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ADVENTURE XI
NURSE MIKKO
The Wolf’s wife gave birth to three little cubs and then died.
“You poor children!” Pekka said, “your mother is dead and there is no one to take her place. I must get you a nurse.”
So he went through the forest hunting some one to take care of his motherless cubs. The white Grouse offered her services but, when she sang a lullaby to show what a good nurse she could be, Pekka shook his head.
“I don’t like your voice,” he said. “I can’t take you.”
Then Jussi, the Hare, applied for the position.
“You know I’m lame,” he said, “so quiet work like nursing would suit me.”
“Can you sing lullabies?” Pekka asked.
“Oh, yes! Listen!” and Jussi began squealing.
“Stop!” Pekka cried. “I don’t like your voice either.”
Just then Mikko, the Fox, came running up.
“Good day, Pekka,” he said. “I hear you’re out looking for a nurse for your sweet babies.”
“Yes, Mikko, I am. Can you recommend one?”
“I’d like the job myself,” the Fox said.
“You, Mikko?”
“Yes.”
“But you can’t sing lullabies, can you?”
“Oh, yes! I sing them very beautifully. Listen:
‘Hushabye, sweet little cubs,
Hushabye to sleep!
Who best loves you, do you think?
Who will give you food and drink?
Who on faithful guard will keep?
Mikko! Mikko!
‘Hushabye, sweet little cubs,
Mikko loves you well,
Loves each little pointed nose,
Loves your little scratchy toes,
Loves you more than he can tell —
Mikko! Mikko!’”
Pekka, the Wolf, was charmed with Mikko’s lullaby.
“Beautiful! Beautiful!” he said. “I never heard a sweeter lullaby! You’re the very nurse I want! Come home with me at once.”
So Mikko went home with Pekka and took over the care of the three little Wolf cubs.
“I’ll go off now and get them something to eat,” Pekka said.
He came back after a while with the hind leg of a horse.
“This will be enough for them to start on,” he said.
The Fox shook his head.
“I’m afraid it won’t last them very long. They’re beautiful healthy children with fine appetites.”
“Poor little dears!” Pekka said. “Let me see them.”
“Not just now!” Mikko insisted. “They’re asleep and mustn’t be disturbed. Go out hunting again and the next time you come home you shall see them.”
Pekka felt that the Fox must be a very good nurse indeed to be so strict. So he went off hunting again without seeing his children.
As soon as he was gone Mikko, the rascal, ate up all the horse meat without giving the cubs one bite and then, as he was still hungry, he ate one of the cubs. The next day he ate another cub, and the day following he ate the last of them. He was just finishing that last cub when the Wolf came home and called in at the door:
“Now, nurse, here I am come home to see my dear children! They’re well, aren’t they?”
“Very well!” the Fox declared. “But they’ve grown so big under my good care that the house isn’t large enough now to hold them and you and me at the same time. If you’re coming in, I must get out first.”
So the Wolf stood aside as the Fox came out and scampered away.
Then the Wolf went in and of course all he could find of his dear children were their bones.
“You faithless, faithless nurse!” he cried.
In awful rage he ran after Mikko and was about to overtake him when Mikko slipped into a crevice in the rocks. Only one paw stuck out. The Wolf pounced on this paw and began gnawing it.
“Say, Pekka, have you gone crazy?” the Fox asked. “What do you think you’re doing biting that old root? I hope you don’t think it’s one of my paws. I’m sitting on all four paws.”
The Wolf looked up to see whether this was true and, quick as a flash, Mikko, the rascal, drew in his paw.
So the poor old Wolf, fooled again, went sadly home.
ADVENTURE XII
THE BEAR SAYS NORTH
One day while Osmo, the Bear, was prowling about the woods he caught a Grouse.
“Pretty good!” he thought to himself. “Wouldn’t the other animals be surprised if they knew old Osmo had caught a Grouse!”
He was so proud of his feat that he wanted all the world to know of it. So, holding the Grouse carefully in his teeth without injuring it, he began parading up and down the forest ways.
“They’ll all certainly envy me this nice plump Grouse,” he thought. “And they won’t be so ready to call me awkward and lumbering after this, either!”
Presently Mikko, the Fox, sauntered by. He saw at once that Osmo was showing off and he determined that the Bear would not get the satisfaction of any admiration from him. So he pretended not to see the Grouse at all. Instead he pointed his nose upwards and sniffed.
“Um! Um!” grunted Osmo, trying to attract attention to himself.
“Ah,” Mikko remarked, casually, “is that you, Osmo? What way is the wind blowing to-day? Can you tell me?”
Osmo, of course, could not answer without opening his mouth, so he grunted again hoping that Mikko would have to notice why he couldn’t answer. But the Fox didn’t glance at him at all. With his nose still pointed upwards he kept sniffing the air.
“It seems to me it’s from the South,” he said. “Isn’t it from the South, Osmo?”
“Um! Um! Um!” the Bear grunted.
