strut. He even shook slightly, as if something had frightened
him. And then, to the Muley Cow's astonishment, he began to gobble at
her.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself--trying to get me into trouble with
Tommy Fox!" he scolded.

The Muley Cow was still more amazed. She hadn't mentioned Tommy Fox's
name; and she couldn't understand how Turkey Proudfoot had guessed who
the gentleman was. Besides, she wondered why Turkey Proudfoot was angry.
Tommy Fox was such an agreeable person that she felt sure he must have
planned a very pleasant surprise.

It appeared that Turkey Proudfoot had quite a different notion. It was
so different that he didn't even dare to roost in the tree in front of
the barn that night, but crowded right into the henhouse. The hens made
a great fuss and ordered him out. But he simply wouldn't take the hint.

XVI

CLOVER TOPS

The Muley Cow noticed that Billy Woodchuck was making many trips back
and forth across the pasture. Watching him carefully, she saw that he
always crept under the fence and stole into the field where the clover
grew. And every time he came back again he looked plumper than before.

"That clover's not intended for you," the Muley Cow told him at last.
She thought that ought to be enough to stop him. But it made not the
slightest difference. Billy Woodchuck continued to visit the
clover-patch just as often as ever. And it seemed to the Muley Cow that
he stayed longer each time he went there.

"Something will have to be done to keep that Woodchuck boy out of our
clover," she announced to the rest of the herd. "If we don't stop him
there'll be no nice clover hay for us next winter."

"Somebody ought to put a poke on him," said the little red cow. And
everybody laughed--everybody except the Muley Cow. She saw nothing funny
in the suggestion. She thought it silly; and she said as much, too: "Who
ever heard of a Woodchuck wearing a poke about his neck?"

"Have you told Billy Woodchuck to keep out of the clover?" one of the
Muley Cow's friends inquired.

"I've dropped a hint; but it seems he can't take a hint," the Muley Cow
replied.

"Then someone will have to speak plainly to him," the friend said. And
the whole herd told the Muley Cow that she was the one to do it, because
she was the oldest cow on the farm.

So the next time that Billy Woodchuck hurried by on his way to the
clover-patch, the Muley Cow stood right in his path and stopped him.

"Go back!" she said severely. "You mustn't eat any more clover. You've
had too much of it already."

Billy Woodchuck sat up on his hind feet and stared very hard at the
Muley Cow.

But he said never a word.

"What's the matter with you?" she asked him. "Can't you speak when
you're spoken to? Have you nothing to say?"

It appeared that he had. "I was thinking," he stammered, "what a pity
it is that you lost your horns."

The Muley Cow gave a sort of snort.

"Don't be a ninny!" she cried. "I never lost my horns. I never had any
to lose. That's why they call me the Muley Cow."

Billy Woodchuck sat as still as a mouse and never took his eyes off her.
It gave the Muley Cow a queer turn to be looked at so steadily. It made
her fidget and squirm.

"Well! well!" she exclaimed. "How strangely you act! What's the trouble
with you? Are you ill?"

"No!" said Billy Woodchuck. "I was only thinking what a long face you
have."

"Nothing of the sort!" the Muley Cow spluttered. "It's my opinion that
you can't see well. There must be something wrong with your eyes. And I
haven't a doubt that the trouble is just this: You've eaten too much
clover."

XVII

NO HELP FROM SPOT

Billy Woodchuck was a great deal wiser than the Muley Cow had ever
suspected. She had thought she could frighten him. By telling him that
he couldn't see well because he had eaten too much clover, she actually
expected to keep him out of the clover-patch. So she had a great
surprise when he said to her:

"You must be mistaken. I know there's nothing the matter with my eyes,
because _I can see right through you_!"

The Muley Cow knew then that she had only been wasting words on Billy
Woodchuck. She realized that she hadn't frightened him in the least. And
she felt sure that the moment her back was turned he would scurry into
the clover-patch and nip off as many of the juicy red tops as he could
hold.

