And this is the way Puss, Jr., escaped from the wicked giant.
THE following day Puss, Jr., was trudging along near the edge of a forest. The land was rather low and marshy, and the path was none too dry. He gingerly picked his way, avoiding as well as possible the muddy spots. Of a sudden his attention was arrested by a funny sight.
A few feet in front of him, as he rounded a curve in the path, was a frog. On his head rested a large stove-pipe hat, much worn and weather-beaten. A large cigar was in his mouth, on which he puffed away vigorously, the clouds of smoke streaming out behind him like a long gray feather.
"Hello, Mr. Rowley!" cried Puss.
The frog turned. Taking the cigar out of his mouth, he answered, "How do you know my name?"
"Just a good guess of mine, perhaps," replied Puss. "But, anyway, there's a famous Mr. Rowley in Mother Goose, so I took a chance."
"Well, I don't want you to try to stop me," said Rowley, "for I had enough fuss when I left home. You see, my people didn't want me to go at all."
"Then why did you?" asked Puss, who by this time had come up to the frog.
"Because I was tired to death of the old pond," replied Rowley. "One has got to see the world some time, and when one is young is the time and not when one is old."
"Yes, 'every dog must have his day,'" quoted Puss.
"And every frog, too," answered Rowley, pushing his high hat down on his head more securely and replacing the cigar between his lips.
"And where are you going?" asked Puss.
"Well, then, Anthony!" cried Puss, taking the frog by the arm, "let us be comrades. For it is lonesome business, this traveling alone, and I would have a good friend to talk to while we trudge along."
"But I already have a companion," answered Mr. Rowley. "Don't you remember the second verse in Mother Goose?"
"Not exactly," replied Puss, Jr.
"Well, this is the way it goes," answered the frog. "It's describing me, of course."
At that moment the rat jumped out of the bushes. "Don't be afraid," said Puss, Jr.
"All right," replied the rat, "I sha'n't."
"Glad to have seen you both," said Puss, Jr. "I can't tarry long, for I must continue my journey."
IT was near nightfall. Puss, Jr., was weary and footsore, for he had traveled far. No one had given him a thing to eat all day, and he was faint from want of food. Darkness was coming upon him and he looked about him to find a place to sleep.
In the distance a little light caught his eye, and, hastening his steps toward it, he soon came to a small cottage. Looking through the open door, he was surprised to see resting on the floor a small brass candlestick. It was the flame from this that had attracted his attention and drawn his weary feet forward.
Over the candlestick leaped a small boy, and with a laugh turned toward the open door.
"Can you jump over a lighted candlestick?" he asked.
"I never tried," said Puss, "but I guess I can."
"Don't singe your tail!" cried Jack, as Puss prepared himself for the jump.
"Don't worry," replied Puss, Jr. "I think too much of my tail to spoil one single little hair."
Gathering himself together, Puss jumped nimbly over the candle.
"Good for you!" cried the little boy.
"Oh, that's nothing," replied Puss. "I once belonged to a circus."
"You did?" cried the little boy. "Tell me about it."
"Well," said Puss, "there isn't much to tell. I was walking along one day and came up to a big tent. A man asked me if I would not like to join, and I said yes."
"What did you do?" asked the little boy.
"Oh, I rode a horse around the ring. I jumped through hoops covered with tissue-paper, and I never slipped off. It was pretty good fun," sighed Puss, Jr. "But, dear me, I'm so hungry! Can't you get me some milk?"
"Of course I can," replied the little boy; "you just sit down and see that the candle doesn't blow out, and I'll run and tell mother." In a few minutes he returned, followed by a motherly-looking woman.
"Why, it's Puss in Boots!" she said.
"No, madam," replied Puss; "but I'm his son, and have been these many months trying to find my dear father."
"And you haven't found him yet?" said the good woman.
"No, not yet," replied our little hero, "but I hope to very soon."
