The Tale of Sandy Chipmunk
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Arthur Scott Bailey >> The Tale of Sandy Chipmunk
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_SLEEPY-TIME
THE TALE OF SANDY CHIPMUNK
BY
ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY
ILLUSTRATED BY HARRY L. SMITH
1916
[Illustration: Sandy Was So Startled That He Dropped the Eggs]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I SANDY'S NAME
II SOMETHING IN THE SKY
III THE BROKEN EGG
IV BUILDING A HOUSE
V MRS. CHIPMUNK IS GLAD
VI SAMPLES OF WHEAT
VII UNCLE SAMMY'S STORE
VIII THE BASKET OF CORN
IX WORKING FOR MR. CROW
X MR. CROW SCOLDS SANDY
XI THE MAIL-BOX
XII SANDY GETS A LETTER
XIII A RIDE TO THE MILLER'S
XIV A LUCKY ACCIDENT
XV THE ROWDY OF THE WOODS
XVI ROWDY RUNS AWAY
XVII CORN-PLANTING TIME
XVIII SANDY LIKES MILK
XIX WHAT THE OLD COW DID
ILLUSTRATIONS
SANDY WAS SO STARTLED THAT HE DROPPED THE EGGS
MRS. CHIPMUNK WENT TO THE DOOR WITH SANDY
HE DROPPED THE GRAIN IN FRONT OF UNCLE SAMMY
UNCLE SAMMY SEARCHED HIS SHELVES CAREFULLY
"HERE'S A LETTER FOR ME!" SAID SANDY CHIPMUNK
FARMER GREEN'S CAT LEAPED OUT OF THE DOORWAY
THE TALE OF SANDY CHIPMUNK
I
SANDY'S NAME
In the first place, no doubt you will want to learn why he was known as
_Sandy_. Many others, before you, have wondered how Sandy Chipmunk came
by his name.
Whenever any one asked Sandy himself why he was so called, he always said
that he was in too great a hurry to stop to explain. And it is a fact
that of all the four-footed folk in Pleasant Valley--and on Blue Mountain
as well--he was one of the busiest. He was a great worker. And when he
played--as he sometimes did--he played just as hard as he worked.
In spite of his being so busy, there may have been another reason why he
never would tell any one why he was named Sandy. Jimmy Rabbit was the
first to suggest that perhaps Sandy Chipmunk didn't know.
Jimmy and some of his neighbors were sunning themselves in Farmer Green's
pasture one day. And while they were idling away the afternoon Sandy
Chipmunk scurried past on top of the stone wall, with his cheek-pouches
full of nuts.
"There goes Sandy Chipmunk!" Jimmy Rabbit exclaimed. He called to Sandy.
But Sandy did not stop. He made no answer, either, beyond a flick of his
tail. You see, his mouth was so full that he couldn't say a word.
"I was going to ask him about his name," Jimmy Rabbit remarked. "I've
almost made up my mind that he doesn't know any more about it than
anybody else."
"Probably he doesn't," Fatty Coon agreed. "But it's easy to see why he's
called Sandy. He likes to dig in the _sandy_ soil in this pasture."
"I don't agree with you," Billy Woodchuck said. "_I_ think he was named
Sandy on account of his yellowish, reddish, brownish color."
Some of the others thought that Billy might have guessed the right
answer. But Frisky Squirrel told them that that wasn't the reason at all.
"It's because he's _plucky_," he declared. "You know, _gritty_ is the
same as _plucky_. And _sandy_ is the same as _gritty_. That's the
reason," Frisky said. "It's plain as the nose on your face." He was
looking straight at Tommy Fox as he said that.
Now, Tommy Fox had a very long nose. And he became angry at once. His
face would have grown red, probably, if it hadn't been that color always.
"You don't know what you're talking about!" he snapped.
Old Mr. Crow, who sat in a tree nearby, nodded his head.