[Illustration: The Muley Cow Tries to Stop Billy Woodchuck.

(_Page 80_)]

So she turned away. And sure enough! The moment she moved aside, out of
his path, Billy Woodchuck made a bee line for the fence. He was under it
in a twinkling.

And the Muley Cow knew what was happening to the clover-tops.

"There's only one thing to do," she muttered to herself. "I'll speak to
old dog Spot about this Woodchuck youngster."

So she did, that very evening. When Spot came to drive the cows home she
told him that there was a young son of Mrs. Woodchuck who spent most of
his time in the clover-patch. "I know you'll be interested to hear the
news," she said.

Old Spot shook his head.

"It's no use," he growled. "I've known for weeks what was going on in
that field of clover. It's full of Woodchucks. But I never can catch
them. They always have a sentinel--a watcher--who whistles if I try to
surprise them."

"But I don't want you to _catch_ them," the Muley Cow explained. "I only
want you to _scare_ them. And most of all, I want you to frighten that
young Billy Woodchuck. He's the greediest of the lot."

"I could chase them home a dozen times a day and they'd always come back
again," said old Spot with a sigh.

The Muley Cow saw that she could expect little help from him. And it
made her feel a bit peevish.

"We need a good, young dog on this farm," she declared. "One that's not
old and fat and lazy!"

Now, Spot knew better than to argue with the Muley Cow. But he couldn't
help saying to her, "Let's see! You and I are just the same age, aren't
we?"

And for once the Muley Cow wished she had horns to prick somebody with.

XVIII

ONE APPLE TOO MANY

It was a long time since the Muley Cow had jumped the pasture fence. By
making her wear a poke for a while Farmer Green had taught her to behave
herself. But there came a day, finally, when she made up her mind that
just one more jump wouldn't do any great harm.

There had been a strong wind during the night, which had whipped a good
many red apples off the trees. It was when the Muley Cow smelled them
that she decided that she would jump the fence. She wanted to get into
the orchard before anybody could pick up the apples and take them to
the cider mill. So over the fence went the Muley Cow.

She had a pleasant time eating apples--until something happened to put
an end to her feast. Something kept the Muley Cow from swallowing
another mouthful.

* * * * *

It was lucky that Johnnie Green felt hungry. He went to the orchard
himself to fill his pockets with apples, when he saw the Muley Cow--his
own Muley Cow--acting in the strangest manner. She was staggering about
among the trees and making the queerest sounds.

Johnnie Green ran quickly to the barn and called to his father. "There's
something wrong with the Muley Cow!"

"Where is she?" his father asked him.

"In the orchard!" Johnnie said.

Farmer Green caught up a whip--a whip with a long lash and a limber
stock. With Johnnie following him he ran out of the barn, across the
yard, and into the orchard. "Don't whip her for jumping the fence!"
Johnnie pleaded.

His father never said a word.

"I wish I hadn't told him," Johnnie Green panted. He was doing his best
to keep up with his father. He thought he would rather take a whipping
himself than have the Muley Cow get one. But he didn't know how he could
ever make his father feel the same way. He had noticed that his father
reached for the whip as if he fully intended to use it.

When Farmer Green reached the Muley Cow he did a queer thing. At least
it seemed queer to Johnnie. Instead of whipping the Muley Cow, his
father ran the whip-stock down her throat!

"What's the matter?" Johnnie asked. "Why do you do that?"

"She's choked over an apple," his father explained, "and I'm trying to
shove it along."

Well, it wasn't a great while before the Muley Cow seemed to be quite
herself again.

"Rough treatment!" Farmer Green remarked. "But it certainly fixed her."

"Why did she choke?" Johnnie wanted to know.

"She tried to swallow a whole apple," said his father. "Whenever you
feed such things as apples or potatoes to a cow you must always chop
them into pieces.... Now drive the old cow to the barn," he told
Johnnie. "She'll have to wear a poke again."

When the Muley Cow heard that she wondered if she hadn't been very
foolish.

