THE TALE OF
BENNY BADGER

SLEEPY-TIME TALES

THE TALE OF
BENNY
BADGER

BY

ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY

CONTENTS

THE TALE OF
BENNY BADGER

I

A GREAT DIGGER

Of course, Benny Badger had the best of reasons for living on the high, dry plains. There he had for neighbors plenty of ground squirrels and prairie dogs. And it is likely that he enjoyed their company much more than they did his.

If anyone had asked them, those little wild people would no doubt have confessed that they wished Benny Badger was somewhere else. But their wishes meant nothing to Benny—if he knew anything of them. Although he couldn't help noticing that his small neighbors hurried into their homes whenever they caught sight of him, Benny never took the hint and went away. On the contrary, when he spied a prairie dog or a ground squirrel disappearing into his burrow Benny was more than ready to go right in after him.

Now, the tunnels that led to the houses of those smaller folk were too small to admit anybody as bulky as Benny Badger. But that difficulty never hindered Benny. Digging was the easiest thing he did. He had a powerful body, short, stout legs, and big feet, which bore long, strong claws. And when he started to dig his way into somebody else's home he certainly did make the dirt fly.

He was so fond of digging that he even dug countless holes of his own, just for the fun it gave him—so far as anybody could find out. And if he had only left other folk's holes alone some of his neighbors would not have objected to his favorite sport. For more than one fox and coyote had been known to make his home in a hole dug by Benny Badger. And, though they never took the trouble to thank him for saving them work, they often chuckled about his odd way of having fun, and remarked among themselves that Benny must be a stupid fellow.

If they really thought that, they made a great mistake. To be sure, at anything except digging he was slow and awkward. He was too heavy and squat to be spry on his feet—to chase and catch his more nimble neighbors. But no one that knew much about Benny Badger would have said that his wits were dull. They were sharp. And so, too, were his teeth, which he never hesitated to use in a fight.

Left alone, Benny Badger—when he wasn't too hungry—was a peaceable person. But if a dog ever tried to worry him Benny had a most unpleasant way of seizing his annoyer with his powerful jaws and holding the poor creature as if he never intended to let him go.

Cornered, Benny knew no such thing as fear. He had the heart of a lion, and jaws like a steel trap. And no wise dog ever let Benny get a good, firm grip on him.

Usually no one saw Benny Badger except at night. He seldom left his den in the daytime except to sun himself. And even then not many noticed him. Though he did not hide when anyone surprised him while taking a sun-bath, he had a trick of lying flat in the grass without moving. And it took a sharp eye to spy him when he lay low in that fashion.

Curled up asleep, with his long fur on end, he looked too comfortable to disturb. At least, that was what the ground squirrels thought. And if one of those busy little fellows ever paused to stare curiously at Benny when he was having a nap in the warm sunshine, Benny Badger had only to awake and turn his head toward the onlooker to make him scamper for home as fast as he could go.

It was not Benny's face, either, that frightened the ground squirrels away, though everybody had to admit that he had a queer one. A black patch spread over his eyes and ran like the point of a V down his nose. For the most part, however, he was of a grayish color, with still more black running in streaks across his back. Underneath he was a—yes! a dirty white color. But then, one must remember that he was forever digging in the dirt; and there was very little water where he lived. Anyhow, he was particular enough about one thing: his long hair was always carefully parted in the middle from his head to his tail.

And certainly that ought to show that he tried to keep himself looking neat.

II

HUNTING FOR SOMETHING

It was a pleasant summer's night. Anyone would have supposed that it was just the sort of weather that Benny Badger might have chosen for digging holes. But he must have thought that he had dug enough holes for the time being. He wandered about as if he had lost a hole somewhere and couldn't find it. And whenever he spied a hole made by one of his smaller neighbors he stopped and looked at it closely.

But none of them seemed to be the one he was looking for. At least, Benny examined a good many holes, and then passed on again, before he came to one at last that was different from all the rest. If you could have seen the look of pleasure on Benny's odd face when he caught sight of this particular hole you would have known at once that his search had come to an end.