"Well, you shall have a good supper," said the kind woman, "for my little boy tells me you are hungry."
In a few minutes Puss was eating a hearty supper, and then he followed the little boy up to his bedroom, where they both slept soundly all night long after mother had blown out the light.
Old King Cole was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he;Cole Castle was a very magnificent one. Puss looked up at the great walls and sighed. "I wish I would find my dear father here, but I suppose I won't."
"No, you won't," cried a voice, and one of the three fiddlers poked his head out of a window and laughed loud and long. "There are no cats in this castle."
"No cats allowed here," cried the third fiddler, appearing at the postern gate.
Puss, Jr., almost felt like crying. "Did you ever hear of Puss in Boots?" he asked.
"Certainly," replied all three fiddlers at once, "but he doesn't live here. No cats do. We make all the noise in this castle. You don't think for a moment Old King Cole could stand any more noise, do you?"
"My father wouldn't make any noise," replied Puss, Jr., indignantly.
"I never heard of a cat that didn't," said one of the fiddlers.
"All cats make an awful noise at night," said another.
"They meow and cry like everything on the back fence," said the third fiddler. "They make more noise than a fiddle, and a worse noise than a fiddle out of tune."
"I don't like you," said Puss. "People who don't like cats are not to be trusted."
"Ha, ha!" laughed all three fiddlers, "you're jealous of us!"
"Not the least," replied Puss, stoutly. "I'm not jealous at all. I'm just indignant that you should make such a remark about my family."
"No harm meant," said the three fiddlers, "no harm meant, my good Sir Cat."
"Very well, we won't argue the matter," said Puss, "for a traveler has no time to argue if he would reach his journey's end. Time is precious, and I must be on my way. Only let me tell you, I have heard many a fiddle that made a worse noise than a cat," and with this parting remark our little hero continued on his way.
WHAT a lovely old mill!" thought Puss, Jr. "Is that your 'hush-a-by baby upon the tree-top'?" he asked the miller on entering the old mill.
"No, sir-ee!" answered the jolly miller, with a jolly laugh. "Haven't you ever heard the song about me? This is the way it goes:
"Doesn't anybody care for you?" asked Puss. "It seems strange, for you are so jolly."
"Well," answered the miller, "you see, it's this way: I am here all alone all day; there's no room in the mill except for me and the sacks of corn. It all belongs to me, even the old willow-tree. I let a little woman who lives quite near here hang the cradle on the limb every morning. As she goes to work in the village, she puts her baby in the cradle and the wind rocks it to sleep until she comes back at noon. Then she goes away again and comes back at evening and takes the cradle home with her. The baby is very good; that is, it has been so far; but you can never tell how long a baby will be good."
"That's true of every one," said Puss, with much gravity.
"If it ever starts crying—that is, a long crying spell, she'll have to get another willow-tree or another baby. I can't be bothered with a crying baby so close at hand."
"But you haven't answered my question yet," said Puss.
"Oh," replied the miller. "You mean because I care for nobody and nobody cares for me."
"Yes; I don't quite understand it."
"Come inside and I'll explain it to you," said the miller.
Puss walked inside and sat down on a bag of flour. "All I do is to grind corn for people," continued the miller, sitting down on a dusty stool. "They bring their corn in to be ground and then they leave. When they come back the corn is ready for them,—that is, the flour. They take it away and I'm left all alone. So what do I do? Well, I make friends with a little mouse and a big rat that live in the old mill." As he spoke the little mouse ran out of her hole and sat down by the miller. "We are great friends, aren't we, mousie?" he said.
The little mouse squeaked, "Yes, Mr. Miller."
Then the big rat came out and sat down by the miller, only on the other side.
"Aren't we great friends?" asked the miller.
The rat said, "You are the best friend I have." At which the miller smiled and Puss grinned.
"Animals make good friends," said the miller.
"Yes, indeed," replied Puss, "but rats and mice are so destructive. They eat your corn."