XIX

A QUESTION OF LUCK

"How lucky some people are!" said old Mr. Crow. He was talking to the
Muley Cow, in the pasture. And though she didn't specially care for his
company, she was curious enough to ask him what he meant.

"I was just thinking," Mr. Crow explained, "I was just thinking what a
hard life I lead, and how I have to hunt around to find whatever I can
to eat. In winter it's usually poor pickings for me. But some people
have their meals set right under their noses. They don't even need to
stir."

"I suppose," the Muley Cow ventured, "you're thinking about us cows."

"I am," he admitted. "You have such an easy time that often I actually
wish I had been born a cow myself."

The Muley Cow shook her head.

"That would have been impossible," she murmured.

Old Mr. Crow flared up at once.

"I'd like to know why!" he shrieked. He was always ill-mannered when he
was angry.

The Muley Cow stared at him coolly. She was a calm person, generally.

"You would have had to be a calf, in the beginning," she explained.

"Of course! Of course!" Mr. Crow spluttered. "Of course I knew that. You
needn't bother to tell me things that everybody knows."

"Being a cow is not all fun, I assure you," the Muley Cow continued.
"The trouble is, you can't go and come as you please. You have to do
about as you're told. And I'm sure you wouldn't like that, Mr. Crow."

"Perhaps not!" he admitted somewhat grudgingly. "But they're not always
looking for you with a gun," he croaked. "And you always have plenty of
company."

"Too much, sometimes," said the Muley Cow. "You can get off by yourself
whenever you want to. But how's a cow to get away from the herd?"

"She can jump the fence," said old Mr. Crow with a wicked gleam in his
eye.

"Yes! yes!" the Muley Cow agreed hastily. "But we won't discuss that.
And remember--a cow couldn't go miles and miles around Blue Mountain in
just a few minutes, as you can."

The old gentleman couldn't see that there was anything specially
pleasant in making long flights. "When I travel, it's generally because
I'm hungry," he said. "It's because I'd starve if I stood still. And in
winter I have to step lively, I can tell you. Food's scarce then, for us
crows. We have to snatch a morsel wherever we can find it, while you fat
cows are having the best of things in a warm barn.... Yes!" he declared
somewhat sourly. "You're enjoying the finest of food--out of season,
too."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said the Muley Cow.

"Corn!" Mr. Crow snapped. "Doesn't Farmer Green fill the silo with corn
in the summer? And doesn't he feed it to you in the winter? Deny it if
you can!"

GOOD CORN WASTED

Mr. Crow had been talking about the corn in the silo, which Farmer Green
fed to the herd during the winter. And the Muley Cow could see that he
was growing angrier every moment.

"Well! well!" she exclaimed. "You don't object--do you?--if Farmer Green
feeds us corn that he raised himself."

"Certainly I do!" Mr. Crow fumed. "It's not fair. He doesn't store away
any nice sweet corn in a silo for me."

"Ah! You wouldn't like it if he did," the Muley Cow told him.

"Why not?" Mr. Crow asked. "Why shouldn't I enjoy nice sweet corn in
the dead of winter?"

"Because--" said the Muley Cow--"because the corn from the silo isn't
sweet. It's sour, Mr. Crow. And you wouldn't care for it at all."

The old gentleman looked surprised.

"How sour is it?" he inquired.

"I'd hate to say," the Muley Cow replied.

"I insist on your telling me," he croaked. "I insist; for I've a right
to know."

"Well," said the Muley Cow, "the corn from the silo is not quite as sour
as your temper, Mr. Crow. And that's all I can say."

That seemed to be enough for him. He asked no more questions, but flew
off in a terrible rage. And he told all his friends that it was a shame,
the way Farmer Green ruined the corn by putting it in the silo. "It
turns sour," he explained. "And Farmer Green has to feed it to the cows,
because nobody else will eat it."

All the crows in Pleasant Valley agreed that it was a pity to spoil good
corn like that. They even had a meeting--a crow caucus--in the pine
woods, they were so upset.

"What can we do about it?" they asked one another.