Now, as a matter of fact, Benny Badger had not lost a hole. His strange behavior did not mean that. It meant that he was searching for a fresh hole, which some ground squirrel had dug so short a time before that there couldn't be much doubt that the small owner was then living in it.

To be sure, Benny might have dug his way to the furthest end of each hole that he found that night. And doubtless he would have enjoyed such a pastime. But as for finding a plump ground squirrel at the end of every tunnel—ah! that would have been a different matter. No such pleasant sight would have greeted Benny's eyes. And on this evening he wanted to find some such reward when his digging came to an end.

He knew as well as he knew anything in the world that newly scattered earth never lay strewn about the doorway of an old hole.

And that was the reason he passed by so many holes with hardly more than a swift glance.

But when at length he found what he had been looking for—a hole with fresh brown dirt scattered carelessly around it—Benny Badger showed by every one of his actions that he didn't intend to move on until he had burrowed to the very end of it.

A broad smile lighted up his queerly marked face. At least, he opened his mouth and showed a good many of his teeth. And a bright, eager glint came into his eyes; whereas they had had a somewhat wistful look before, as if their owner might have been hungry, and didn't exactly know where he was going to find a meal.

Then Benny Badger looked all around, to see whether anybody might be watching him. But there was no one in sight. And if there had been, Benny Badger would have done no more than tell him that he had better run along about his business, because it would do him no good to wait—none at all.

And if the onlooker had happened to come so near as to bother Benny in what he intended to do, that unfortunate person might have wished that he had taken a bit of friendly advice in time, and made himself scarce.

But, of course, Benny Badger was not so foolish as to give any such warning, for there was no one there to hear it.

III

NO ONE AT HOME

Since there seemed to be nobody lurking in the shadows around him, and watching him, Benny Badger turned to the ground squirrel's hole and began to dig. How he did make the dirt fly! He scooped it up with his big feet and flung it back in a shower, not caring in the least where it fell. For he was interested not in what lay behind, but before him.

In almost less time than it takes to tell about it, Benny Badger had made the entrance of the tunnel so big that it swallowed his head and shoulders.

Now, when some people do anything they are forever stopping to see how much they have finished, as if they hated to work and wished that they didn't have to. But Benny Badger was not like them. He loved to dig. And instead of wishing that it wasn't far to the ground squirrel's chamber he kept hoping that it was a good, long tunnel, so that he might have plenty of fun digging his way to the end of it.

He didn't pause to look back at the pile of dirt he had thrown behind him. In fact, he didn't stop for anything—not even to take a long breath—until he noticed a sound that made him pause and listen for a few moments.

It was a yapping, growling noise that caught Benny Badger's ear—a noise that changed, while he listened, to a howl, and then suddenly ended as it had begun.

That call, coming as it did out of the night, would have frightened many people. Not knowing just what it was, they might have thought it sounded like the cry of a wolf. But Benny Badger showed not the least sign of fear. On the contrary, he seemed almost angry with himself because he had stopped even for a few moments to listen.

"Oh, fudge!" he said—or something a good deal like that. "It's nothing but a Coyote."

And then he went to digging faster than ever, to make up for lost time.

He hadn't been working long after that when Mr. Coyote's call made him back out of the hole and listen once more.

"Shucks!" said Benny Badger—or something like that, anyhow. "He's coming this way."

Anyone could have seen that Benny Badger was not pleased. But he continued his work just the same. And he made the dirt fly even more furiously than before, because he wanted to reach the end of the ground squirrel's tunnel before Mr. Coyote arrived on the scene.

It happened that Mr. Coyote was stalking slowly across the country in the moonlight, headed for no place in particular. So Benny Badger had time to burrow his way to the ground squirrel's bedroom without being interrupted.

And then Benny met with a sad disappointment. The owner of the burrow was not at home! Benny knew that he could not have been gone long, because the bed of dried grasses was still warm.

It was plain that Mr. Ground Squirrel had awakened and heard the sound of Benny Badger's digging. And there was no doubt that he had sprung up in a hurry and rushed out of his back door, while Benny made his way through the front one.

Benny Badger tried to console himself with the thought that anyhow he had had the fun of digging. But he was very hungry. And there was no supper in sight anywhere.