“You say it is from the South, Osmo? Are you sure?”
“Um! Um!” Osmo repeated, growing every moment more impatient.
“Oh, not from the South, you say. Then from what direction is it blowing?”
By this time the Bear was so exasperated by Mikko’s interest in the wind when he should have been admiring the Grouse that he forgot himself, opened his mouth, and roared out:
“North!”
Of course the instant he opened his mouth, the Grouse flew away.
“Now see what you’ve done!” he stormed angrily. “You’ve made me lose my fine plump Grouse!”
“I?” Mikko asked. “What had I to do with it?”
“You kept asking me about the wind until I opened my mouth – that’s what you did!”
The Fox shrugged his shoulders.
“Why did you open your mouth?”
“Well, you can’t say, ‘North!’ without opening your mouth, can you?” the Bear demanded.
The Fox laughed heartily.
“See here, Osmo, don’t blame me. Blame yourself. If I had had that Grouse in my mouth and you had asked me about the wind, I should never have said, ‘North!’”
“What would you have said?” the Bear asked.
Mikko, the rascal, laughed harder than ever. Then he clenched his teeth and said:
“East!”
ADVENTURE XIII
OSMO’S SHARE
One day Osmo, the Bear, came to a clearing where a Man was plowing.
“Good day,” the Bear said. “What are you doing?”
“I’m plowing,” the Man answered. “After I finish plowing I’m going to harrow and then plant the field, half in wheat and half in turnips.”
“Yum! Yum!” Osmo thought to himself. “Good food that – wheat and turnips!”
Aloud he said:
“I know how to plow and harrow. What do you say to my helping you?”
“If you help me,” the Man said, “I’ll share the harvest with you.”
So Osmo set to work and between them they soon had the field plowed, harrowed, and planted.
When Autumn came they went to get their crops.
At the turnip field the Man said:
“Now what do you want as your share – the part that grows above the ground or the part that grows below?”
Osmo, the Bear, seeing how green and luxuriant the turnip tops were, said:
“Give me the part that grows above ground.”
After they had harvested the turnips, they went on to the wheat field where the Man put the same question.
The wheat stocks were all dry and shriveled. Osmo looked at them wisely and said:
“This time you better give me the part that grows under the ground.”
The Man laughed in his sleeve and agreed.
One day the following winter the two met and the Man invited the Bear to dinner. Osmo who was very hungry accepted the invitation gladly.
First they had baked turnips.
“Oh, but these are good!” Osmo said. “I’ve never tasted anything better! What are they?”
“Why,” the Man said, “they’re the turnips from that field that you and I planted together.”
The Bear was greatly surprised.
Then they had some freshly baked bread.
“How good! How good!” Osmo exclaimed. “What is it?”
“Just plain bread,” the Man said, “baked from the wheat you and I planted together.”
Osmo was more surprised than ever.
“Why, do you know,” he said, “my turnips and my bread don’t taste a bit like this!”
The Man burst out laughing and Osmo wondered why.
ADVENTURE XIV
THE REWARD OF KINDNESS
Osmo, the Bear, used to go day after day to a field of growing rye and eat as much as he wanted. The Farmer noticed from the Bear’s tracks that he always came by the same route.
“I’ll teach that Bear a lesson!” the Farmer thought to himself.
So he set a snare made of a strong net and carefully covered it over with leaves and branches.
That day Osmo, when he came as usual to the field, got entangled in the net and was unable to escape.
The Farmer when he came and found him securely caught was overjoyed.
“Now, you brute!” he said, “I’ve got you and I’m going to kill you!”
“Oh, master, don’t do that!” the Bear implored. “Don’t kill me!”
“Why shouldn’t I kill you?” the Farmer asked. “Aren’t you destroying my rye?”
“Let me off this time!” Osmo begged, “and I’ll reward you! I swear I will!”
He begged and begged until at last he prevailed upon the Farmer to open the net and let him out.
“Now then,” the Farmer said as soon as the Bear was freed, “how are you going to reward me?”
Osmo put a heavy paw on the Farmer’s shoulder.
“This is how I’m going to reward you,” he said: “I’m going to eat you up!”
“What!” the Farmer exclaimed, “is that your idea of a reward for kindness?”
“Exactly!” Osmo declared. “In this world that is the reward kindness always gets! Ask any one!”
“I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it!” the Farmer cried.
“Very well. I’ll prove to you that I’m right. We’ll ask the first person we meet.”
The first person they met was an old Horse. They put their case to him.
“The Bear is right,” the old Horse said. “Look at me: For thirty years I gave my master faithful service and just this morning I heard him say: ‘It’s time we killed that old plug! He’s no good for work any more and he’s only eating his head off!’”
The Bear squinted his little eyes.
“You see!”
“No, I don’t see!” the Farmer insisted. “We must ask some one else.”
They walked on a little farther until they met an old Dog. They put their case to him and at once the Dog said:
“The Bear is right! Look at me: I gave my master a life time of faithful service and just this morning I overheard him say: ‘It’s time we killed that old Dog!’ Alas, alas, in this wicked world goodness is always so rewarded!”