Nobody could supply an answer.

"If we could eat all the corn before it's cut, we could save it--" old
Mr. Crow began.

But the rest shouted him down. They knew _that_ couldn't be done.

"There's your friend, the Muley Cow," said one of them to old Mr. Crow.
"Why don't you tell her that Farmer Green's not treating the herd well?
He gives them spoiled corn. If they'd refuse to eat it, it would serve
him right."

"A good idea!" said everybody else--except old Mr. Crow. As for him, he
made a wry face.

"I don't enjoy talking with the Muley Cow," he objected. "Besides, a
talk with her would be of no use. She's one of the most stupid people I
ever saw."

After a good deal of teasing by his cronies Mr. Crow at last consented
to speak to the Muley Cow once more. And flying to the pasture, he
flapped down near her.

"If I had been born a calf--" Mr. Crow began. But he got no further than
that before the Muley Cow broke in upon his words.

"If you hadn't been born a rascal everybody would have a better opinion
of you," she told him.

He began squawking at her at the top of his lungs.

But the Muley Cow didn't care. She continued to twist her tongue around
mouthfuls of grass quite as if Mr. Crow had never been born at all.

And that was the end of that.

[Illustration: The Muley Cow Upsets Jack O'Lantern.

(_Page 100_)]

XXI

A BRAVE DEED

Nobody had ever supposed that the Muley Cow had much courage. In many
ways she seemed quite timid. Perhaps if she had had horns she would have
been different. Anyhow, whenever anything startled her the only thing
she ever did was to run away, if she could. If old dog Spot barked at
her heels the Muley Cow always hurried to get out of reach of his
snapping jaws. If Farmer Green shouted at her she was more than likely
to mind him. And usually she even did as Johnnie Green told her to do.
In all her life she was never known to fight. Yet there came a time
when many of her friends claimed that she was very brave indeed.

On a crisp fall evening a terrible, grinning fellow known as Jack
O'Lantern appeared about the farmhouse. Johnnie Green, at least, did not
fear him, in spite of his flaming features. For Johnnie and Jack spent
the whole evening together. Whenever the clatter of a wagon sounded from
the road, the two rushed out to the gate, to be there when the wagon
passed.

It was said that strangers seemed to be frightened. Anyhow, shouts were
heard. Old dog Spot did a great deal of barking. And Miss Kitty Cat hid
under the woodpile. Queer tales travelled like wildfire that night. All
the after-dark prowlers knew about Jack O'Lantern. And some of them
saw--and feared--him.

After Johnnie Green went to bed Jack sat a long time on a fence post and
grinned at the black night. And nobody--except Benjamin Bat--dared go
near him.

After a while Jack O'Lantern vanished. His gleaming eyes no longer
flashed, his horrid mouth no longer grinned. And nobody cared to go near
the place where he had sat, to see what had become of him.

At dawn Miss Kitty Cat crawled out of the woodpile to do a little early
hunting. And she claimed that at that hour Jack O'Lantern still sat on
the fence post. She saw the back of his head--so she said. And that was
enough for her. She did not look at him a second time. And yet--when
broad daylight came Jack O'Lantern had vanished completely.

It was a great mystery. And when at last the Muley Cow spoke up and said
that she had done for Jack O'Lantern, nobody could believe her.

When Miss Kitty Cat heard the news she went at once to the pasture. And
going straight to the Muley Cow she made bold to ask her a question: "Is
it true that you made away with that dreadful Jack O'Lantern?"

"Yes!" the Muley Cow replied. "I was the first one out of the barn this
morning. And I knocked Jack O'Lantern off the fence post."

"What happened then?" Miss Kitty Cat wanted to know, as she stared
round-eyed at the Muley Cow.

"He broke into a dozen pieces."

Miss Kitty Cat was suspicious. "If that's so, where are the pieces?"

"I ate them," the Muley Cow explained.

And everybody said she was very, very brave. And everybody shuddered at
the Muley Cow's next remark. "The pieces tasted very good," she said.
"It was as fine pumpkin as I ever ate."

