Tall Tales

Well now, one winter it was so cold that all the geese flew backward and all the fish moved south and even the snow turned blue. Late at night, it got so frigid that all spoken words froze solid afore they could be heard. People had to wait until sunup to find out what folks were talking about the night before.
Paul Bunyan went out walking in the woods one day during that Winter of the Blue Snow. He was knee-deep in blue snow when he heard a funny sound between a bleat and a snort. Looking down, he saw a teeny-tiny baby blue ox jest a hopping about in the snow and snorting with rage on account of he was too short to see over the drifts.
Paul Bunyan laughed when he saw the spunky little critter and took the little blue mite home with him. He warmed the little ox up by the fire and the little fellow fluffed up and dried out, but he remained as blue as the snow that had stained him in the first place. So Paul named him Babe the Blue Ox.
Well, any creature raised in Paul Bunyan's camp tended to grow to massive proportions, and Babe was no exception. Folks that stared at him for five minutes could see him growing right before their eyes. He grew so big that 42 axe handles plus a plug of tobacco could fit between his eyes and it took a murder of crows a whole day to fly from one horn to the other. The laundryman used his horns to hang up all the camp laundry, which would dry lickety-split because of all the wind blowing around at that height.
Whenever he got an itch, Babe the Blue Ox had to find a cliff to rub against, 'cause whenever he tried to rub against a tree it fell over and begged for mercy. To whet his appetite, Babe would chew up thirty bales of hay, wire and all. It took six men with picaroons to get all the wire out of Babe's teeth after his morning snack. Right after that he'd eat a ton of grain for lunch and then come pestering around the cook - Sourdough Sam - begging for another snack.
Babe the Blue Ox was a great help around Paul Bunyan's logging camp. He could pull anything that had two ends, so Paul often used him to straighten out the pesky, twisted logging roads. By the time Babe had pulled the twists and kinks out of all the roads leading to the lumber camp, there was twenty miles of extra road left flopping about with nowhere to go. So Paul rolled them up and used them to lay a new road into new timberland.
Paul also used Babe the Blue Ox to pull the heavy tank wagon which was used to coat the newly-straightened lumber roads with ice in the winter, until one day the tank sprang a leak that trickled south and became the Mississippi River. After that, Babe stuck to hauling logs. Only he hated working in the summertime, so Paul had to paint the logging roads white after the spring thaw so that Babe would keep working through the summer.
One summer, as Babe the Blue Ox was hauling a load of logs down the white-washed road and dreaming of the days when the winter would feel cold again and the logs would slide easier on the "ice", he glanced over the top of the mountain and caught a glimpse of a pretty yeller calf grazing in a field. Well, he twisted out of his harness lickety-split and stepped over the mountain to introduce himself. It was love at first sight, and Paul had to abandon his load and buy Bessie the Yeller Cow from the farmer before Babe would do any more hauling.
Bessie the Yeller Cow grew to the massive, yet dainty proportions that were suitable for the mate of Babe the Blue Ox. She had long yellow eyelashes that tickled the lumberjacks standing on the other end of camp each time she blinked. She produced all the dairy products for the lumber camp. Each day, Sourdough Sam made enough butter from her cream to grease the giant pancake griddle and sometimes there was enough left over to butter the toast!
The only bone of contention between Bessie and Babe was the weather. Babe loved the ice and snow and Bessie loved warm summer days. One winter, Bessie grew so thin and pale that Paul Bunyan asked his clerk Johnny Inkslinger to make her a pair of green goggles so she would think it was summer. After that, Bessie grew happy and fat again, and produced so much butter that Paul Bunyan used the leftovers to grease the whitewashed lumber roads in summer. With the roads so slick all year round, hauling logs became much easier for Babe the Blue Ox, and so Babe eventually came to like summer almost as much as Bessie.


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One day, Brer Rabbit and Brer Fox and Brer Coon and Brer Bear and a lot of other animals decided to work together to plant a garden full of corn for roasting. They started early in the morning and raked and dug and raked some more, breaking up the hard ground so it would be ready for planting. It was a hot day, and Brer Rabbit got tired mighty quick. But he kept toting off the brush and clearing away the debris 'cause he didn't want no one to call him lazy.
Then Brer Rabbit got an idea. "Ow!" he shouted as loudly as he could. "I got me a briar in my hand!" He waved a paw and stuck it into his mouth. The other critters told him he'd better pull out the briar and wash his hand afore it got infected. That was just what Brer Rabbit wanted to hear. He hurried off, looking for a shady spot to take a quick nap. A little ways down the road, he found an old well with a couple of buckets hanging inside it, one at the top, and one down at the bottom.
"That looks like a mighty cool place to take a nap," Brer Rabbit said, and hopped right into the bucket.
Well, Brer Rabbit was mighty heavy - much heavier than the bucket full of water laying at the bottom. When he jumped into the empty bucket, it plummeted right down to the bottom of the well. Brer Rabbit hung onto the sides for dear life as the second bucket whipped passed him, splashing water all over him on its way to the top. He had never been so scared in his life.
Brer Rabbit's bucket landed with a smack in the water and bobbed up and down. Brer Rabbit was afraid to move, in case the bucket tipped over and landed him in the water. He lay in the bottom of the bucket and shook and shivered with fright, wondering what would happen next.
Now Brer Fox had been watching Brer Rabbit all morning. He knew right away that Brer Rabbit didn't have a briar in his paw and wondered what that rascal was up to. When Brer Rabbit snuck off, Brer Fox followed him and saw him jump into the bucket and disappear down the well.
Brer Fox was puzzled. Why would Brer Rabbit go into the well? Then he thought: "I bet he has some money hidden away down there and has gone to check up on it." Brer Fox crept up to the well, listening closely to see if he could hear anything. He didn't hear nothing. He peered down into the well, but all was dark and quiet, on account of Brer Rabbit holding so still so the bucket wouldn't tip him into the water.
Finally, Brer Fox shouted down into the well: "Brer Rabbit, what you doing down there?"
Brer Rabbit perked up at once, realizing that this might be his chance to get out of the well.
"I'm a fishing down here, Brer Fox," says he. "I thought I'd surprise everyone with a mess of fresh fish for lunch. There's some real nice fish down here."
"How many fish are there?" asked Brer Fox skeptically, sure that the rascally rabbit was really counting his gold.
"Scores and scores!" cried Brer Rabbit. "Why don't you come on down and help me carry them out?"
Well, that was the invitation Brer Fox was waiting for. He was going to go down into that well and get him some of Brer Rabbit's gold.
"How do I get down there?" asked Brer Fox.
Brer Rabbit grinned. Brer Fox was much heavier than he was. If Brer Fox jumped into the empty bucket at the top, then Brer Rabbit's bucket would go up, and Brer Fox's bucket would go down! So he said: "Jest jump into the bucket, Brer Fox."
Well, Brer Fox jumped into the empty bucket, and down it plummeted into the dark well. He passed Brer Rabbit about halfway down. Brer Rabbit was clinging to the sides of the bucket with all his might 'cause it was moving so fast. "Goodbye Brer Fox," he shouted as he rose. "Like the saying goes, some folks go up, and some go down! You should make it to the bottom all safe and sound."
Brer Rabbit jumped out of the well and ran back to the garden patch to tell the other critters that Brer Fox was down in the well muddying up the waters. Then he danced back to the well and shouted down to Brer Fox: "There's a hunting man coming along to get a drink o' water, Brer Fox. When he hauls you up, you'd best run away as fast as you can!"
Then Brer Rabbit went back to the garden patch. When the thirsty hunter hauled up the bucket full of water, a wet and shaky Brer Fox sprang out and ran away before the hunter could grab for his gun.
An hour later, Brer Fox and Brer Rabbit were both back in the garden, digging and hauling away debris and acting like nothing had happened. Except every once in a while, Brer Fox would look sideways at Brer Rabbit and grin, and the rascally rabbit would start to laugh and laugh 'cause both of them had looked so silly plummeting up and down in that ol' dark well.

