The Adventures of Diggeldy Dan

In Spangleland’s realm are many massive blue poles, and among the biggest of these are those that stand in the center of the menagerie tent. Between the bases of two of them is a broad, open space, and it was here all the animals were gathered at twilight on the day following that upon which had ended the tale of Gray Ears, the Elephant.

“And I’m sure all remember your very last words,” Lion was saying to Diggeldy Dan. “As I recall them they ran something like this: ‘For though my tale’s at an end we may safely depend that another will soon follow after.’”

“Exactly,” said Dan. “And now comes the question as to who’s to provide the next story.”

But, to the clown’s great surprise, not a single animal made answer.

“My goodness!” he cried, as he swung around on Hippo’s vast back the better to be able to face them, “do you mean to say that not one of you has thought of a story? Why, Mr. President, I am indeed astounded! I—”

“Aw, now, Dan, don’t be talking like that,” protested Monkey. “I know a lot of stories only I just can’t remember one right now.”

“And those I know are all so very old,” pleaded Great White Bear, while all the rest seemed ready to excuse themselves on much the same score.

“Well,” said Lion, “in view of all this, there seems to be but one thing to do and that is to put on our thinking caps and not take them off until each has thought of a story. So let us get down to business at once. Tiger, you will kindly come forward and stretch yourself on the ground. There—that is the way. Now, then, do you slowly wave your tail from one side to the other. Exactly. You, Dan, will keep count of the tail-waves until you have recorded exactly one hundred. And until that number is reached there’s not to be a word from a one of you. Instead, you are to keep silent and think. All ready now—go!”

At this word of command Tiger’s tail began to rise and to fall and Dan’s head to nod down and then up as he kept exact track of the waves of it. Quite at the same time all the others solemnly puckered their brows, half closed their eyes, or pillowed their chins as folks always do when they engage in deep thought.

Time passed.

Tiger’s tail floated up and down through the air.

Dan’s head continued to bob and to count.

Lion gazed about with so severe an eye that hardly an animal dared breathe. Not a sound broke the silence. And then, of a sudden—!

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Now the taps were not specially loud and, aside from that fact, there is, as a rule, nothing particularly unusual about an innocent tap, nor, for that matter, about two nor yet three of them.

But, in this case, you see—everything was so very still with even Monkey not so much as uttering a sound, that——

Tap! Tap! Tap!

There it was again!

And, oddest of all, it seemed to come from a point high over their heads.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

And at this you may be sure the business of thinking of stories was entirely forgotten. Instead, every ear was alert. It now seemed certain that the taps had come from the top of the biggest blue pole.

“Ahoy, whoever you are—what is it you want?” called Lion, as he directed his eyes and his voice toward that point in the roof where the pole passed through to the skies.

Tap! Tap! Tap! came the answer.

“Come in!” roared Lion, “Come in at once, whatever you are and wherever you are!”

“Let me skip up the side of the pole and see just what it can be,” cried Monkey.

But just at that moment there came a muffled voice from the roof—a voice that was something between a caw and a croak.

“Menagerie tent, Spangleland?” it called down.

“Yes, Mr. Voice, you are in Spangleland and this is the menagerie tent,” answered Lion. “And now if you will be so good as to come out of hiding—”

But even while Lion was speaking a movement was seen and with it appeared two very black feet. These were followed by the under side of an even blacker body; with a long, pointed beak coming after. And thus, bit by bit, there gradually emerged the whole of a crow of quite remarkable size.

Now those who gazed upward at this strange visitor were immediately struck by three most unusual things. In the first place their caller’s head was almost wholly concealed by a messenger’s cap that was much too large for him. Secondly, he walked down the side of the pole when to have flown would have been a far simpler way. And, thirdly, instead of showing some interest in his surroundings as he entered, he preferred to bury his nose in the crook of what must have been a most entertaining book. Indeed he did not once look up until he had set his feet on the ground. And then it was to find himself surrounded by all the animals.

“Lion, Lion—Mister Lion,” he inquired rather briskly as he tucked his book under one wing and scanned the many faces.

“At your service,” responded Lion as he stepped forward.

“Yes, sir, yes, sir—Message for you, sir,” and removing his cap with something of a flourish, the crow took a bit of folded paper from out the crown of it.

“Well, well!” exclaimed Lion as he opened the missive and glanced at its contents, “though addressed in my care it’s really for all of us.”

“Yes, but what is it?” cried the animals.

“Why, a message from the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes. Here is what she says:

“‘I and my White-White Horse will be quite near you at half-past twilight on the morrow. So please be at home, for it is very likely we will pay you a visit.

“Oh, hurrah, hurrah!” shouted all the animals in one breath while Dan clapped his hands with much glee.

“You are, indeed, a most welcome messenger,” remarked Lion, as he turned to where the crow had been standing. But, to his surprise, the somber chap in the cap was no longer there. Instead, he had perched himself on a wheel of Giraffe’s spacious home. Yes, there he sat, once more reading his book, and, in addition, was now slowly munching an apple.

“I say,” repeated Lion, “a most welcome messenger.” And this time he laid so much stress on the very last word that the crow jumped from the wheel in the greatest of haste.

“Yes, sir! Yes, sir!” he answered as he vainly tried to stuff both the book and the apple under one wing. “Calling a messenger, were you, sir?”

At which all the animals laughed so heartily that the crow looked quite confused and muttered something about “time to be going.”

“But not unless you are entirely ready to leave,” remonstrated Lion, “for I assure you that you are quite welcome to remain and finish your apple and your book, also, if you choose. You flew all the way from Sunset House, I presume?”

“Well, I should rather say not!” answered the crow, as he flipped his cap to one side with the toes of one foot. “What would be the fun of being a messenger-bird if one had to fly all the time?”

“Yes, but how do you manage it other-wise?” questioned Rhino.

“Why, jump a cloud and ride it. That’s the way I most always do. Just let my feet hang over the end and read my book until it’s time to hop off.”

“Of what do you read?” asked Lion.

“Oh, it’s one of those strange-people books,” answered the crow. “I like to read about people. They do such funny things, don’t they? Well, I must be getting up in the air and looking for a cloud that is going toward the west.” And he started hopping up the side of the very biggest pole.

“Please don’t go,” coaxed Ostrich. “Stay a while longer and tell us about the clouds. You have ridden a lot of them, haven’t you?”

“Oh, I guess a million trillion of them, at least,” said the crow in a superior sort of way. “But then I wouldn’t know what to tell you about them. You should ask the Pretty Lady if you want to know about clouds. She knows stories about most everything. Besides, I can’t spare the time just now.”

And with his beak once more buried in his book the bird from the west moved slowly upward toward the roof to finally disappear at that point where the pole passed through to the skies.

“What an odd individual,” said Puma. “I wish he had talked more. I warrant he could tell a lot of fine stories.”

“And we didn’t even learn his name!” exclaimed Emu.

“We must ask the Pretty Lady about him,” said Lion.

“Isn’t it fine that she’s coming to-morrow,” cried Zebra. “Perhaps she will tell us another story.”

“No doubt she will,” put in Diggeldy Dan. “But now our twilight’s last moments have come so we will bid one another farewell till to-morrow. And at the sign of the Petal Watch we will gather again to be ready to greet our golden-haired guest when she comes with her prancing steed from out of the west.”