XXII

TRYING TO BE FIERCE

The Muley Cow rather enjoyed the talk she caused because she had eaten
Jack O'Lantern. And feeling that any one so brave ought not to appear
too meek and mild, she sometimes tried to look as fierce as she could.

Somehow she could never manage a frown when old dog Spot was about. But
if she came across Master Meadow Mouse all alone in the pasture she
never failed to bellow at him and ask him in a gruff tone what he was
doing there.

When she first spoke to him like that Master Meadow Mouse was startled.

"I'm only taking a stroll," he piped.

The Muley Cow glared at him for a few moments. She wanted to act
ferocious; but unfortunately she could think of nothing more to say. And
not wishing to seem at a loss for words, she began to cough.

Before she had stopped coughing Master Meadow Mouse ran away. And that
was exactly what the Muley Cow had hoped he would do. It would have been
very awkward for her if he had waited until she had stopped coughing.
For try as she would, she could think of nothing ferocious to say.

The next time the Muley Cow met Master Meadow Mouse she bellowed at him
again and stamped her feet at him, so that the ground trembled beneath
him. He was too frightened to run. So he stood still and shivered. And
that made the Muley Cow quite uncomfortable. Master Meadow Mouse stared
at her while he panted with fright. And again the Muley Cow could think
of nothing but pleasant remarks to make.

So she began coughing once more. But to her great dismay Master Meadow
Mouse didn't run away. And since she couldn't cough forever, but had to
stop sometime, she paused to get her breath. And then she asked him a
question.

"Can't you see I'm very fierce?" she inquired. "Why don't you run away?"

"I was waiting to see what happened," said Master Meadow Mouse
pleasantly. "I thought maybe you'd choke."

Well, the Muley Cow was so surprised she didn't know what to say to
that. And to hide her confusion she started coughing again.

Again she stopped, for of course she soon had to. Master Meadow Mouse
had waited hopefully, watching her closely to see if she were not going
to choke that time, anyhow. And when she didn't he was quite
disappointed.

"Try it again--will you?" he besought the Muley Cow.

"What!" she bawled. "Do you _want_ me to choke?"

"Yes!" he told her. "I thought that if you did, Farmer Green would come
and run a whip-stock down your throat. And that would be great fun to
watch, you know."

The Muley Cow gasped. She saw that Master Meadow Mouse knew all about
her choking over an apple, in the orchard. And that was something she
never liked to talk about. To tell the truth, she was somewhat ashamed
of the whole affair. "Go away!" she bade Master Meadow Mouse. "Go away!
I don't want anything to do with you." But her voice wasn't the least
bit fierce. Nor was he the least bit frightened.

In the end it was the Muley Cow herself that ran off. And Master Meadow
Mouse even followed her all the way to the bars.

The Muley Cow was so ashamed to have been chased by a Meadow Mouse (and
a young one, at that!) that she scarcely dared look anybody in the face
until milking-time.

XXIII

THE VOW OF A COW

All the cows in the barn were much upset. They had heard some news that
didn't please them. Farmer Green was going to buy a milking machine!

"He'll never use it on me," the Muley Cow declared. "None of my family
has ever been milked by a machine; and I don't intend to be the first."

Her companions all felt just as she did. If Farmer Green could have
listened to their mutterings and rumblings and murmurings he might not
have dared bring home any milking machine. But he never dreamed that the
whole herd was _against_ one. As for his son Johnnie--and even the
hired man--they had said all along that they thought a milking machine
would be a fine thing to have.

The hired man had milked cows all his life--millions of them, so he
said! And he told Johnnie that he no longer found any fun in turning out
of a warm bed on a cold winter's morning long before daylight, to milk
cows.

Now, Johnnie Green had only learned to milk during the summer before.
But strange to say, he had already begun to feel somewhat as the hired
man did. Milking was not half the sport that it was in the beginning.