"You're all wrong," he told them. "The reason for calling that young
Chipmunk boy Sandy is because his real name is Alexander. And everybody
who knows anything at all knows that Sandy is just a short way of saying
Alexander."
When they heard that, Fatty Coon and Billy Woodchuck and Frisky Squirrel
looked foolish. People thought Mr. Crow was a wise old gentleman. And
when he said a thing was so, that usually settled it.
"Here he comes again!" Mr. Crow said.
They all looked around. And sure enough! there was Sandy Chipmunk,
hurrying along the top of the wall, to get more nuts to store away for
the winter.
"Wait a moment!" Mr. Crow called to him. "I want to tell you something."
Sandy Chipmunk came to a halt and sat up on top of a stone, with his tail
curled over his back.
"Talk fast, please!" he said. "I'm in a great hurry. Winter will be here
before you know it. And I want to store away a great many nuts before
somebody else gathers them all."
"I won't keep you long," Mr. Crow told him. "It's about your name--"
"I've no time to stop to explain," Sandy Chipmunk interrupted. "As I
said, I'm very busy to-day." And he started to scamper along the wall
again.
Once more Mr. Crow stopped him.
"You don't understand," he said. "I don't want to _ask_ you anything. I
want to _tell_ you something."
"Oh!" said Sandy. "That's different. What is it?"
"It's quite a joke," Mr. Crow said. And he laughed loudly. "These young
fellows here have been trying to tell one another why you're called
Sandy. One of 'em says it's because you like to dig in the sandy soil;
and another says it's because of your color; and still another claims
it's because you're plucky. But I tell 'em it's because your real name is
Alexander. And of course I'm right," said old Mr. Crow.
Sandy Chipmunk smiled. And then he started off again. And again Mr. Crow
stopped him.
"Quite a joke on these youngsters--isn't it?" he inquired.
"You told me you didn't want to _ask_ me anything," Sandy Chipmunk
reminded him. "But I will say this--though I am in a great hurry: So far
as I know, you are all of you right. And that's a joke on you, Mr. Crow."
Then Sandy Chipmunk scampered off. And everybody laughed--except Mr.
Crow.
"Alexander Chipmunk is a very pert young man," he grumbled.
II
SOMETHING IN THE SKY
When Sandy Chipmunk was just a little chap his mother began to teach him
to take care of himself. She told him that among other enemies he must
always watch out for foxes and minks and weasels--especially weasels.
"They are very dangerous," Mrs. Chipmunk said.
"Well, I'll always be safe if I climb a tree--won't I?" Sandy asked her.
"Goodness, no!" his mother replied. "There are many big birds--such as
hawks and owls and eagles--that would catch you if they could.... But
I'll tell you about _them_ some other time, Sandy."
Well, Sandy Chipmunk went out to play. But he didn't have what you would
call a good time, because he couldn't help thinking of his mother's
warning. He kept looking all around to see whether a weasel or a mink or
a fox might be trying to steal up behind him. And he kept looking up to
make sure that no big bird was ready to swoop down upon him.
But nothing of the sort happened--at least, not until the middle of the
afternoon. Sandy had begun to believe that his mother was too timid. He
did not think there was anything in Farmer Green's pasture to be afraid
of. There were the cows--nothing seemed to worry _them_. They ate grass,
or chewed their cuds, and never once looked behind them.
Sandy Chipmunk wandered further and further from home. For a long time he
had not taken the trouble to look at the sky. But at last he glanced up.
And to his great alarm he saw, hovering in the air far above him, an
enormous creature. He had never seen its like before. It seemed all head
and tail. Two great eyes stared at Sandy Chipmunk and sent a chill of
fear over him. The monster's wide mouth grinned at him cruelly. And its
long tail lashed back and forth as if its owner were very angry. Even as
Sandy looked at the creature it gave a horrid scream.
Sandy Chipmunk did not wait for anything else. He turned and ran home.