"Not much," said the miller; "only a little bit."
"We only eat what we need," said the mouse and the rat in chorus.
PUSS, JR., was very much interested in the jolly miller and his two small friends, the rat and the mouse. It seemed strange to Puss that a miller should have two such friends as these. But when he thought it over he saw there was much reason to the miller's words.
At the time the miller was talking the mouse and the rat kept a close watch on Puss, Jr. They knew from experience, most likely, that cats are not millers, and although Puss, Jr., with his boots and cap, his clothes and staff, did not resemble an ordinary cat, at the same time he was a cat. So the rat and the mouse kept at a safe distance.
"Tell your little friends," said Puss to the jolly miller, "that I won't hurt a hair of them."
"Mousie," said the miller, leaning over and patting the little mouse, "Sir Cat says he will not harm a hair of your tiny head."
"That's very kind of him," replied the little mouse in a squeaky voice.
The rat made the same answer when the miller patted him.
Just then the mother of the baby who was in the cradle on the tree-top came by. She smiled at the miller, who took off his rusty, dusty cap. "There she goes," he said to Puss. "She's going to take the cradle down now. She'll take 'cradle, and baby, and all' home with her."
Puss stepped to the doorway to watch her. First she stood on tiptoe and looked into the cradle. Then she smiled and leaned over and kissed the baby, who began to crow and clap his hands. After she had kissed him many times she lifted him out of the cradle and danced him up and down on her knee. As she danced him gently up and down, she sang:
Then she laid the baby over her shoulder and, picking up the cradle, started off for home.
"Let me carry the cradle for you," said Puss, Jr., running out of the mill.
"That would be a great help," she replied, "for baby is getting very heavy, and mother has been working hard all day."
So Puss put the cradle on his shoulder and, bowing to the miller, followed after her, while the baby kicked and crowed and tried to reach down and pull his whiskers. And Puss tickled the baby's hand and winked at the baby, who gurgled and laughed and tried to pull the feather out of Puss, Jr.'s, cap. And the little mother forgot all about her own weariness, for baby lay so warm against her neck and his laugh tinkled so sweetly in her ear!
Jockety jog, jockety jog!
Over the hills, and over the bog."Are you really?" exclaimed Puss, Jr., looking up into the face of the old white horse. "And is your name 'Naggetty Nogg'?"
"Yes, that's my name," replied the old horse. "You see, every horse is a nag. So in some way or another they got to calling me 'Naggetty,' and then, after a while, they added on the 'Nogg.'"
"Yes, every one has at least two names," replied Puss, "and it is natural that you should have two, just like everybody. I like the name 'Naggetty Nogg' very much. It's quite fine."
"It sounds 'horsy' all right," he answered, giving his tail a sweep to brush off some flies that had settled on his side. "It sounds real horsy."
"And it fits you perfectly," said Puss. "You couldn't have chosen a better name."
"But I didn't choose it," replied the old horse, quickly; "it was given to me. You see, my master and I start out early every morning. First we go to the farm to get the milk. It's so early in the morning that it's quite dark sometimes—that is, in the winter-time. The farmer comes out and opens the milk-house door with his key. The milk is all kept in great big pans in long rows. It's very cool inside, for the milk-house is built over a spring that bubbles away all the time, running out of the old stone milk-house down to the meadows, where the cows drink it and the little fish swim in it. I know, because one time when my right forefoot was hurt they put me out in the meadow and many a good drink I've had from that same little brook. The bottom is all bright little stones, and the ferns hang over the edge of the bank, and the little birds hop down and drink. Oh, it's very pleasant out there in the meadow. I sometimes wish my old foot would go lame again so that I might enjoy the green grass and the cool breezes. But that wouldn't do at all. My master would lose money. He would have to hire another horse. And then, too, I would miss the mothers who come out to get the nice fresh milk from my master. Sometimes they have a baby in their arms and two or three small children hanging on to their skirts. And they always pat my nose and say:
"'How is old Naggetty Nogg to-day?' Sometimes I get a lump of sugar, too."