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Now Brer Rabbit was skipping down the road one day heading for his home in the briar patch when he spotted Sis Cow grazing in the field. It was a mighty hot day and Brer Rabbit was thirsty. Some milk would be real fine on such a warm afternoon, but Sis Cow always refused to let Brer Rabbit milk her when he asked. So Brer Rabbit thought up a plan.
"Howdy Sis Cow," said Brer Rabbit, walking up to her in the field.

"Howdy yourself, Brer Rabbit," said Sis Cow. "How are your folks?"
"Fair to middling," said Brer Rabbit. "How is Brer Bull?"
"So-so," replied Sis Cow.
"I'm wondering if you could help me out," Brer Rabbit said to Sis Cow. "I'd like to get some persimmons down out of that tree, but it's too high for me to climb." He pointed over to a nearby persimmon tree.
"I ain't no good at climbing myself," said Sis Cow dubiously.
"I don't need for you to climb," said Brer Rabbit. "Just butt your head against the tree a few times, and the persimmons will all fall down."
Sis Cow considered this a moment, and then she agreed. Sis Cow backed up a bit and ran at the tree with her horns down. BANG! She butted the tree as hard as she could. But the persimmons were still green and none of them fell down. So Sis Cow backed up again and ran at the tree with her horns down. SMACK! She butted the tree as hard as she could. And her large horns got stuck in the tree. She pulled and tugged, but her horns were held fast.
"Help me out, Brer Rabbit," Sis Cow pleaded.
"I can't climb up that high," said Brer Rabbit. "But I'll run and fetch Brer Bull."
So saying, the rascally Brer Rabbit ran home to fetch his Missus and all of the kids. They brought a mighty big pail to the field and they milked the trapped Sis Cow until not a drop of milk was left. Sis Cow was pretty sore at Brer Rabbit. She kept pulling and tugging, but she couldn't get free.
"I'll come back tomorrow for more milk," Brer Rabbit said. "Seeing as you're probably stuck 'til daybreak."
Brer Rabbit and his family left the field with their big pail of milk, leaving Sis Cow trapped in the tree. Well, Sis Cow, she tugged and tugged, trying to free her horns from the tree. It took her near 'til morning, but finally she broke loose. Once she was free, she had a quick graze of the green grass to calm herself down. As she ate, she made a plan to revenge herself on Brer Rabbit for his nasty trick
As soon as it was daybreak, Sis Cow put her head down and stuck her horns back into the holes she had made in the tree, pretending she was still stuck. Now Brer Rabbit had come early to the field and had seen Sis Cow grazing as free as you please, so he knew she was up to something when she put her horns back in the tree. He decided to play along with her game for a while to see what she was up to.
Quick as a wink, Brer Rabbit went back down the road and came clippity-lippity, hippity-hoppity down the road, singing as loud as you please. "How are you feeling this morning, Sis Cow?" asked Brer Rabbit when he reached the field.
"Poorly, Brer Rabbit," said Sis Cow slyly. "I've been stuck here all night. But if you grab my tail, you can help pull me out."
Oh ho, thought Brer Rabbit to himself. She means to trample me. Aloud he said: "I'm a puny ol' man Sis Cow. If I pull your tail, I might get crushed. So this is as close to you as I'm going to get!"
Well, Sis Cow was furious that her plan hadn't work. She pulled her horns out of the tree lickety-split and started chasing that rascally Brer Rabbit down the road.
Brer Rabbit ran as fast as lightning. He reached the Briar Patch well ahead of Sis Cow and threw himself into the brambles. He watched Sis Cow sail passed his hiding spot. Then she stopped because her quarry had disappeared. She looked around, trying to locate him.
Brer Rabbit chuckled to himself. He folded back his long ears, made his eyes extra wide, and then peered out of a shady corner of the Briar Patch, pretending to be Brer Big Eyes. "What are you doing Sis Cow?" he asked in a high-pitched voice quite unlike his own.
"I'm looking for Brer Rabbit, Brer Big Eyes," said Sis Cow, who did not recognize the trickster rabbit in the dim light of dawn.
"He jest ran passed lickety-split," Brer Rabbit lied.
That was all Sis Cow needed to hear. She gave a bellow of rage, lowered her horns, and ran on down the road.
Brer Rabbit, he just laughed and laughed, rolling about among the briars. He had fooled Brer Fox and Brer Buzzard in the past, and now he had fooled Sis Cow. He was a real rascal, no mistake!
Humming happily to himself, Brer Rabbit went home to have a big drink of milk, courtesy of Sis Cow.

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It happened in Georgia not long ago, that a farmer and his wife decided to sleep late, like the rich folk do. It was a beautiful Sunday morning, the kind that brings all God's creatures out to play. But not these farm folk. No, they just slept and slept and slept.
The crows were gathered in a large oak tree, having a big morning meeting. They noticed that there was nobody stirring around the house, and that the corn was ripe in the field. So they adjourned their meeting mighty quick and flew over to the field to eat some corn.