And a few of his friends who happened to see him remarked that he seemed
to be in a greater hurry than ever.
Sandy felt better when he found himself safe in his mother's house. And
he told Mrs. Chipmunk what he had seen.
"It may be an owl," he said, "because it has big, round eyes. But its
tail was not like any owl's tail that I ever saw. It was like six
catamounts' tails, all tied in knots."
"That's queer!" his mother remarked. "I never knew of a bird with a tail
like that."
"Maybe it's a beast that has learned to fly," Sandy suggested.
"Beasts can't fly," Mrs. Chipmunk said.
But Sandy knew better than that.
"There's the Flying-Squirrel family," he reminded her.
"They can only fly from one tree to another," his mother told him. "I
think I'll peep out and see for myself what this strange creature looks
like."
He begged her not to. But Mrs. Chipmunk said she would be careful. And
she went out and looked up at the sky.
Sandy was surprised when she came back laughing.
"What is it, Mother?" he asked. "Is it a bird or a beast?"
"Neither!" Mrs. Chipmunk answered with a smile.
"Then it must be a fish!" Sandy exclaimed.
"No! It's not a fish, either," his mother said. "It's nothing but a kite
that Johnnie Green has made. He has painted eyes and a mouth on it. And I
must say that if I didn't know a kite when I saw one it might have
frightened me."
"But what makes it lash its tail that way?" Sandy asked her.
"The wind is blowing it," Mrs. Chipmunk explained.
"What made it scream?" Sandy inquired.
"It didn't," his mother replied.
[Illustration: Mrs. Chipmunk Went to the Door with Sandy]
Now, Sandy Chipmunk knew better than to contradict his mother. So all he
said was this:
"Let's go outside and listen!"
Still smiling, Mrs. Chipmunk went to the door again with Sandy. And
pretty soon they heard a long, far-off wail.
"There!" he cried. "That's it! Don't you hear it, Mother?"
"That--" Mrs. Chipmunk said--"that is nothing but the whistle of an
engine, way down at the other end of Pleasant Valley."
III
THE BROKEN EGG
Nuts and grains were what Sandy Chipmunk ate more than anything else. But
sometimes when he could not find enough of those, or when he wanted a
change of food, he would eat almost any sort of berry, and apples and
pears as well. Tomatoes, too, he liked once in a while. And he was very
fond of sunflower seeds. He would not refuse a fat insect, either, if it
flew his way. But these were not the only dainties that Sandy thought
good. There was something else--something to be found in trees--for which
Sandy sometimes hunted. And before he came home, after finding what he
was looking for, he always wiped his mouth with great care.
If you had ever seen him wiping his mouth like that, you might have
guessed that Sandy Chipmunk had been eating birds' eggs. And the reason
he was so careful to remove all signs of his feast was because he did not
want his mother to know what he had been doing.
Now you have heard the worst there is to know about Sandy Chipmunk.
To you it may seem odd that Mrs. Chipmunk did not think it wrong to rob
birds' nests. And now you know the worst about _her_.
Sandy's mother liked eggs just as much as he did. But her son was such
a little fellow that she was afraid he might get hurt climbing trees
and looking for eggs. She told him that some day some bird might
surprise him when he was enjoying a meal of her eggs, and peck out one
or two of his eyes.
"Keep away from the nests!" Mrs. Chipmunk said.
But Sandy had had too many tastes of birds' eggs. He simply couldn't
resist eating a few eggs now and then. Of course, when he did that he
disobeyed his mother. And of course, if she had known it she would have
punished him.
As the spring days sped past, the birds that lived in Farmer Green's
pasture grew very angry with Sandy Chipmunk. You see, it was not
long before they discovered who it was that was robbing their nests
now and then.
"You'd better leave birds' eggs alone!" Mr. Crow warned him one day. "A
number of my friends have told me what they're going to do to you, if
they catch you near their nests."
But Sandy told Mr. Crow to keep his advice to himself.