"You make me wish that I could drive a milk-wagon," said Puss, Jr., with a sigh. "I'd like to be a milkman if I had a Naggetty Nogg to drive."
WHAT is your master's name?" asked Puss, Jr., as the old white milk-horse paused in his story.
"That's a blessing," said Puss, Jr. "I've seen so many poor horses whipped. It's a shame that a man can hurt a horse."
"Yes, a horse is a man's most faithful friend," replied old Naggetty. "He works for him all the time."
"Don't you get tired?" asked Puss.
"No-o-o," replied the old horse, "not very tired. You see, when we start out we have the cans full. So we go very slowly so as not to churn the milk or spill it. If we went too fast the tops of the cans might fly off. Then on our way home, when all the milk has been delivered and all the hungry little children have had all they can drink, we come along at a good clip. The cans bump and make a most cheerful noise. And every step is nearer home, where my supper of oats is waiting for me, and my good master's supper is waiting for him."
"I'd like to climb up into your wagon and go home with you," said Puss. "Do you suppose your master would object?"
"You can ask him," replied the old horse. "But you mustn't climb up until you do."
"Certainly not," replied Puss, indignantly. "I wouldn't take such a liberty. Tell me more about him." The old horse whisked his tail and commenced:
The old horse paused. "I was thinking of a dark night some time ago. The moon was hidden behind the clouds and not a star was to be seen. We had gone a long ways out of our usual track, for my master had heard of a poor woman who had a sick baby, and he said he must take her some fresh milk. When we started back for home it was already pretty dark, but I knew the road. My master left it all to me. He just let the reins hang down over the dashboard and gave me my head. So I kept along, taking good care not to stumble. The tin cans bumped and banged together and the wheels creaked over the rough places. Master began to sing his favorite song:
Solomon Grundy,
Born on a Monday,Puss, Jr., stood before a little shop. In the window was this sign. "Too bad," said Puss to himself; "he had such a nice little store."
"He did that!" cried a voice. Puss looked up and saw a little old woman. On her head was a queer green bonnet and over her shoulders hung a faded red shawl. "Are you Mrs. Grundy?" asked Puss. For some reason he felt sure it was, so he was not at all surprised when she answered yes.
"And do you still run the little shop?" he asked.
"Yes, my good Sir Cat," she replied, "and I have a very fine pair of red-topped boots which I would like to sell you."
"I guess I need a new pair," said Puss, Jr., looking down at his own. There was a big hole in the toe of one and the other was minus a heel.
"Walk in," said little old Mrs. Grundy, "and you may try them on." Puss followed her into the store and sat down. Mrs. Grundy climbed up a little step-ladder and took down a box from the top shelf. "This pair of boots," she said, "was made once upon a time, very long ago, for a very famous cat whose name was Puss in Boots."
At these words Puss, Jr., jumped off his seat and threw his paws around Mrs. Grundy.
"Gracious me!" she cried, "what are you doing?"
"Oh, my dear madam," cried Puss, "the famous cat you mention is my father—I am Puss in Boots, Junior."
"Is that possible?" exclaimed Mrs. Grundy, letting the box fall with a bang to the floor. "Is that possible? I'm so glad that I saved these boots all these years. And to think that his son will wear them," she added, sitting down in her excitement.
"But I don't care much about the boots!" cried Puss, Jr. "I want so badly to find my father. Can't you tell me where he lives?"
Mrs. Grundy looked puzzled. "I did know, my little friend," she replied, "but I have clean forgotten now. Indeed I have," she added, in a sympathetic voice, seeing how disappointed poor little Puss looked.
"Just the same, I will pay you well for the boots," said Puss, Jr., "and be on my way at once. One never can tell what each day may bring, and I might find my father, although it grieves me to think you have forgotten just where he lives."