"Caw-n, caw-n," they cackled excitedly.
The old rooster woke up to their activities and started to crow excitedly to the sleeping family. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!"
The farmer and his wife just kept sleeping, and the crows kept eating the corn.
"Caw-n, caw-n," they called.
"The crows are in the corn! The crows are in the corn!" The rooster cock-a-doodle-dooed with all his might.
The farmer kept snoring, and his wife just rolled over and pulled the pillow over her head.
The rooster was frantic. He tried once more: "The crows are in the corn. They're pulling up the corn!"
The farmer and his wife kept right on sleeping. And the crow's kept right on eating.
The rooster quit crowing in disgust. Nothing would wake the farmer and his wife.
The old turkey came strolling into the yard and watched the proceedings. Finally he said to the rooster: "The corns all et up, all et up, all et up."
When the farmer and his wife finally rolled out of bed, they found that the corn was all gone. That is why in Georgia we say "the crows are in the corn" when it is time to get up.

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One winter, it was so cold that the dawn froze solid. The sun got caught between two ice blocks, and the earth iced up so much that it couldn't turn. The first rays of sunlight froze halfway over the mountain tops. They looked like yellow icicles dripping towards the ground.

Now Davy Crockett was headed home after a successful night hunting when the dawn froze up so solid. Being a smart man, he knew he had to do something quick or the earth was a goner. He had a freshly killed bear on his back, so he whipped it off, climbed right up on those rays of sunlight and began beating the hot bear carcass against the ice blocks which were squashing the sun. Soon a gush of hot oil burst out of the bear and it melted the ice. Davy gave the sun a good hard kick to get it started, and the sun's heat unfroze the earth and started it spinning again. So Davy lit his pipe on the sun, shouldered the bear, slid himself down the sun rays before they melted and took a bit of sunrise home in his pocket.


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Well now, there was a chap that got real sick of working in the big city. One day, he quit his job, packed up his wife and kiddies, and hi-tailed it out to Kansas to become a farmer. Bought a big parcel of land with a grand old barn and some fields just ready to plow and plant.
Now, being a bit of a greenhorn, the poor fellow didn't know where to start with that there farm. His wife suggested that they get a mule to pull the plow for them, and the greenhorn thought this was as splendid idea. He set off down the road to visit their neighbor and ask him where he could buy a mule.
Well, that neighbor was a bit of a wag. He'd sized up his new neighbor as a greenhorn in about five seconds and decided to have a bit of fun with him.
"Well, you could advertise for a mule in the local paper," the neighbor said. "But if you want to do it the Kansas way, well then you should get yourself a mule egg and hatch your own. That way you can train the mule up from birth to do exactly as you want."
The greenhorn's eyes got real wide. "I didn't know mules hatched from eggs," he said excitedly. "Where do I get one?"
"It just so happens I have one mule egg left from the last batch I raised," the neighbor said. He went into the shed and came out with a round, hairy coconut. The greenhorn's eyes lit up.
"How much do I owe you?" he asked his neighbor.
"That'll be a dollar. And mind you, you've got to sit on the mule egg night and day for a week before it will hatch," the neighbor said, accepting the greenhorn's money and handing over the coconut.
Well, the greenhorn ran all the way home and showed the mule egg to his wife and kiddies. Everyone was thrilled with his purchase, and they all took turns sitting on the coconut, waiting for it to hatch. They waited one week. Then they waited two. By the third week, everyone's bottoms were sore from sitting on the hard coconut, and still there was no sign of a mule.
"It must be a bad egg," the wife said at last. "Better throw it out and see if our neighbor will give us our money back."
As the disappointed family watched, the greenhorn took the coconut outside and pitched it into the bushes. All at once, a giant jackrabbit burst out of the tall grass next to the bushes and hopped away lickety-split.
"It's the baby mule!" shouted one of the kiddies. "Catch it, Pa! Catch it."
Well, the greenhorn ran after that long-eared critter as fast as he could go, shouting: "I'm your momma, baby mule! Please come back!" But he was no match for that jackrabbit. It darted here and there; it slithered hither and yon; and finally it slid down a hole in the ground and disappeared.
The greenhorn fell to the ground and lay panting in exhaustion. A few moments later, his wife and kids caught up with him and pulled him to his feet.
"Where's our mule?" asked his wife.
"The dad-blame thing got away," said the greenhorn. "And I'm not sorry it did. That's the speediest mule I ever laid eyes on, and I don't aim to plow that fast!"


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ne fine day an old Maine man was fishing and fishing on his favorite lake and catching nary a thing. Finally, he gave up and walked back along the shore to his fishing shack. When he got close to the front door, he saw it was open. Being of a suspicious nature, he walked to the door quietly and looked inside. There was a big black bear. It was just pulling the cork out of his molasses jug with its teeth. The molasses spilled all over the floor and the bear rubbed his paw in it, smearing it all over.
Well, the old man was not the timid sort. He went to the back of the shack, put his head in the window and gave a loud yell. The bear jumped and ran out the door. It was running strangely. The old man saw that the bear was holding up the foot covered with molasses so it wouldn't get dirty.
The bear ran to the lake shore. Standing on its hind legs, it held up the paw full of molasses. Soon all the flies and bugs and mosquitoes were swarming all over the sticky sweet paw. Then the bear waded into the water with his sticky paw full of bugs. It held the paw out over the water. Suddenly, a big trout came jumping out of the water trying to get to the flies. The bear gave it a swat and it flew to the shore and flopped there. Then another fish jumped into the air after the flies, followed swiftly by another. Every time a fish jumped after his paw, the bear cuffed it ashore. Soon it had a large pile.
Finally, the bear decided he had enough fish and waded to shore. The bear had caught a mess of fish any fisherman would envy. The old man had caught nothing. He watched that bear eat half a dozen trout, his stomach rumbling. All he had for dinner was some bread and what was left of the molasses. Finally the bear paused in his eating, and looked over to the bushes where the old man was hidden. The bear stood up and laid the remaining fish in a row. Then it walked away up the shore. It kept looking back at the bushes where the old man stood.
The old man crept out of the bushes and down to the shore. Sure enough, the bear had left six large trout for him. He looked over at the bear. It was standing at the edge of the wood watching. "Thanks a lot," the old man called to the bear. The bear waved the now-clean paw at the old man and disappeared into the thicket. "Well," said the old man, "That's the first time a bear has ever paid me for my molasses."
The old man never hunted bears again.



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Heron and Hummingbird were very good friends, even though one was tall and gangly and awkward and one was small and sleek and fast. They both loved to eat fish. The Hummingbird preferred small fish like minnows and Heron liked the large ones.

