MR. RABBIT HAS SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT THE MOON, DURING WHICH HE EXPLAINS THE SPOTS ON IT
This is the story that Mr. Jack Rabbit told to Mr. 'Coon and Mr. 'Possum when they sat together on the edge of the world and hung their feet over and looked at the moon. After Mr. 'Possum had finished his story, the Rabbit leaned back and swung his feet over the Big Nowhere awhile, thinking. Then he began.
"Well," he said, "my folks used to live in the moon."
"Humph!" said the 'Coon.
"Nonsense!" said the 'Possum.
"Yes," said Jack Rabbit, "they did. The moon is a world, away over on the other side of the Big Nowhere, and it doesn't stand still and stay top side up like this world, but keeps moving about and turning over, so that you have to look sharp and hang on tight to keep from falling off when it tips bottom side up, or is standing on its edge as it is to-night. My folks used to live there and Mr. Dog's folks used to live there, too. That was a long time ago, before Mr. Dog ever went to live with Mr. Man, and he was big and savage and had no more manners than he has now.
"My folks never could and never did get along with Mr. Dog's folks worth a cent, but they could mostly beat Mr. Dog's folks running, so they didn't have to associate with him unless they wanted to."
"USED TO HIDE AND WATCH FOR US."
"Of course Mr. Dog's family didn't like that, for they thought they were just as good as we were, and they used to hide and watch for us, and when we came by jump out and try to keep up with us for as much as two or three miles sometimes, just as Mr. Dog tried to keep up with me the other day, which you may remember."
The 'Possum and 'Coon grinned to themselves and nodded.
"Well," continued Mr. Rabbit, "there are some laws of etiquette—which means politeness—up there in the Moon, and they are very strict. The Old Man in the Moon makes these laws, and when one of them is broken he makes the one that breaks it just go right on doing whatever it is for nine hundred and ninety-nine years, and sometimes a good deal longer when it's a worse break than usual.
"Now the very strictest of all these laws used to be the one about Mr. Dog trying to keep up with our folks. It was called the 'Brush Pile law.' It didn't say that he couldn't keep up with us if he was able, but it did say that when we ran behind a brush pile, as we did sometimes, he must follow around the brush pile and never jump over it, no matter what happened. This was a hard law for Mr. Dog to keep, for he was mostly fat and excitable, and my folks would run around and around a brush pile, as much as a hundred times very often, and tire Mr. Dog so that he couldn't move. Then my folks would laugh and go home leisurely, while Mr. Dog would sneak off with his tongue hanging out till it dragged on the ground."
"MY TWENTY-FIRST GREAT-GREAT-GRANDFATHER COULD NOT RUN VERY FAST."
"Well, one day in the spring, when my family was out for an airing and a little sunshine, they got a good ways from home, and all of a sudden here comes Mr. Dog and his whole family, too. My folks didn't want anything to do with them, and set out for home in several directions, with Mr. Dog's folks following most all of them. My twenty-first great-great-grandfather was getting pretty old and couldn't run very fast, and there was a young, anxious looking dog named Leap quite close behind him. So the first brush pile he came to my relative paused and when Leap came around one way he went the other, and they kept that up until Leap got so mad and excited and worn out that he didn't care for the 'Brush Pile law' or anything else except my twenty-first great-great-grandfather, and all of a sudden he gave a great big bark and a high jump right straight over the top of the brush pile, and just that second the moon tipped up on its edge and all my folks and all Mr. Dog's folks came tumbling right down through the Big Nowhere to the earth, because they were all running and not holding on—all except Leap, who stayed right up in the air, according to law, and he has been there ever since.
"IT'S JUST AS PLAIN AS CAN BE."
"And when my folks and Mr. Dog's folks got down to the earth they were all so scared that my folks ran in one direction and Mr. Dog's folks ran in another. The dog family kept on running till they got to Mr. Man's house, and there they hid and stayed."
"And since that day," concluded Mr. Jack Rabbit, "there has never been any of our family in the moon, and Leap is the only dog there. He's still jumping over the brush pile because he broke the law, and you can see him there any clear night when the moon sits up on its edge as it does now. And that's what those spots are—a dog jumping over a brush pile. It's just as plain as can be."
The 'Possum and the 'Coon looked up at the full moon and said that the spots certainly did look a good deal like Mr. Dog jumping over a brush pile, but that the Rabbit couldn't prove his story any more than they could prove theirs, and that it wasn't any better story, if it was as good.
"Of course I can prove it," said the Rabbit. "There is an old adage about it, and you can prove anything by an old adage. It goes this way:—
"The longest way is often best—
Never jump over a cuckoo's nest.
"I don't know just why it says 'cuckoo's nest,' but I suppose cuckoos always used to build in brush piles in the moon, and maybe they do yet. Anyhow it proves it."
"Why, yes," said the 'Coon. "Sure enough!"
"That's so! It does!" said the 'Possum.