The Wishing-Stone Stories

by Thornton W. Burgess

“What’s the matter with you?” demanded a voice. Tommy found that he had company. It was another meadow-mouse.

“I—I’ve had such a narrow escape!” panted Tommy. “A terrible creature with awful claws almost caught me!”

The stranger peeped out to see. “Pooh!” said he, “that was only a cat. Cats don’t know much. If you keep your ears and eyes open, it’s easy enough to fool cats. But they are a terrible nuisance, just the same, because they are always prowling around when you least expect them. I hate cats! It is bad enough to have to watch out all the time for enemies who live on the Green Meadows, without having to be always looking to see if a cat is about. A cat hasn’t any excuse at all. It has all it wants to eat without trying to catch us. It hunts just out of love of cruelty. Now Reddy Fox has some excuse; he has to eat. Too bad he’s so fond of meadow-mice. Speaking of Reddy, have you seen him lately?”

Tommy shook his head. “I guess it’s safe enough to go out now,” continued the stranger. “I know where there is a lot of dandy corn; let’s go get some.”

Tommy was quite willing. The stranger led the way. First he looked this way and that way, and listened for any sound of danger. Tommy did likewise. But the way seemed clear, and away they scampered. Right away Tommy was happy again. He had forgotten his recent fright. That is the way with little people of the Green Meadows. But he didn’t forget to keep his ears and his eyes wide open for new dangers. They reached the corn safely, and then such a feast as they did have! It seemed to Tommy that never had he tasted anything half so good. Right in the midst of the feast, the stranger gave a faint little squeak and darted under a pile of old cornstalks. Tommy didn’t stop to ask questions, but followed right at his heels. A big, black shadow swept over them and then passed on. Tommy peeped out. There was a great bird with huge, broad wings sailing back and forth over the meadows.

“It’s old Whitetail the Marsh Hawk. He didn’t get us that time!” chuckled the stranger, and crept back to the delicious corn. In two minutes, they were having as good a time as before, just as if they hadn’t had a narrow escape. When they had eaten all they could hold, the stranger went back to his old fence-post and Tommy returned to his own private paths and the snug nest he had built under the old board. He was sleepy, and he curled up for a good long nap.

When he awoke, the first stars were beginning to twinkle down at him from the sky, and Black Shadows lay over the Green Meadows. He found that he could see quite as well as in the light of day, and, because he was already hungry again, he started out to look for something to eat. Something inside warned him that he must watch out for danger now just as sharply as before, though the Black Shadows seemed to promise safety. Just what he was to watch out for he didn’t know, still every few steps he stopped to look and listen.

He found that this was visiting time among the meadow-mice, and he made a great many friends. There was a great deal of scurrying back and forth along private little paths, and a great deal of squeaking. At least, that is what Tommy would have called it had he still been a boy, but as it was, he understood it perfectly, for it was meadow-mouse language. Suddenly not a sound was to be heard, not a single squeak or the sound of scurrying feet. Tommy sat perfectly still and held his breath. He didn’t know why, but something inside told him to, and he did. Then something passed over him. It was like a Black Shadow, and it was just as silent as a Black Shadow. But Tommy knew that it wasn’t a Black Shadow, for out of it two great, round, fierce, yellow eyes glared down and struck such terror to his heart that it almost stopped beating. But they didn’t see him, and he gave a tiny sigh of relief as he watched the grim living shadow sail on. While he watched, there was a frightened little squeak, two legs with great curved claws dropped down from the shadow, plunged into the grass, and when they came up again they held a little limp form. A little mouse had moved when he shouldn’t have, and Hooty the Owl had caught a dinner.

A dozen times that night Tommy sat quite frozen with fear while Hooty passed, but after each time he joined with his fellows in merry-making just as if there was no such thing as this terrible feathered hunter with the silent wings, only each one was ready to hide at the first sign of danger. When he grew tired of playing and eating, he returned to his snug nest under the old board to sleep. He was still asleep there the next morning when, without any warning, the old board was lifted. In great fright Tommy ran out of his nest, and at once there was a great shout from a huge giant, who struck at him with a stick and then chased him, throwing sticks and stones, none of which hit him, but which frightened him terribly. He dodged down a little path and ran for his life, while behind him he heard the giant (it was just a boy) shouting and laughing as he poked about in the grass trying to find poor Tommy, and Tommy wondered what he could be laughing about, and what fun there could be in frightening a poor little meadow-mouse almost to death.

Later that very same morning, while he was hard at work cutting a new path, he heard footsteps behind him, and turned to see a big, black bird stalking along the little path. He didn’t wait for closer acquaintance, but dived into the thick grass, and, as he did so, the big, black bird made a lunge at him, but missed him. It was his first meeting with [Blacky the Crow], and he had learned of one more enemy to watch out for.