One day, Hummingbird said to his friend: "I am not sure there are enough fish in the world for both of our kind to eat. Why don't we have a race to see which of us should own the fish?"
Heron thought that was a very good idea. They decided that they would race for four days. The finish line was an old dead tree next to a far-away river. Whichever of them sat on top of the tree first on the fourth day of the race would own all the fish in the world.
They started out the next morning. The Hummingbird zipped along, flying around and around the Heron, who was moving steadily forward, flapping his giant wings. Then Hummingbird would be distracted by the pretty flowers along the way. He would flit from one to the other, tasting the nectar. When Hummingbird noticed that Heron was ahead of him, he hurried to catch up with him, zooming ahead as fast as he could, and leaving Heron far behind. Heron just kept flying steadily forward, flapping his giant wings.
Hummingbird was tired from all his flitting. When it got dark, he decided to rest. He found a nice spot to perch and slept all night long. But Heron just kept flying steadily forward all night long, flapping his giant wings.
When Hummingbird woke in the morning, Heron was far ahead. Hummingbird had to fly as fast as he could to catch up. He zoomed past the big, awkward Heron and kept going until Heron had disappeared behind him. Then Hummingbird noticed some pretty flowers nearby. He zip-zipped over to them and tasted their nectar. He was enjoying the pretty scenery and didn't notice Heron flap-flapping passed him with his great wings.
Hummingbird finally remembered that he was racing with Heron, and flew as fast as he could to catch up with the big, awkward bird. Then he zipped along, flying around and around the Heron, who kept moving steadily forward, flapping his giant wings.
For two more days, the Hummingbird and the Heron raced toward the far-distant riverbank with the dead tree that was the finish line. Hummingbird had a marvelous time sipping nectar and flitting among the flowers and resting himself at night. Heron stoically kept up a steady flap-flap-flapping of his giant wings, propelling himself forward through the air all day and all night.
Hummingbird woke from his sleep the morning of the fourth day, refreshed and invigorated. He flew zip-zip toward the riverbank with its dead tree. When it came into view, he saw Heron perched at the top of the tree! Heron had won the race by flying straight and steady through the night while Hummingbird slept.
So from that day forward, the Heron has owned all the fish in the rivers and lakes, and the Hummingbird has sipped from the nectar of the many flowers which he enjoyed so much during the race.
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Once, a Kansas farmer sent his son Jack to check on the growth of the corn in the field. Now Jack was not a tall lad, so he decided to take a ladder with him. When he found a nice big stalk of corn, he leaned the ladder against it and climbed up until he could reach the first joint. From there, he proceeded to the top of the cornstalk, and looked out over the field. There was enough corn there for a rich harvest.

Excited by his discovery, Jack started back down the corn stalk. He realized suddenly that it had kept growing while he was at the top. He stepped from joint to joint, but it grew so fast he never reached the ground.
Meanwhile, Jack's father wondered what was taking the boy so long. He knew there was no use in hunting for him in the forest of corn, so he climbed to the top of the windmill. He saw Jack's predicament soon enough, and gathered the neighborhood men. They tried to chop down the cornstalk, but the cornstalk was growing so fast there were eighteen inches separating every chop. Finally, they gave up, and Jack was forced to stay on the corn stalk until a drought came and it finally stopped growing.
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One night, in 1881, a fierce storm broke over the Des Moines river valley. The storm raged through the night, flooding the river and the nearby creeks. Along about 11 p.m., a "pusher" train was sent to search for any wash-outs along the track. After it passed the home of the Shelley family, a railroad widow raising five children, the family heard a terrible crashing sound. The bridge over Honey Creek had collapsed, taking the pusher train with it.

The eldest daughter, fifteen year old Kate Shelley, ran out into the storm to investigate. She saw two of the four men trapped in the water, but she could not reach them. Kate realized that she could not rescue the men by herself, and furthermore, that a midnight express train was due to pass over the Honey Creek Bridge, possibly sending more people to their death if she did not warn the nearby Moingona station of the washout.
Kate Shelly knew there was a nearby trestle bridge with a tiny catwalk over the flooded Des Moines River. So, amid the darkness and the storm, Kate crawled on hands and knees across the catwalk. Halfway across, a tree came crashing into the center of the trestle bridge. Kate was sure the tree would break the rickety bridge apart, throwing her into the flood waters below, but at the last moment, the tree slipped between the piers, splashing water all over Kate.
As soon as Kate reached the other side of the river, she ran towards Moingona Station, trying to beat the clock. She burst into the station, wild-eyed and warned the station agent of the wash-out. The station agent ran out into the storm with a red lamp to halt the express, whose headlight was bearing down upon the station.
As soon as the express train was safe, Kate led a rescue train to where the two men from the pusher train were clinging on for dear life, and they were saved as well. Only two lives were lost that night, thanks to the bravery of Kate Shelley.

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Now everyone in the West knows that Pecos Bill could ride anything. No bronco could throw him, no sir! Fact is, I only heard of Bill getting' throwed once in his whole career as a cowboy. Yep, it was that time he was up Kansas way and decided to ride him a tornado.

Now Bill wasn't gonna ride jest any tornado, no ma'am. He waited for the biggest gol-durned tornado you ever saw. It was turning the sky black and green, and roaring so loud it woke up the farmers away over in China. Well, Bill jest grabbed that there tornado, pushed it to the ground and jumped on its back. The tornado whipped and whirled and sidewinded and generally cussed its bad luck all the way down to Texas. Tied the rivers into knots, flattened all the forests so bad they had to rename one place the Staked Plains. But Bill jest rode along all calm-like, give it an occasional jab with his spurs.
Finally, that tornado decided it wasn't getting this cowboy off its back no-how. So it headed west to California and jest rained itself out. Made so much water it washed out the Grand Canyon. That tornado was down to practically nothing when Bill finally fell off. He hit the ground so hard it sank below sea level. Folks call the spot Death Valley.
Anyway, that's how rodeo got started. Though most cowboys stick to broncos these days.

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The Whistling River - so named because twice a day, it reared up to a height of two hundred feet and let loose a whistle that could be heard for over six hundred miles - was the most ornery river in the U.S. of A. It took a fiendish delight in plaguing the life out of the loggers who worked it. It would tie their logs into knots, flip men into the water then toss them back out onto the banks, and break apart whole rafts of logs as soon as the loggers put them together.