"What about Farmer Green's corn?" Sandy asked the old gentleman. "I've
heard that Farmer Green is looking for you with a gun."
Mr. Crow didn't even answer him. He just flew away. There were some
things he didn't like to talk about.
That very afternoon Sandy Chipmunk spied a robin's nest in a tree not far
from where he lived. And in less time than it takes to tell it, he had
climbed the tree and run out on the limb where the nest rested.
Sandy Chipmunk smiled as he peered into the robin's nest. The four
greenish-blue eggs that he saw there looked very good to him. And he
smacked his lips--though his mother had often told him not to. He was
just picking the eggs out of the nest when he heard a rustle in the
leaves over his head. And Sandy Chipmunk looked up quickly.
It seemed to him, at first, that the air was full of monstrous birds.
Actually, there were only three of them--Mr. and Mrs. Robin and a
neighbor of theirs. But to Sandy they looked six times as big as they
really were. _That_ was because they had caught him robbing the nest.
He was so startled that he dropped the eggs. They fell back into the
nest--all except one, which broke upon the ground beneath the tree.
"Robber!" Mrs. Robin screamed.
"Thief!" Mr. Robin roared.
"Villain!" their neighbor cried.
It is a wonder they didn't fly straight at Sandy and knock him off the
limb.
At first he was too frightened to say a word. But when he saw that he
wasn't hurt, Sandy looked down at the broken egg and said:
"What a pity!" He meant it, too. For he thought it was a shame to waste a
perfectly good egg like that, when he might have eaten it.
"You don't mean you're sorry, do you?" Mrs. Robin asked him.
"Certainly I am!" Sandy told her. "I was just counting your eggs. And
when you startled me, I dropped that one. I thought it must be a hawk,
you all made such a noise."
"You're sure you weren't going to eat our eggs?" Mr. Robin inquired.
"Eat them!" Sandy exclaimed. "Why, my mother has often told me not to eat
birds' eggs."
When he heard that, Mr. Robin whispered something to his wife. And then
he said to Sandy Chipmunk:
"You go home! And don't let me catch you around this tree again!"
Sandy was glad to escape so easily as that. And though he was sorry to
have missed a good meal, there was one thing that made him almost
happy: He didn't have to bother to wipe his mouth before he let his
mother see him.
IV
BUILDING A HOUSE
There came a day when Sandy Chipmunk decided that he was old enough and
big enough to make a house of his own. He was not the sort of person to
think and think about a thing and put off the doing of it from one day to
another. So the moment the idea of a house popped into his head Sandy
Chipmunk began hunting for a good place to dig.
It was not long before he found a bit of ground that seemed to him the
very best spot for a home that any one could want.
The place where he intended to make his front door was in the middle of a
smooth plot among some beech trees. Farmer Green's cows had clipped the
grass short all around. And Sandy knew that he could have a neat dooryard
without being obliged to go to the trouble of cutting the grass himself.
But what he liked most of all about the place was that as he stood there
he could look all around in every direction. That was just what he
wanted, because whenever he wished to leave his new house he would be
able to peep out and see whether anybody was waiting to catch him.
So Sandy Chipmunk took off his little, short coat, folded it carefully,
and laid it down upon the grass. Then he pulled off his necktie and
unbuttoned his collar. Just because he was going to dig in the ground
there was no reason why he should get his clothes dirty.
After that Sandy Chipmunk set to work. And you should have seen how he
made the earth fly. When night came and he had to stop working there was
a big heap of dirt beneath the beech trees, to show how busy Sandy had
been. There was a big hole in the pasture, too. But it was nothing at
all, compared with the hole Sandy had dug by the time he had finished
his house.
Every morning Sandy Chipmunk came back to the grove of beech trees to
work upon his new house. And it was not many days before his burrow was
so deep that when winter came the ground about his chamber would not
freeze. It was what Farmer Green would have called "below frost-line."