If I'd as much money as I could spend
I never would cry old chairs to mend;"Well, what would you do?" asked Puss, Jr., coming up to the funny little man who was singing this song as he journeyed along over the roadway down the hill, across the bridge to the creaking mill.
"I'd buy a little house and a little cow and a little pig, and I'd live all the days of my life as happy as could be," replied the funny little man.
"That wouldn't take such an awful lot of money," replied Puss. "You said in your song if you had 'as much money as you could spend.' I should think that would mean a big castle and a big automobile and a big yacht, and, and—"
"I couldn't spend more than a little, for I've never had much practice in spending," answered the funny little man.
Before Puss could make reply they crossed the bridge and found themselves opposite the old mill. In the doorway stood the miller all covered with flour. His hat was dusty, too; even his hair and eyelashes were white with the dusty flour.
"Any old chairs to mend?" asked the funny little man.
"I have a stool here that has lost a leg," replied the miller, "and an old clock that has lost a hand, and my wife has a pitcher that has lost a mouth and a needle that has no eye. Can you mend them all?"
"You'd better call in the doctor," said the funny little man; "he's the person you want."
"Ha, ha!" roared the miller, "I was only joking."
"So was I," answered the little man. "Give me the stool. I will heal that patient first, then will see about the others."
The miller presently brought out the injured stool, and while it was being mended he and Puss, Jr., had a talk.
"Yes," said the miller as Puss seated himself on a sack of flour, "I'm a busy man. It's grind, grind all day long. Red corn and yellow corn and white corn from the cribs of the farmers. From the fields to my mill, and then from here to the baker or the kitchen, and then into cakes for little children. The big wheel goes round and round all day long and the water splashes and gurgles as it turns it. And then I tie up the sacks after they are well filled, and then the wagon comes and takes them away. Every day the same thing, year in and year out."
"It's nice and cool," said Puss, "and the flour smells sweet, and it's home, you know. I'm a little tired with my long journey and wish I could find my dear father."
"Cheer up," said the miller. "You'll find him soon, I'm sure of that."
It was a merry time,
When Jenny Wren was young,While on his journey Puss, Jr., paused to listen to this sweet song. On a branch above him sat Robin Redbreast. With his hat held in one claw he bowed most beautifully to a little wren that sat on a limb just below him. "I'll dress you like a goldfinch," repeated Robin, swinging his beautiful green hat with its long black feather up and down in the breeze.
"I'd like to buy her a beautiful gold dress," said Robin Redbreast, turning to look at Puss, Jr., who stood very quietly at the foot of the tree.
"I think her little russet gown is much nicer," replied Puss. "To tell you the truth, she wouldn't look very much like a wren if you dressed her like a goldfinch."
"Of course I wouldn't," chirruped little Jenny Wren; "and, besides, I wouldn't feel at all like myself. I might think Robin had married a goldfinch instead of me; and I don't want to think that."
"Of course you don't," said Puss, kindly.
"You are both right," said Robin Redbreast. "I only thought for the moment that she would like a different gown, but she shall have her way. There is only one little bird in the world for me, and that is Jenny Wren."
Jenny hid her face behind her fan, for she was I blushing very hard. Indeed, her cheeks were I almost as red as Robin's breast.
"To-morrow, then, shall be our wedding-day," said Robin, "and you are invited, my dear Puss, Junior."
Robin rose up early,
Before the break of day;Puss, Jr., was also up bright and early. He carefully polished his red-top boots and dusted his cap with the long feather in it. Then he started out for the woods.
"Cock-a-doodle-do!" cried the rooster.
"How do you doodle-do, my noble Sir Chanticleer?" asked Puss, bowing. "I am on my way to Cock Robin's wedding; he has given me an invitation," he added, as the rooster stopped crowing to listen.