This fact by itself might not have been enough by itself to get Paul Bunyan involved. But one day Paul was sitting on a hill by the river combing his beard with a large pine tree when without warning the river reared up and spat four hundred and nineteen gallons of muddy water onto his beard. This startled Paul somewhat, but he figured if he ignored the river, it would go away and leave him alone. But that ornery river jest reared up again and spat five thousand and nineteen gallons of muddy water onto his beard, adding a batch of mud turtles, several large fish and a muskrat into the mix. Paul Bunyan was so mad he jumped up and let out a yell that caused a landslide all the way out in Pike's Peak.
"By jingo, I am gonna tame that river or bust a gut trying!" he cried.
So Paul sat for four days eating popcorn and trying to figure out how to tame that river. He ate so much popcorn that the air was soon filled with white bits and the ground for three miles around was covered with eighteen inches of popcorn scraps. This caused several hundred small animals and a few dozen birds to conclude that they were in a blizzard and so they froze to death. This furnished the loggers at the camp with pot pies for several days.
Just as he ran out of popcorn, Paul decided that the way to tame the river was to pull out the kinks. He would hitch the river to Babe the Blue Ox and let him yank it straight. Of course, Paul knew that an ordinary log chain and the skid hook wouldn't work with water. So he and Babe took a short walk up to the North Pole. There, Paul made a box trap baited with icicles that he set near a blizzard trail. Then he and Babe wandered away. Paul started to throw icebergs out into the ocean so Babe could play fetch. But he had to stop the game since each time Babe jumped into the water a tidal wave threatened to swamp the coast of Florida. After lunch, Paul went back to check the trap. He had caught six young blizzards and an old nor'wester. He put two of the young blizzards in his sack and released the rest. Then he and Babe went back to their camp.
As he walked into camp, Paul yelled to Ole, the Big Swede to build him the largest log chain that's ever been built. Then he staked out the two blizzards, one on each side of the river. Right away, the river began to freeze. By morning, the river had a tough time rearing up to whistle because it was frozen solid for more than seventeen miles. When Paul Bunyan finished his breakfast, he harnessed Babe and wrapped the chain seventy-two times around the foot of the frozen Whistle River. Yelling to the men to stand clear, he shouted at Babe to pull. Babe pulled that chain into a solid bar and sank knee deep into solid rock, but that ornery river refused to budge. So Paul grabbed the chain and he and Babe gave such a yank that the river jerked loose from its banks and they dragged it across the prairie so fast it smoked. After a while, Paul looked back and saw the river was as straight as a gun barrel. But the river was much shorter with the kinks out, and all the extra lengths that used to be in the kinks were running wild out on the prairie. So Paul got his big cross-cut saw and a lot of baling wire and sawed the extra lengths of river into nine-mile pieces, rolled them up and tied them off with the baling wire. He later used them to float his logs when he logged out the desert.
But now that it was straight, the Whistling River lost its gimp and refused to whistle. Which made everyone mad at Paul Bunyan, because now they didn't know when to wake up in the morning. Paul might have been in real trouble if Squeaky Swanson hadn't showed up right about then. Squeaky's speaking voice was no louder than a whisper. But when he yelled, you could hear him clean out in Kansas. So each morning Squeaky got up at the crack of dawn and yelled the blankets off of every bed in camp. Naturally, the men found it hard to sleep in the cold without their blankets, so they got up. Squeaky was a great success, and for the rest of his life he did nothing but get up at dawn and let out one really loud yell.
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Now Rabbit had a favorite place on the river where he always went to drink water. It was on a bend in the river, and two Snakes lived there, one on the upper side of the bend and one on the lower. Rabbit soon learned that neither of the Snakes knew that the other Snake lived there.

Ho, ho, ho, thought Rabbit. I am going to have a bit of fun!
Rabbit went to the Snake that lived on the upper bend of the river. "I am a very strong Rabbit," he told the Snake. "I bet I can pull you right out of the water."
"I bet you can't!" said the Snake, who was very strong indeed.
"I will go get a grape vine," said Rabbit. "You will pull one end and I will pull the other. "If I pull you out of the water, I win the contest. If you pull me into the water, then I win."
The Snake on the upper bend agreed. Then Rabbit went to the Snake on the lower bend and made the same deal. He told both Snakes that he would be standing out of sight on top of the river bank and would give a whoop when he was in place and ready to start the contest. Both Snakes were pleased with the arrangement. They were sure they would win against such a feeble little Rabbit.
Rabbit took a long grape vine and strung it across the wide bend in the river. He handed one end to the first Snake and the other end to the second Snake. Then he gave a loud whoop from the middle of the river bank and the two Snakes started tugging and pulling with all their might.
"That Rabbit is really strong," thought the Snake on the upper bank. He would tug and tug and the vine would come a little closer to him and then he would nearly be pulled out of the water.
"My, Rabbit is much stronger than he appears," thought the Snake on the lower bank after he was almost hurled out of the water by an extra strong pull from up the river.
Rabbit sat on the bank above both Snakes and laughed and laughed. The Snakes heard him laughing and realized that they had been fooled. Letting go of the rope, they swam to the middle of the bend and met each other for the first time.
Both Snakes were angry with Rabbit for making them look foolish. They agreed that Rabbit could no longer drink from his favorite place on the river bend where they lived. In spite of his protests, they sent Rabbit away and would not let him come down to the riverbank anymore. So whenever Rabbit grew thirsty, he had to turn himself into a faun in order to get a drink from the river.
After that, Rabbit decided not to play any more jokes on Snakes.