You must not think it was an easy matter for Sandy Chipmunk to dig a
home. You must remember that somehow he had to bring the dirt out of his
tunnel to the top of the ground. And he did that by _pushing it ahead of
him with his nose_.
You may laugh when you hear that. But for Sandy Chipmunk it was no
laughing matter. If _he_ had laughed, just as likely as not he would have
found his mouth full of dirt. And you can understand that that wouldn't
have been very pleasant.
As it was, his face was very dirty. But he never went back to his
mother's house until he had washed it carefully, just as a cat washes her
face.
Sometimes Sandy found stones in his way, down there beneath the pasture.
And those he had to push up, too. Sometimes a stone was too big to crowd
through the opening into the world outside. And then Sandy had to make
the opening bigger. After he had done that, and pushed the stone out upon
his dirt-pile, he would make his doorway smaller again by packing earth
firmly into it.
You must not suppose that when Sandy brought the loose dirt and stones up
through his doorway he left them there. Not at all! He pushed all the
litter some distance away. And whenever he turned, to scamper down into
his burrow again, he would kick behind him, as hard as he could, to
scatter the dirt still further from his new house.
After Sandy had made himself a chamber where he could sleep, and where he
could store enough food to last him throughout the winter, any one would
naturally imagine that his house was finished. But Sandy Chipmunk was not
yet satisfied with his new home. There was still something else that he
wanted to do to it.
V
MRS. CHIPMUNK IS GLAD
After Sandy Chipmunk had dug his chamber underneath Farmer Green's
pasture, he liked the _inside_ of his house quite well. But the looks of
the _outside_ did not please him at all. He wanted a neat dooryard. And
how could he have that, with that yawning hole through which he had
pushed earth and stones, which still littered the grass a little
distance away?
Luckily, Sandy knew exactly what to do. So he set to work to close the
big work-hole. It was no easy task--as you can believe. But at last he
managed to pack the hole full of dirt.
Then he had no door at all. And there he was in the dark, inside the
hall that led to his chamber and storeroom. But that did not worry Sandy.
You see, he knew just what he was about. And before long he had dug a new
doorway--a small, neat, round hole, which you would probably have walked
right past, without noticing it, it was so hard to see in the grass that
grew thickly about it.
You might think that at last Sandy's house was finished. But he was not
satisfied with it until he had made still another doorway, in the same
fashion. He knew that it was safer to have an extra door through which he
could slip out when some enemy was entering by the other one. Then Sandy
Chipmunk's house was finished. And he was greatly pleased with it.
But his work was not yet done. He had to furnish his chamber. So he began
to hunt about for dry leaves, to make him a bed. These he stuffed into
his cheek-pouches and carried into his house. But he didn't march proudly
up to one of his two doors. Oh, no! He reached it by careful leaps and
bounds. And when he left home again he was particular to go in the same
manner in which he had come.
It made no difference which of his doors Sandy used. He always came and
went like that, because he didn't want to wear a path to either of his
two doors or tramp down the grass around them. If he had been so careless
as to let people notice where he lived he would have been almost sure to
have enemies prowling about his house. And if a weasel had happened to
see one of Sandy's neat doorways he would have pushed right in, in the
hope of finding Sandy inside his house.
In that case the weasel would probably have pushed out again, with Sandy
inside _him_. So you can understand that Sandy Chipmunk had the best of
reasons for being careful.
After he had made a soft, warm bed for himself, Sandy set to work to
gather nuts and grain, to store in his house and eat during the winter.
He was particular to choose only well cured (or dried) food, for he knew
that that was the only sort that would keep through the long winter, down
in his underground storeroom.
He gathered other food, too, besides nuts and grain. Near Farmer Green's
house he found some plump sunflower seeds, which he added to his store.
Then there were wild-cherry pits, too, which the birds had dropped upon
the ground. All these, and many other kinds of food, found their way into
Sandy Chipmunk's home.