A little squirrel ran down from his tree and stood upright on his hind legs as Puss came to the edge of the woods. "Follow me," said Puss. "There is to be a fine wedding in your forest city this morning." So the little squirrel ran after Puss.
Presently they came to a little pond. On a big log sat a very friendly-looking old bullfrog. "Ker-chunk, ker-chunk!" he cried.
"Get off your log and come with us," said Puss, Jr. "There is to be a grand wedding in the woods."
The bullfrog jumped off his log into the water with a great splash and swam to the shore. Scrambling up the bank, he followed Puss and the squirrel. The three had only gone a little ways when they came to a chipmunk.
"Hello, Chip!" cried the little squirrel. "Don't you want to join us?"
"Where are you going?"
"To a wedding," said Puss, Jr.
"All right," said the chipmunk, and he ran up and joined Puss, Jr.'s, little party. After going for some distance they came to a brook.
"How shall we get across?" asked Puss, Jr.
"I'm all right," said the bullfrog. "I'll swim." And with a beautiful dive he landed in the middle of the stream and swam away to the other bank.
"I wish my boots were rubber," said Puss. "I might wade across and carry you two on my back."
While they were wondering what to do, a muskrat swam up to the bank and said: "Why don't you walk over Beaver Dam? It's only a little distance from here."
"Will it be perfectly safe?" asked the little squirrel, timidly.
"Certainly, my dear friends," replied the muskrat. "You run along the bank and I'll show you the way."
So Puss and his small comrades followed the little muskrat till they reached Beaver Dam.
PUSS, JR., continued on his way with his small comrades, the squirrel, the old bullfrog, the chipmunk, the muskrat, the beaver (who had joined them without being asked after they had paid him for crossing his dam), and the timid little rabbit. Presently they saw in the distance the wedding procession of Cock Robin and Jenny Wren.
"Let us make haste," cried Puss, Jr., "or we shall be late."
"Please don't go so fast," begged the old bullfrog. "I'm a very poor walker."
"Here, climb up on my back," said the squirrel. "You can lean against my tail. It will keep you from falling off."
This helped matters a great deal, and our little friends moved forward at a good pace. The old bullfrog was also much relieved. He was pretty tired and every once in a while gasped for breath. He was not too weary, however, to catch several flies on the way, and he winked quite solemnly at Puss, who grinned in return. As they neared the wedding procession they heard the lark singing.
"I think he is," whispered Puss, Jr., to the squirrel.
"Ker-chunk," said the old bullfrog, "he has a fine red vest. I always like white waistcoats, though," he added, looking down at his own; "but then, you know, everybody doesn't like the same thing."
ALL the birds of the forest seemed to be at the wedding of Cock Robin and little Jenny Wren, as Puss, Jr., and his little friends sat down beneath a big tree. The little squirrel cuddled up to Puss, while the chipmunk sat close by. The muskrat and the beaver stood near at hand, while the rabbit and the old bullfrog, who had climbed off the squirrel's back, looked out from behind the tree trunk. They were the most timid of all, so they hid behind the tree.
All the birds were singing as sweetly as could be. It was certainly very beautiful wedding music. Perhaps the most exquisite strains came from
Just then Parson Rook looked over at them. "Why, Puss in Boots, Junior!" he called out. "Come over here," and, turning to the wedding guests, he said: "There is the son of the famous Puss in Boots. We are honored to have so illustrious a person with us. And delighted, too, for he is a great traveler and a jolly good fellow."
Puss, Jr., arose and bowed.
"Bring your little friends with you, also," said Parson Rook, "for all the forest folk are welcome. Who is there more loved, I would like to know, than Robin Redbreast and little Jenny Wren?"
"Nobody!" croaked the old bullfrog.
"No one," said Puss, Jr.
"We all love Robin and Jenny," cried the squirrel and the chipmunk.
"And so do I," "And so do I," cried the beaver and the rabbit together. As they finished the birds began to sing the wedding-march.