The great day came at last when the milking machine arrived. There was
an unusual bustle in the cow barn while it was being set up and tested.
Since it was winter, the cows had little else to do but watch what was
going on--and grumble. They all felt just as they had when they first
heard about the new machine--that is, all but the little red cow, who
always stood next to the Muley Cow when they were in the barn.

To everybody's surprise the little red cow announced that she was glad
the milking machine had come. "You're behind the times," she said to the
Muley Cow. "You prefer to be milked by hand, the old-fashioned way. But
I like new-fangled things. And folks say that milking machines are very
stylish this winter."

For a few moments the Muley Cow gazed, open-mouthed, at the little red
cow. "You don't mean to say," she gasped at last, as soon as she could
speak, "you don't mean to say you're going to let them hitch that
machine to you, do you?"

"Certainly I am!" cried the little red cow. "If I want to be
fashionable I'm sure it's nobody else's affair."

The Muley Cow turned to the big white cow, who stood listening eagerly
to every word.

"We'd better ask Farmer Green to move us," the Muley Cow said to her.
"This neighborhood is getting too fashionable for us."

"Not for me!" the big white cow replied. "I quite agree with the lady on
the other side of you. And we really ought to speak to Farmer Green
about changing our places--she and I. For it's not half stylish enough
for us here."

When she saw how both the little red cow and the big white one felt
about the milking machine, more than ever the Muley Cow vowed that she
would never be milked by it. No, never!

XXIV

HUMBUGS

The new milking machine was all ready to use.

"Which one are you going to try it on first?" the hired man asked Farmer
Green.

"Let's hitch it to the little red cow," said Johnnie Green's father.

The little red cow gave the Muley Cow a sly nudge. "Did you hear that?"
she asked. "Farmer Green knows who's fashionable. He chooses me to be
first! And it's a great honor."

"Nonsense!" said the Muley Cow. "He picked you because you're the
smallest cow on the farm. He thinks you wouldn't dare object to the
milking machine.... Just you wait till they try it on me! I'll kick!
I'll bellow! I'll switch my tail at them!"

The little red cow made no reply. Already Farmer Green and the hired man
had stepped up beside her. And they were just about to fasten the
milking machine to her when the big white cow let out a frightened bawl.

"What's the matter?" the little red cow asked her.

"I was just thinking," she stammered, "what a terrible thing it would be
if they couldn't stop the machine!"

That was an awful thought. Such an idea had never entered the red cow's
head. And the moment she heard it she no longer wanted to be
fashionable. She was so alarmed that she lashed out with both hind feet
in a most unladylike manner. And she plunged and roared and made such a
fuss that Farmer Green and the hired man left her in disgust.

"She hasn't the brains of a hen," Farmer Green declared.

"Shall we try the big white cow?" the hired man asked him.

"No! She's a numskull too," said Farmer Green. He was feeling somewhat
cross, for the little red cow had given him a smart kick. "Let's take
the old Muley. She knows something, even if she is a jumper."

Well, what could the Muley Cow do? She had declared to all her friends
that she would _not_ be milked by any new-fangled milking machine. But
when Farmer Green spoke so pleasantly about her she hadn't the heart to
disappoint him. So she stood quite still for a few minutes. And soon
she had the honor of being the first cow in the herd to be milked the
fashionable new way.

The little red cow was frightfully jealous of her. And she called the
Muley Cow "an old humbug."

"You said you wouldn't let them do it," the little red cow spluttered.
"And here you are, with the honor of being first!"

"And you--" the Muley Cow retorted--"you said you were glad the milking
machine had come. But you certainly didn't act pleased when they offered
to use it on you.... Speaking of humbugs, I should say you were one
yourself."

For once the little red cow had nothing to say. The herd agreed that it
was the _first_ dispute in which she hadn't had the final word. And to
their surprise, ever afterward the little red cow was meek and mild. She
even let Farmer Green milk her with the milking machine. And there was
only one thing that ever vexed her. She never could bear to hear the
word _humbug_.

Somehow the whole herd became gentler. At last Farmer Green announced
proudly, right in their hearing, that they were giving more milk.