He was just about to renew his search for fresh ground squirrels' holes, when who should appear but Mr. Coyote himself, with a knowing smile upon his narrow face.

IV

MR. COYOTE SINGS

Benny Badger was not at all glad to see Mr. Coyote. And after Benny's ill luck, the smile upon Mr. Coyote's face made the disappointed digger feel almost peevish.

"What a beautiful evening it is!" said Mr. Coyote. "And what a fine night for digging!"

Benny Badger glared at the newcomer, making no attempt to hide his displeasure at seeing him.

"I don't notice you doing any digging," he remarked with a sneer. He had no use for Mr. Coyote, and he did not mind letting that tricky fellow know it, either.

But Mr. Coyote was not one to take a hint. If he knew he wasn't wanted anywhere, it never made the slightest difference to him. And when Benny as much as told him that he was too lazy to dig a hole, Mr. Coyote did not lose his temper even for a moment.

"No—I seldom dig," he replied. "I don't want to spoil your fun. If I went to work and dug and dug anywhere and everywhere there'd soon be nothing but holes, no matter where you went. You'd have no place to dig a hole yourself. And then you'd be pretty unhappy."

Benny Badger hadn't thought of that. And he didn't know just what to say, because if Mr. Coyote meant what he said, Benny wanted to say something pleasant; and if Mr. Coyote was only joking, Benny wanted to say something disagreeable. But before Benny had made up his mind how to reply to Mr. Coyote's remark, his noisy friend began talking again.

"Besides," Mr. Coyote added, "I haven't time for digging, because I have to practice singing.... If you don't mind, I'll practice a song right now."

And without waiting to find out whether Benny Badger did mind or not, Mr. Coyote began singing in the harshest of voices:

"How do you like that?" Mr. Coyote asked with a grin, when he had finished.

"Not very well!" said Benny Badger.

Mr. Coyote looked just the least bit crestfallen.

"Perhaps I haven't practiced the song as much as I should," he remarked. And thereupon he started to sing it again.

But Benny Badger stopped him quickly.

"Don't!" he cried. And he held his paws, dirty as they were, over his ears, as if he couldn't bear to hear that song another time.

Mr. Coyote smiled agreeably.

"I see," he said easily. "You don't enjoy music as I do. But I believe we have one taste in common."

"What's that?" Benny Badger asked him; for in spite of his paws being over his ears, he heard what Mr. Coyote said. "What's that?"

"Ground Squirrels!" Mr. Coyote replied, licking his chops as he spoke.

V

SPEAKING OF GROUND SQUIRRELS

Benny Badger stared none too pleasantly at Mr. Coyote. He didn't like his visitor. And he wished Mr. Coyote would go away.

But Mr. Coyote seemed to be in no hurry to leave. On the contrary, he appeared to have plenty of time to spare. And if he noticed the frown on Benny Badger's face, he certainly acted as if it were the most agreeable of smiles.

"We were speaking of Ground Squirrels——" he began with a smirk.

Benny Badger interrupted him quickly.

"We were not!" he snapped. "I haven't mentioned Ground Squirrels," he growled.

Mr. Coyote fell back a few steps.

"Well, I know you're interested in them, anyhow," he continued, trying to act as if he were quite unruffled by Benny's rudeness. "You can't deny that, for unless I'm mistaken, you've just caught one here." And his bright eyes twinkled, for he thought he "had" Benny Badger there, and it would be of no use for Benny to deny it.

"You are mistaken," Benny Badger grunted.

At that Mr. Coyote shot a swift look at him. Was that a shadow of disappointment about Benny's mouth?

"Did he get away from you?" Mr. Coyote inquired.

Benny Badger had to admit that that was exactly the case. He explained how he had found the Ground Squirrel's bed warm, but empty, when he reached the snug bedroom.

"I don't see how it happened," he told Mr. Coyote mournfully.

That crafty fellow gave a short laugh. He rather believed he knew where the trouble lay. And he said to himself—under his breath—that Benny Badger was even more stupid than he had supposed.

"Did you keep an eye on the Ground Squirrel's back door?" he inquired. And he was so amused by something or other that he began to giggle.