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It was so cold. Snow fell constantly, and ice formed over all the waters. The animals had never seen snow before. At first, it was a novelty, something to play in. But the cold increased tenfold, and they began to worry. The little animals were being buried in the snow drifts and the larger animals could hardly walk because the snow was so deep. Soon, all would perish if something were not done. "I am tired of eating in the same old field every day," he told his brothers. "I want to eat in the meadow on the far side of the stream.
"Ohhh no, Big Billy Goat," said little brother. "We cannot walk through the stream for it is too deep and too fast. We would be swept away!"
"And we cannot walk over the bridge," said middle brother, "because there is a big troll under the bridge who will gobble us up if we try to cross it."
"I am not afraid of the troll," said Big Billy Goat Gruff, tossing his bold head with the huge round horns. He stamped the ground - once, twice, thrice - with his big hooves. "Let him try to eat me! We shall see who wins the fight!"
"But we won't be there to see," said Middle Billy Goat Gruff practically, "Because Little Billy Goat Gruff and I will have been eaten."
"Not so!" cried Big Billy Goat Gruff, dancing around the meadow excitedly, his large hooves making holes in the mossy turf under his feet. "I have a plan!"
The three billy goats put their heads together and whispered for a long time. Finally they broke the huddle and all three of them trotted across the wide meadow to the narrow bridge that crossed the fast-flowing, deep stream in the ravine dividing their meadow and the one on the other side.
Taking a deep breath for courage, Little Billy Goat Gruff stepped onto the rough wooden bridge. Trip-trap, trip-trap. His little hooves made the bridge spring up and down a little as he moved carefully forward.
A pair of huge round eyes peered out from the darkness under the bridge. "Who's that trip-trapping over my bridge?" rumbled the troll. A big hairy arm reached out from the darkness and huge fingers gripped the rail beside Little Billy Goat Gruff.
"It's just me," said Little Billy Goat Gruff in a very small voice. "I am the teeny-tiniest Billy Goat Gruff, all skin and bones, going over to the meadow to make myself fat."
A second huge hand joined the first on the rail. "I am coming to eat you," said the troll, his voice rumbling so deep that it shook the whole bridge.
"Eat me?" asked Little Billy Goat Gruff, shaking from head to toe, "I am too little. Not even worth a bite for a big troll like you. You should wait for my middle brother to come. He is much bigger than me."
This made sense to the troll. Why go to all that bother for one small bite of Billy Goat when a bigger Billy Goat was on its way?
"Gerroff my bridge then," the troll roared, slipping back down into the darkness underneath. "And don't come back here until you are big and fat!"
"Yes sir," said Little Billy Goat Gruff, trotting off the far side of the bridge in triumph and heading up into the wide-green meadow above. The plan was working!
When Little Billy Goat Gruff reached the top of the hill, Middle Billy Goat Gruff stepped onto the rough wooden bridge. Trap-rap, trap-rap. His medium-sized hooves made the boards of the bridge spring and sway under his weight as he moved forward.
A pair of huge round eyes peered out from the darkness under the bridge. "Who's that trap-rapping over my bridge?" grumbled the troll loudly. Hairy arms reached out from the darkness and huge fingers gripped the rail beside Middle Billy Goat Gruff.
"It's me," said Middle Billy Goat Gruff in a very medium-sized voice. "I am the Middle Billy Goat Gruff, all skin and bones from the winter. I am going over to the meadow to make myself fat."
Two blazing troll eyes over a long, twisted nose glared at him through the rails of the bridge. "I am coming to eat you," said the troll, his voice rumbling so deep that it shook the whole bridge.
"Eat me?" asked Middle Billy Goat Gruff with a laugh. "Why do you want to eat me? I am all skinny from the winter. Barely two bites for a big troll like you. And my bones will get stuck in your throat and make it feel all scratchy and horrible. You should wait for my big brother to come. He is huge! Much bigger than me."
This made good sense to the troll. Why go to all that bother for one bony, medium sized Billy Goat when a bigger Billy Goat was on its way?
"Gerroff my bridge then," the troll roared, slipping back down into the darkness underneath. "And don't come back here until you are big and fat!"
"I'm off then," said Middle Billy Goat Gruff, trotting to the far side of the bridge in triumph. He headed up to the wide-green meadow above and joined Little Billy Goat Gruff at the top of the hill. Then both of the brothers peered down at the bridge to see what Big Billy Goat Gruff was going to do.
As they watched, Big Billy Goat Gruff stepped onto the rough wooden bridge. Stomp-tromp, stomp-tromp. His huge hooves made the boards bend and give protesting creaks under his massive weight as he moved forward.
A pair of huge round eyes peered out from the darkness under the bridge. "Who's that stomp-tromping over my bridge?" roared the troll. He sprang out onto the top of the bridge in a single leap. Big Billy Goat Gruff narrowed his eyes at the large, hairy troll. "It's me," he said, lowering his huge head so the curved horns were pointed at the troll. Then he charged.
Wham! Big Billy Goat Gruff slammed into the troll. "Arrrgh!" screamed the troll as it was lifted clean off its feet and thrown way, way, way up into the air. The troll landed head down on the bridge, making it shake and rattle from top to bottom. Big Billy Goat Gruff stomped and tromped on the troll with his huge hooves until the troll was smashed flat on the wood boards. Then he tossed him into the raging stream with his huge horns and the troll sailed down the ravine and out of sight, never to be seen again in those parts.
And Big Billy Goat Gruff went up the hill to join his brothers in the meadow. All summer long they ate the lovely green grass in both meadows until they all grew quite fat. And they walked back and forth over the troll-free bridge whenever they wanted.
Snippity-snip, snap and snout,
This little tale has been told out!


