The Wishing-Stone Stories

by Thornton W. Burgess

Tommy doubted it, but he obediently trotted along at the heels of Mother Mink out onto the Green Meadows. Presently they came to a tiny little path through the meadow grasses. Mother Mink sniffed in it and Tommy did the same. There was the odor of meadow-mouse, and once more Tommy’s mouth watered. He quite forgot about the fish. Mother Mink darted ahead and presently Tommy heard a faint squeak. He hurried forward to find Mother Mink with a fat meadow-mouse. Tommy smacked his lips, but she took no notice. Instead, she calmly ate the meadow-mouse herself.

Tommy didn’t need to be told that if he wanted meadow-mouse he would have to catch one for himself. With a little angry toss of his head he trotted off along the little path. Presently he came to another. His nose told him a meadow-mouse had been along that way recently. With his nose to the ground he began to run.

Other little paths branched off from the one he was in. Tommy paid no attention to them until suddenly he realized that he no longer smelled meadow-mouse. He kept on a little farther, hoping that he would find that entrancing smell again. But he didn’t, so he stopped to consider. Then he turned and ran back, keeping his nose to the ground. So he came to one of those little branch paths and there he caught the smell of meadow-mouse again. He turned into the little branch path and the smell grew stronger. He ran faster.

Then his quick ears caught the sound of scurrying feet ahead of him. He darted along, and there, running for his life, was a fat meadow-mouse. Half a dozen bounds brought Tommy up with him, whereupon the mouse turned to fight. Now the mouse was big and a veteran, and Tommy was only a youngster. It was his first fight. For just a second he paused at the sight of the sharp little teeth confronting him. Then he sprang into his first fight.

The fierce lust of battle filled him. His eyes blazed red. There was a short sharp struggle and then the mouse went limp and lifeless. Very proudly Tommy dragged it out to where Mother Mink was waiting. She would have picked it up and carried it easily, but Tommy wasn’t big enough for that.

After that Tommy went hunting or fishing every day. Sometimes the whole family went, and such fun as they would have! One day they would hunt frogs around the edge of the Smiling Pool. Again they would visit a swamp and dig out worms and insects. But best of all they liked to hunt the meadow-mice.

So the long summer wore away and the family kept together. But as the cool weather of the fall came, Tommy grew more and more restless. He wanted to see the Great World. Sometimes he would go off and be gone two or three days at a time. Then one day he bade the old home good-by forever, though he didn’t know it at the time. He simply started off, following the Laughing Brook to the Great River, in search of adventure. And in the joy of exploring new fields he forgot all about home.

He was a fine big fellow by this time and very smart in the ways of the Mink world. Life was just a grand holiday. He hunted or fished when he was hungry, and when he was tired he curled up in the nearest hiding-place and slept. Sometimes it was in a hollow log or stump. Again it was in an old rock-pile or under a heap of brush. When he had slept enough, he was off again on his travels, and it made no difference to him whether it was night or day. He just ate when he pleased, slept when he pleased, and wandered on where and when he pleased.

He was afraid of no one. Once in a while a fox would try to catch him or a fierce hawk would swoop at him, but Tommy would dodge like a flash, and laugh as he ducked into some hole or other hiding-place. He had learned that quickness of movement often is more than a match for mere size and strength. So he was not afraid of any of his neighbors, for those he was not strong enough to fight he was clever enough to elude.

He could run swiftly, climb like a squirrel, and swim like a fish. Because he was so slim, he could slip into all kinds of interesting holes and dark corners, and explore stone and brush piles. In fact he could go almost anywhere he pleased. His nose was as keen as that of a dog. He was always testing the air or sniffing at the ground for the odor of other little people who had passed that way. When he was hungry and ran across the trail of some one he fancied, he would follow it just as Bowser the Hound follows the trail of Reddy Fox. Sometimes he would follow the trail of Reddy himself, just to see what he was doing.