Benny Badger was afraid that Mr. Coyote was going to burst into song again. And he couldn't help shuddering.

"Are you going to sing?" he asked hastily.

"I hadn't intended to," Mr. Coyote answered. "But of course if you want me to——"

"No! no!" Benny cried. "Please don't!"

"Very well!" his musical friend replied. And then he returned to his question. "What about the back door? Did you watch it carefully?" he inquired.

"How could I?" Benny demanded, with a snort of anger. "I can't dig away at a Ground Squirrel's hole, with my head buried in it, and watch his back door at the same time. If I stopped digging, and went around to the back door, he'd be almost sure to run out through the front one. So I'd be no better off. In fact, I'd be worse off; for I'd lose not only the Ground Squirrel, but the fun of digging, too."

Mr. Coyote turned his head away and smiled a wide, wide smile. It was some moments before he could trust himself to speak without laughing right in Benny Badger's face.

"It's plain," he said at last, "that you need help. So I'm coming here every night to assist you in the business of catching Ground Squirrels."

VI

STRANGE PARTNERS

Mr. Coyote's plan for helping him catch Ground Squirrels did not please Benny Badger in the least. Up to that time he had always had fair luck hunting alone. And he said as much to Mr. Coyote, in none too friendly a tone.

Though Benny thought he had made his feelings plain enough, it seemed as if Mr. Coyote couldn't take a hint. So far was he from guessing that Benny did not care for his scheme that he even suggested that it might be a good idea if he brought a half dozen of his brothers along with him. He was very cheerful about the whole affair—was Mr. Coyote. Indeed, he appeared quite ready to arrange Benny Badger's business, without ever a "By your leave," or "If you don't mind."

But Benny Badger was no person to stand quietly by and let a scamp like Mr. Coyote spoil his whole life. He shook his head in a most obstinate fashion, giving his visitor fair warning not to go too far.

"For goodness' sake, don't bring any of your brothers here!" Benny Badger shouted. "I never could stand a crowd of your relations. It's bad enough to have to listen to your six brothers when they're half a mile away."

Mr. Coyote took no offence at that remark.

"Very well!" he replied. "No doubt they'd want to sing if they came here to help you. And certainly their singing would interfere with your digging—for of course you'd want to stop and listen to it."

Benny Badger's only comment sounded somewhat like "Humph!" But Mr. Coyote must have thought that Benny agreed with him. At least, he nodded his head. And he went on to say that he would be glad to help Benny alone, without calling on his brothers.

Benny Badger made no further objection. To be sure, having one of the Coyote family with him every night would be bad enough. But it was so much better than having seven of them that he began to feel almost pleased. Perhaps he was lucky, after all! And besides, he thought that when Mr. Coyote came to help him catch Ground Squirrels that good-for-nothing scamp would soon tire of digging.

And then a terrible uproar broke the silence. It sounded as if a hundred wolves—or maybe a thousand dogs—had fallen to quarreling a mile away, growling and howling in the distance.

As soon as he heard the noise Mr. Coyote pricked up his ears and sprang to his feet. "I must leave you now," he said. "There are my six brothers! They're going to have a sing. And I promised that I'd join them.... Don't forget!" he added, as he flung a sly smile in Benny Badger's direction. "I'll be here soon after dark to-morrow night."

And the next moment he was gone.

Benny Badger stood and watched him as he loped off across the moonlit plain. And not long afterward a terrific racket—twice as loud as the one before—made Benny bury his head in the place where he had been digging.

"Mr. Coyote has joined his six brothers," he said to himself.

VII

MR. COYOTE REMEMBERS

The next evening, just at dusk, Benny Badger left his den and set forth on his usual nightly ramble.

By way of exercise, and for the sake of the fun it gave him, and to improve his appetite, he dug a few holes. And by the time it was dark he was hungry as a bear and ready to look once more for fresh holes made by Ground Squirrels.

He had decided not to wait for Mr. Coyote to join him, before beginning his search. And he even hoped that Mr. Coyote had forgotten all about his promise to meet him and help him hunt.