"It's the milking machine," he told the hired man. "The cows like it."

But the Muley Cow knew better than that. She was too polite to say as
much to Farmer Green. She wouldn't dream of disputing what he said,
though she knew well enough that he had not guessed the secret. Being
only a man, he had not noticed how fashionable the cows had become. And
since no cow can be a fine, fashionable dame if she is rude, noisy and
quarrelsome, they simply had to be on their best behavior all the time.

And they were especially particular about two matters. They
ate--neatly--every bit of fodder that was set before them, and gave all
the milk they could in return for it.

THE END

SLUMBER-TOWN TALES

(Trademark Registered.)

By ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY

AUTHOR OF THE
SLEEPY-TIME TALES and TUCK-ME-IN TALES

=Colored Wrapper and Text Illustrations Drawn by HARRY L. SMITH=

These are fascinating stories of farmyard folk for boys and girls from
about four to eight years of age.

THE TALE OF MISS KITTY CAT

When Mrs. Rat saw Miss Kitty Cat washing her face, she knew it meant
rain. And she wouldn't let her husband leave home without his umbrella.

THE TALE OF HENRIETTA HEN

Henrietta Hen was an empty-headed creature with strange notions. She
never laid an egg without making a great fuss about it.

THE TALE OF THE MULEY COW

The Muley Cow belonged to Johnnie Green. He often milked her; and she
seldom put her foot in the milk pail.

THE TALE OF TURKEY PROUDFOOT

A vain fellow was Turkey Proudfoot. He loved to strut about the farmyard
and spread his tail, which he claimed was the most elegant one in the
neighborhood.

THE TALE OF PONY TWINKLEHEELS

Pony Twinkleheels trotted so fast you could scarcely tell one foot from
another. Everybody had to step lively to get out of his way.

THE TALE OF OLD DOG SPOT

Old dog Spot had a keen nose. He was always ready to chase the wild
folk. And he always looked foolish when they got away from him.

THE TALE OF GRUNTY PIG

Grunty pig was a great trial to his mother. He found it hard not to put
his feet right in the feeding trough at meal time.

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

TUCK-ME-IN TALES

(Trademark Registered)

By ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY

AUTHOR OF THE
SLEEPY-TIME TALES and SLUMBER-TOWN TALES

=Colored Wrapper and Text Illustrations Drawn by HARRY L. SMITH=

A delightful and unusual series of bird and insect stories for boys and
girls from three to eight years old, or thereabouts.

THE TALE OF JOLLY ROBIN

Jolly Robin spreads happiness everywhere with his merry song.

THE TALE OF OLD MR. CROW

A wise bird was Mr. Crow. He'd laugh when any one tried to catch him.

THE TALE OF SOLOMON OWL

Solomon Owl looked so solemn that many people thought he knew
everything.

THE TALE OF JASPER JAY

Jasper Jay was very mischievous. But many of his neighbors liked him.

THE TALE OF RUSTY WREN

Rusty Wren fought bravely to keep all strangers out of his house.

THE TALE OF DADDY LONG-LEGS

Daddy Long-Legs could point in all directions at once--with his
different legs.

THE TALE OF KIDDIE KATYDID

He was a musical person and chanted all night during the autumn.

THE TALE OF BETSY BUTTERFLY

Betsy spent most of her time among the flowers.

THE TALE OF BUSTER BUMBLEBEE

Buster was clumsy and blundering, but was known far and wide.

THE TALE OF FREDDIE FIREFLY

Freddie had great sport dancing in the meadow and flashing his light.

THE TALE OF BOBBY BOBOLINK

Bobby had a wonderful voice and loved to sing.

THE TALE OF CHIRPY CRICKET

Chirpy loved to stroll about after dark and "chirp."

THE TALE OF MRS. LADYBUG

Mrs. Ladybug loved to find out what her neighbors were doing and to give
them advice.

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Tale of the The Muley Cow - Slumber-Town Tales" ***

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