Much as he liked such things to eat--and especially sunflower seeds--he
never ate a single nut or grain or seed while he gathered them for his
winter's food. And when you stop to remember that he had to carry
everything home in his _mouth_, you can see that Sandy Chipmunk had what
is called self-control.
His mother had always told him that he couldn't get through a winter
without that. And so, when Sandy brought her to see his new home, after
it was all finished, and his bed was neatly made, and his storeroom full
of food, Mrs. Chipmunk was delighted.
"I'm glad to see--" she said--"I'm glad to see that all my talking has
done some good."
VI
SAMPLES OF WHEAT
There was so much said about Sandy Chipmunk's store of nuts and grain
that a few of the forest-people began to wish they had some of Sandy's
winter food for themselves. Uncle Sammy Coon, an old scamp who lived over
near the swamp, was one of those who began to plan to get Sandy's hoard
away from him.
It was the grain that Uncle Sammy wanted. If he had spent in honest work
one-half the time he used in planning some trickery he would have been
much better off. But he hated work more than anything else in the world.
Uncle Sammy Coon scarcely slept at all for several days, he was so busy
thinking about Sandy's grain. And since he always passed his nights in
wandering through the woods, he became almost ill.
The trouble was, Uncle Sammy was far too big to crawl inside Sandy's
house. And he knew that the only way he could get at the grain was to
persuade somebody to bring it outside for him.
At last he thought of a fine scheme. And as soon as it came into his head
he hobbled over to Sandy Chipmunk's home. I say _hobbled_, because Uncle
Sammy had a lame knee. He always claimed that he was injured in battle.
But almost every one knew that he hurt his knee one time when Farmer
Green caught him stealing a hen.
When he reached the pasture Uncle Sammy found Sandy Chipmunk just
starting away to hunt for nuts.
[Illustration: He Dropped the Grain in Front of Uncle Sammy]
"Good morning!" the old fellow said. He spoke very pleasantly, though he
was so sleepy that he felt disagreeable enough. "I've come over to buy
something from your store."
"My store!" Sandy Chipmunk exclaimed.
"Yes!" said Uncle Sammy Coon. "I've heard you have a store here with a
heap of nuts and grain to sell."
Now, it had never occurred to Sandy Chipmunk to _sell_ any of the food he
had gathered for the winter. But when Uncle Sammy put the idea in his
head Sandy rather liked it.
"I have a fine stock, to be sure," he said. "The nuts are specially good.
How many would you like to buy?"
But Uncle Sammy Coon told him he didn't want any nuts.
"I never eat them," he said. "It's grain that I want. And I'll buy as
much as you care to sell.... Bring a sample of it up here," he urged.
"I'd like to see if it's as good as people say."
So Sandy Chipmunk darted into his house. And soon he appeared again with
his cheek-pouches crammed full of wheat kernels.
"There!" he cried, when he had dropped the grain in front of Uncle Sammy.
"Just try a little of it! You'll agree with me that it's very fine."
Uncle Sammy not only tried a little. He gobbled up every single kernel.
"It seems to me to have a queer taste," he said. "Bring up some more!"
And Sandy scurried down into his house again, to bob up in a few moments
with another sample of his grain.
Once more Uncle Sammy ate it all.
"It's a bit damp," he remarked, as he smacked his lips. "I hope it's not
moldy.... You'd better let me see another sample."
Uncle Sammy declared the next heap of kernels to be altogether too dry.
And he kept ordering Sandy to fetch more for him to "taste," as he called
it. Some of the wheat he considered too ripe, and some too green. Some of
the kernels--so he said--were too little, and others too big. And finally
he even told Sandy Chipmunk that he was afraid Sandy was trying to sell
him _last year's_ wheat.
Now, Sandy knew that his wheat was fresh--all of it. So he went down and
brought up still another load.
Uncle Sammy ate that more slowly, for by this time he had had a good
meal.