But Benny Badger was to have no such good fortune as that. It was not long before he heard Mr. Coyote calling to him. And though he made no answer, thinking that Mr. Coyote might not be able to find him, in a few minutes that sharp-faced gentleman came bounding up at top speed.

"Here I am!" he cried, as soon as he spied Benny Badger. "I see you started out without waiting for me. You didn't think I'd disappoint you, did you?"

"I was afraid you wouldn't," Benny answered—a remark that Mr. Coyote seemed not to understand. For a moment or two he looked somewhat puzzled. But he decided, evidently, that Benny meant to be pleasant, but didn't know how to be.

"Now, then," Mr. Coyote said, while Benny Badger shuddered at his harsh voice, "now then, where do you think we'd better look for a hole?"

"For pity's sake, don't howl so loud!" Benny Badger besought him. "You'll waken all the Ground Squirrels in the neighborhood if you're so noisy."

"Pardon me!" said Mr. Coyote very meekly, lowering his voice, but promptly raising it again. "Do you know of any fresh holes around here?"

Benny Badger said that he didn't.

"Then you'd better hunt for one at once," Mr. Coyote declared, sitting down on his haunches as if he hadn't the slightest notion of doing any of the searching himself. "While you're looking, I'll sing a little song," he announced.

"You needn't trouble yourself to do that," Benny Badger told him hastily.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all, I assure you," Mr. Coyote replied.

"Well—don't you do it, anyhow," Benny warned him. "If you sing, you'll spoil everything, because I shall not be able to look for any hole."

"I see," said Mr. Coyote, looking more than pleased. "You'd want to stop and listen to me, of course."

"It's not that," Benny Badger corrected him. "I may as well tell you that I don't like your songs at all."

"I have some that you've never heard," Mr. Coyote explained.

"I don't want to hear them," Benny Badger informed him. "I may as well tell you that your songs drive me almost crazy."

It would not have been surprising if Mr. Coyote had flown into a great rage. But he did not. Instead, he pretended to wipe a tear away from each of his eyes. "It's a pity"—he sighed—"it's a pity that you don't understand music. Some time I will teach you to sing—with the help of my six brothers."

Benny Badger showed no joy over that promise. But he felt relieved when Mr. Coyote agreed not to sing that night. And then Benny set out alone to look for a fresh Ground Squirrel's hole, leaving Mr. Coyote with his face hidden in his pocket-handkerchief.

VIII

A WATCHER AND A WORKER

Benny Badger searched for some time before he found a Ground Squirrel's hole that looked as if its owner had finished it only a day or two before.

The place was so far from the spot where Benny had left Mr. Coyote that he did not believe he could call loudly enough for his helper to hear him.

For a few moments Benny thought that perhaps he ought to go back and tell Mr. Coyote that he had found a good place to dig. But he soon changed his mind.

"I'll just begin digging and say nothing," he remarked to himself. "And perhaps I can catch this Ground Squirrel without Mr. Coyote's help."

So he set to work. But he hadn't dug very far into the hole before he heard Mr. Coyote's voice close behind him. That sly fellow had been following him all the time.

"I hope the owner of this hole is at home," Mr. Coyote ventured.

At those words Benny Badger backed out of the hole and turned around.

"I'll let you dig a while," he said generously.

Mr. Coyote thanked him. But he answered that he couldn't think of accepting Benny Badger's offer.

"I know you would be disappointed not to do the digging yourself," he explained. "And besides, you're a better digger than I am. So I'll let you tear this tunnel open, while I go around to the back door and watch.... You know, I have a very sharp eye."

Benny Badger looked at Mr. Coyote narrowly. It occurred to him that both Mr. Coyote's eyes were very sharp. Furthermore, his nose was sharp, too. And so were his teeth. Yes! on the whole, Benny thought, Mr. Coyote appeared to be an exceedingly sharp person.

"Very well!" Benny told him at last. "I'll do the digging, gladly—for I need the practice that it will give me. You see, I haven't dug more than a half-dozen holes to-night."

Then he thrust his head into the opening he had already made. But before he had begun to throw more dirt behind him he pulled his head out again and called to his helper, who had moved a few steps away.

"If the Ground Squirrel comes out through his back door, please call me at once!" he cried.