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Snippity-snip, snap and swill,
The tale begins upon a hill…
The air was crisp and cool. The sky was an endless blue. The green meadow grass swayed in a gentle breeze. And Big Billy Goat Gruff was bored.
"I am tired of eating in the same old field every day," he told his brothers. "I want to eat in the meadow on the far side of the stream.
"Ohhh no, Big Billy Goat," said little brother. "We cannot walk through the stream for it is too deep and too fast. We would be swept away!"
"And we cannot walk over the bridge," said middle brother, "because there is a big troll under the bridge who will gobble us up if we try to cross it."
"I am not afraid of the troll," said Big Billy Goat Gruff, tossing his bold head with the huge round horns. He stamped the ground - once, twice, thrice - with his big hooves. "Let him try to eat me! We shall see who wins the fight!"
"But we won't be there to see," said Middle Billy Goat Gruff practically, "Because Little Billy Goat Gruff and I will have been eaten."
"Not so!" cried Big Billy Goat Gruff, dancing around the meadow excitedly, his large hooves making holes in the mossy turf under his feet. "I have a plan!"
The three billy goats put their heads together and whispered for a long time. Finally they broke the huddle and all three of them trotted across the wide meadow to the narrow bridge that crossed the fast-flowing, deep stream in the ravine dividing their meadow and the one on the other side.
Taking a deep breath for courage, Little Billy Goat Gruff stepped onto the rough wooden bridge. Trip-trap, trip-trap. His little hooves made the bridge spring up and down a little as he moved carefully forward.
A pair of huge round eyes peered out from the darkness under the bridge. "Who's that trip-trapping over my bridge?" rumbled the troll. A big hairy arm reached out from the darkness and huge fingers gripped the rail beside Little Billy Goat Gruff.
"It's just me," said Little Billy Goat Gruff in a very small voice. "I am the teeny-tiniest Billy Goat Gruff, all skin and bones, going over to the meadow to make myself fat."
A second huge hand joined the first on the rail. "I am coming to eat you," said the troll, his voice rumbling so deep that it shook the whole bridge.
"Eat me?" asked Little Billy Goat Gruff, shaking from head to toe, "I am too little. Not even worth a bite for a big troll like you. You should wait for my middle brother to come. He is much bigger than me."
This made sense to the troll. Why go to all that bother for one small bite of Billy Goat when a bigger Billy Goat was on its way?
"Gerroff my bridge then," the troll roared, slipping back down into the darkness underneath. "And don't come back here until you are big and fat!"
"Yes sir," said Little Billy Goat Gruff, trotting off the far side of the bridge in triumph and heading up into the wide-green meadow above. The plan was working!
When Little Billy Goat Gruff reached the top of the hill, Middle Billy Goat Gruff stepped onto the rough wooden bridge. Trap-rap, trap-rap. His medium-sized hooves made the boards of the bridge spring and sway under his weight as he moved forward.
A pair of huge round eyes peered out from the darkness under the bridge. "Who's that trap-rapping over my bridge?" grumbled the troll loudly. Hairy arms reached out from the darkness and huge fingers gripped the rail beside Middle Billy Goat Gruff.
"It's me," said Middle Billy Goat Gruff in a very medium-sized voice. "I am the Middle Billy Goat Gruff, all skin and bones from the winter. I am going over to the meadow to make myself fat."
Two blazing troll eyes over a long, twisted nose glared at him through the rails of the bridge. "I am coming to eat you," said the troll, his voice rumbling so deep that it shook the whole bridge.
"Eat me?" asked Middle Billy Goat Gruff with a laugh. "Why do you want to eat me? I am all skinny from the winter. Barely two bites for a big troll like you. And my bones will get stuck in your throat and make it feel all scratchy and horrible. You should wait for my big brother to come. He is huge! Much bigger than me."
This made good sense to the troll. Why go to all that bother for one bony, medium sized Billy Goat when a bigger Billy Goat was on its way?
"Gerroff my bridge then," the troll roared, slipping back down into the darkness underneath. "And don't come back here until you are big and fat!"
"I'm off then," said Middle Billy Goat Gruff, trotting to the far side of the bridge in triumph. He headed up to the wide-green meadow above and joined Little Billy Goat Gruff at the top of the hill. Then both of the brothers peered down at the bridge to see what Big Billy Goat Gruff was going to do.
As they watched, Big Billy Goat Gruff stepped onto the rough wooden bridge. Stomp-tromp, stomp-tromp. His huge hooves made the boards bend and give protesting creaks under his massive weight as he moved forward.
A pair of huge round eyes peered out from the darkness under the bridge. "Who's that stomp-tromping over my bridge?" roared the troll. He sprang out onto the top of the bridge in a single leap. Big Billy Goat Gruff narrowed his eyes at the large, hairy troll. "It's me," he said, lowering his huge head so the curved horns were pointed at the troll. Then he charged.
Wham! Big Billy Goat Gruff slammed into the troll. "Arrrgh!" screamed the troll as it was lifted clean off its feet and thrown way, way, way up into the air. The troll landed head down on the bridge, making it shake and rattle from top to bottom. Big Billy Goat Gruff stomped and tromped on the troll with his huge hooves until the troll was smashed flat on the wood boards. Then he tossed him into the raging stream with his huge horns and the troll sailed down the ravine and out of sight, never to be seen again in those parts.
And Big Billy Goat Gruff went up the hill to join his brothers in the meadow. All summer long they ate the lovely green grass in both meadows until they all grew quite fat. And they walked back and forth over the troll-free bridge whenever they wanted.
Snippity-snip, snap and snout,
This little tale has been told out!

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Once long ago, Dog was married to Cat. They were happy together, but every night when Dog came home from work, Cat said she was too sick to make him dinner. Dog was patient with this talk for a while, but he soon got mighty tired of fixing dinner for them both after a hard day's work. After all, Cat just stayed home all day long.

One day, Dog told Cat he was going to work, but instead he hid in the cupboard and watched Cat to see if she really was sick. As soon as Cat thought Dog had left, she started playing games with Kitten. They laughed and ran about. Cat wasn't the least bit sick.
Dog jumped out of the cupboard. When Cat saw him, she stuck a marble in her cheek and told Dog she had a toothache. Dog got so mad at her he started chasing her around and around the house.
Dogs have been chasing Cats ever since.
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One day, Opossum was walking in the woods around sunset when he spied Raccoon. Now Opossum had always admired Raccoon because he had a beautiful tail with rings all around it.
So Opossum went up to Raccoon and said: "How did you get those pretty rings on your tail?"
Raccoon stroked his fluffy long tail fondly and said: "Well, I wrapped bark around the tail here and here and here," he pointed. "Then I stuck my tail into the fire. The fur between the strips of bark turned black and the places underneath the bark remained white, just as you see!"
Opossum thanked the Raccoon and hurried away to gather some bark. He wrapped the bark around his furry tail, built a big bonfire, and stuck his tail into the flames. Only the bonfire was too hot and too fierce. It instantly burned all of the hair off the Opossum's tail, leaving it entirely bare.
Opossum wailed and moaned when he saw his poor tail, but there was nothing he could do but wait for the fur to grow back. Opossum waited and waited and waited. But the tail was too badly burnt by the fire and the fur did not grow back. Opossum's tail remained bare for the rest of his life.
Opossum tails have been bare ever since.