Mr. Coyote nodded his head over his shoulder and smiled.

"I will," he agreed. "And I'll ask you not to forget to dig hard, because you know I'll be watching hard. And it wouldn't be fair for one of us to do less work than the other."

Benny Badger replied that in his opinion Mr. Coyote's statement was in every way reasonable.

And then he began to dig.

Benny would have made better time had he not stopped every few minutes to listen; for he did not want to miss hearing Mr. Coyote's call.

But his ears caught nothing more than a chuckle from the spot where Mr. Coyote sat on his haunches in the grass, watching.

"I can stand his chuckling—if only he won't sing!" Benny said to himself.

IX

A CARELESS HELPER

Stopping often to listen, Benny Badger did not reach the Ground Squirrel's chamber half as quickly as he could have had he done nothing but dig.

And when he thrust his nose into the underground bedroom he found nobody at home. The Ground Squirrel had fled, leaving his nest so warm that Benny Badger knew he could not have been gone long.

Benny turned away. But he was not so disappointed as he might have been, for he remembered that Mr. Coyote was watching the back door. And certainly no Ground Squirrel could escape his sharp eyes.

Hurrying as fast as his short legs would carry him, Benny joined Mr. Coyote, who still sat comfortably on his haunches.

To Benny's surprise, his helper's eyes were closed, instead of being fixed on the Ground Squirrel's back door.

"Have you seen anything of the Ground Squirrel?" Benny demanded anxiously.

Mr. Coyote started, and opened his eyes.

"Somebody came out a few moments ago," he replied. "But he disappeared in no time."

"That's too bad!" Benny Badger wailed. "He got away!"

"Are you sure?" Mr. Coyote inquired.

"Why, yes!" Benny cried. "It's as plain as the nose on your face."

"I won't dispute you," said Mr. Coyote.

"You'd better not!" Benny Badger snapped. "You have been very careless. I don't believe you watched carefully enough. When I came up just now you had your eyes shut."

"I won't dispute you," said Mr. Coyote again. He was most polite—so polite, in fact, that Benny Badger was ashamed to appear rude or quarrelsome.

But Benny couldn't help being disappointed over losing the Ground Squirrel. And when, after he had dug to the end of three more tunnels that night, the same accident happened three times more, he decided that something would have to be done. It was clear that Mr. Coyote's eyes were not sharp enough. He was not nearly so helpful as Benny had expected him to be. "We'll have to change about," Benny announced at last. "You must dig, while I watch."

But Mr. Coyote promptly made a number of objections to that plan. He said, with something quite like a sneer, that he had much sharper eyes than any member of the Badger family that ever lived, and that he was quicker than a hundred Badgers put together. And as if he hadn't given reasons enough for disagreeing with Benny, he declared that he simply couldn't do any digging that night because he had a sore paw.

To prove his statement, Mr. Coyote held up one of his paws for Benny to see.

Benny looked at it. He couldn't discover that it was any different from Mr. Coyote's three remaining paws. And he had just started to say so, too, when Mr. Coyote interrupted him with an enormous yawn.

"I'm getting sleepy," Mr. Coyote remarked. "It will be daylight before we know it. And I'm going home to take a nap."

So saying, he sprang up and stretched himself. And then he trotted off. But he stopped before he had gone far and looked back at Benny Badger.

"I'll be on hand to help you again after sunset," he said.

X

THE SORE PAW

Sure enough! Just as Mr. Coyote had promised, he was on hand the next night to "help" Benny Badger catch Ground Squirrels.

Benny regarded Mr. Coyote somewhat coldly, as the two met in the moonlight.

"How's your sore paw?" he asked Mr. Coyote.

Now, Mr. Coyote had just come trotting up without the least sign of lameness. But all at once he began to limp.

"My poor paw's no better," he told Benny, as a look of pain crossed his face.

"Let me see it!" Benny said.

And Mr. Coyote promptly held out one of his paws.

Benny Badger snorted. He seemed quite disgusted.

"This is not the same paw you showed me last night," he cried.

"My mistake!" said Mr. Coyote easily. And he pulled back that paw and thrust forth another.