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One evening, Opossum was playing in a field with her babies when Big Bat came swooping down and grabbed all of the little ones and carried them away. Opossum shouted and begged for Bat to bring her babies back to her, but he would not. Bat put the little opossums into a deep hole in the rock and watched over them there.
Opossum walked around and around the forest, crying for her babies. When Wolf heard her wails, he came to her and asked what was wrong. "Big Bat has taken my babies from me and he will not give them back," she told him.
"I will get them for you," Wolf said. "if you show me where they are."
So Opossum showed Wolf the deep hole in the rock where Bat watched over her babies. Wolf bravely walked into the darkness. But a moment later she heard him cursing, and then he came running back outside saying, "I am sorry, but I cannot retrieve your babies."
So Opossum kept walking around and around the forest, crying for her babies. When Rabbit heard her wails, he came to her and asked what was wrong. "Big Bat has taken my babies from me and he will not give them back," she told him.
"I will get them for you," Rabbit said. "if you show me where they are."
So Opossum showed Rabbit the deep hole in the rock where Bat watched over her babies. Rabbit boldly walked into the darkness. But a moment later she heard him cursing, and then he came running back outside saying, "I am sorry, but I cannot retrieve your babies."
Opossum was frantic now. Brave Wolf and Bold Rabbit had been unable to retrieve her babies. She walked around and around the forest, crying hysterically for her babies. When Highland-Terrapin heard her wails, he came to her and asked what was wrong. "Big Bat has taken my babies from me and he will not give them back," she told him.
"I will get them for you," Highland-Terrapin said. "if you show me where they are."
Opossum showed Highland-Terrapin the deep hole in the rock where Bat watched over her babies. Highland-Terrapin carefully walked into the darkness. A moment later she heard him cursing. Big Bat had thrown hot ashes down in the path in front of him, burning his large flat feet. But Highland Terrapin kept going in spite of the pain. He could see the little opossums huddled together a few paces away. They were crying for their mother. Highland-Terrapin saw Big Bat hovering above them, and he scolded Bat for stealing the babies from their mother. Highland-Terrapin picked up the little opossums and carried them out of the deep, dark hole. Big Bat dove at him a few times, but he kept bouncing off the terrapin's hard shell before he could reach the babies. Finally, Bat gave up and flew away.
Highland-Terrapin cut a hole in the belly of the happy Opossum mama and placed her babies inside it. "You keep your babies in there until they stop nursing," he told her. "When they no longer need milk to drink, you can let them out."
From that day onward, Opossum mamas have carried their little babies in a pouch until they are old enough to eat on their own.

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One rainy autumn, a traveler got lost in the mountains of Arkansas. He was tired and hungry, and so was his horse. Night was approaching. All at once, he saw a cabin. A squatter sat on the porch fiddling the same tune over and over.

The traveler asked the squatter for food and water for himself and his horse. The squatter replied: "Ain't got a thing in the house."
The traveler asked where the next house was. The squatter said: "Dunno. I ain't never been there."
The frustrated traveler asked if he could spend the night. The squatter replied: "House leaks. My wife and me sleep on the only dry spot."
"Why don't you mend the roof?" asked the traveler.
"Can't mend the roof on a rainy day."
The whole time, the squatter continued to fiddle the same tune, over and over.
The traveler snapped: "Why don't you finish that tune?"
"Can't get the turn of the tune."
The traveler took the fiddle, played the turn of the tune and finished it.
"Stranger," said the squatter, "Grab yerself a chair and set down. Sal, cut a hunk outta that deer and cook it. Son, get the whisky and put the horse in the shed. You jest play away, stranger. Tonight, you can sleep on the dry spot!"

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Well now, that rascal Brer Fox hated Brer Rabbit on account of he was always cutting capers and bossing everyone around. So Brer Fox decided to capture and kill Brer Rabbit if it was the last thing he ever did! He thought and he thought until he came up with a plan. He would make a tar baby! Brer Fox went and got some tar and he mixed it with some turpentine and he sculpted it into the figure of a cute little baby. Then he stuck a hat on the Tar Baby and sat her in the middle of the road.
"What in tarnation is a Gollywhopper?" I demanded irritably, trying to sit up in my chair. My rheumatism gave me a painful stab and I settled back against the cushions. Mistress Smith smiled at me kindly, obviously pitying my ignorance.

"A Gollywhopper is a rare sort of eating bird, like a gigantic chicken, found only on a tiny island in the West Indies called TheresOneBornEveryMinute," she explained. "Fortunately, Peddler Johnson saved the life of the chief of the island and was awarded with one full setting of eggs from this priceless bird. Everyone in town is buying eggs as fast as Johnson can sell them. I came to see if you wanted me to buy some for you. Of course, Peddler Johnson could not guarantee that my eggs will hatch out to be a breeding pair of Gollywhoppers, but I am hopeful."

I snorted irritably. "Sounds like a hoax to me."

"Now Anna, you think everything is a hoax," Mistress Smith laughed easily. "I am keeping the eggs warm by the fire. They should hatch out in a month."

After a few more kindly words, Mistress Smith left. After pondering the situation for another hour, I hauled myself out of my chair, reached for my cane, and walked stiffly down the path to the Smith household, muttering "There's one born every minute, eh? Just what are you trying to pull, Peddler Johnson?"

Mistress Smith was startled to see me hobbling painfully up to her door.

"Why Anna, you shouldn't be up!" she cried.

"I came to see these Gollywhopper Eggs of yours, Sarah Smith," I said grimly. Mistress Smith tucked me into the kitchen rocker and then proudly pulled out a pair of large hairy round objects. I recognized them at once.

"Sarah Smith, those aren't eggs at all. That peddler sold you a pair of coconuts!" I said. "You can buy them for a penny a dozen down in the West Indies."

"Coconuts? What are coconuts?"

"They are the fruit of the coconut palm tree. Good eating, but definitely not an egg," I said. "My late husband, may he rest-in-peace, used to bring cargoes of coconuts back on his ships."

"Then Peddler Johnson cheated me!" Sarah Smith said indignantly.

"Yes he did," I replied.

We put our heads together then, and thought up a plan to rid ourselves of the pesky peddler and get the town's money back.

The next day, Peddler Johnson dropped by my house to show his wares to a poor widow woman. Mistress Smith and several of the neighborhood ladies came for a visit just as he was displaying the fabled "Gollywhopper's Eggs".

"You mean these coconuts?" I asked calmly. Peddler Johnson swallowed and glanced nervously at the women assembled around his shiny wagon full of dry goods. "I've never heard anyone call them Gollywhopper's Eggs before. I will give you a penny for them."

"A penny for Gollywhopper's Eggs?" Mistress Smith said indignantly. "They are worth five dollars a-piece!"

"Five dollars a-piece for the fruit of a coconut palm tree?" I asked incredulously. "According to my late husband, coconuts are hardly worth a penny a dozen in the West Indies."

Peddler Johnson was looking rather green by now. Hastily, he told me that he had another appointment and tried to jump onto his wagon and drive away. But he was surrounded by angry ladies demanding their money back.

Finally, Peddler Johnson could take no more. He leapt away from his wagon and ran as fast as his legs could carry him down the road and out of town. The ladies gave chase, throwing all the remaining coconuts in his wagon after his retreating figure.

I reimbursed the ladies out of the money tin I found in the wagon and put the peddler's horse and wagon in my barn. Johnson must have crept back to get them in the night, because they were gone the next morning.

Peddler Johnson never ventured into our town again, and that was the last anyone ever heard of the fabled Gollywhopper's Eggs.


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