But still the Farmer was unsatisfied and to humor him Osmo said that he was willing that they should put their case once more to the judgment of an outsider.
The next person they met was Mikko, the Fox. Mikko listened carefully and then drawing the Farmer aside he whispered:
“If I give judgment in your favor will you let me carry off all the chickens in your hen-house?”
“Indeed I will!” the Farmer promised.
Then Mikko cleared his throat importantly and said:
“H’m! H’m! To give fair judgment in this case I must go over all the ground. First show me the field of rye and the damage Osmo did.”
So they went to the field and the Fox, after he had appraised the damage, shook his head seriously.
“It was certainly wicked of Osmo eating all that rye!.. Now show me the net.”
So they went to the snare and the Fox examined it carefully.
“You say the Bear got entangled in this snare. I want to see just how he did it.”
Osmo showed just how he had been caught.
“Get all the way in,” the Fox said. “I want to make sure that you couldn’t possibly get out unaided.”
So the Bear entangled himself again in the net and proved that he couldn’t possibly get out unaided.
“Well,” said Mikko, the rascal, “you deserved to get caught the first time and now that you’re in there again you can just stay there! Come on, Mr. Farmer.”
So Mikko and the Farmer went off leaving Osmo to his fate.
That night the Fox went to the Farmer’s hen-house to claim his reward. When he came in the chickens, of course, set up an awful squawking that aroused the family. The Farmer stayed in bed but he sent his wife out with a stout club.
“It sounds to me,” he said, “as if some rascally Fox is trying to steal our hens. If you catch him, don’t be gentle with him!”
“Gentle!” repeated the wife significantly.
She hurried out to the hen-house and when she found Mikko inside she gave him an awful beating. In fact he barely escaped with his life.
“Ah!” he said to himself as he limped painfully home, “to think that this is the reward my kindness has received! Oh, what a wicked, wicked world this is!”
ADVENTURE XV
THE BEAR AND THE MOUSE
When Osmo, the Bear, was left alone in the net, he thrashed about this way and that until he was exhausted. Then he fell asleep.
While he slept a host of little Mice began playing all over his great body.
Their tiny feet tickled him and he woke with a start. The Mice scampered off, all but one that Osmo caught under his paw.
“Tweek! Tweek!” the frightened little Mouse cried. “Let me go! Let me go! Please let me go! If you do I’ll reward you some day! I promise I will!”
Osmo let out a great roar of laughter.
“What, little one? You’ll reward me! Ha! Ha! That is good! The Mouse will reward the Bear! Well now, that is a joke! However, little one, I will let you go! You’re too weak and insignificant for me to kill and too small to eat. So run along!”
With that the Bear lifted his paw and the little Mouse scampered off.
“It will reward me for my kindness!” Osmo repeated, and in spite of the fact that he was fast caught in a net he shook again with laughter.
He was still laughing when the little Mouse returned with a great army of his fellows. All the host at once began gnawing at the ropes of the net and in no time at all they had freed the big Bear.
“You see,” the little Mouse said, “although we are weak and insignificant we can reward a kindness!”
Osmo was so ashamed for having laughed at the Mice on account of their size that all he could say as he shambled off into the forest was:
“Thanks!”
ADVENTURE XVI
THE LAST OF OSMO
There was a Farmer that used to drive his sledge into the forest to cut wood. Always as he drove he shouted abusively at his Horse.
“Go along, you old plug!” he’d say. “What do you think you’re good for, anyway? If you don’t move along more lively I’ll give you to the Bear for his supper – that’s what I’ll do with you!”
Now Osmo, the Bear, heard about this, how the Farmer was always talking about giving him his Horse, so one afternoon while the Farmer was going through his usual tirade Osmo suddenly stepped out of the bushes and said:
“Well, Mr. Farmer, here I am! Suppose you give me my supper.”
The Farmer was greatly taken back.
“I didn’t really mean what I was saying,” he stammered. “He’s a good Horse but he’s a little lazy – that’s all.”
Osmo stood there swaying his shoulders and twisting his head.
“Even if he is lazy he’ll taste all right to me. Come along, Mr. Farmer, hand him over as you’ve promised to do this long time!”
“But I can’t afford to give you my Horse!” the Farmer cried. “He’s the only Horse I’ve got!”
But the Bear was firm.
“No matter! You have to keep your word!”
“See here,” the Farmer begged, “let me off on giving you my Horse and I tell you what I’ll do: I’ll give you my Cow. I can spare the Cow better.”
“When will you give me the Cow?” the Bear asked.
“To-morrow,” the Farmer promised.
“Very well,” Osmo said, “if you deliver me the Cow to-morrow I’ll let you off on the Horse. But see you keep your word!”
On his way home that afternoon the Farmer visited his traps. In one he found Mikko, the Fox. Mikko, the little rascal, begged for his life so piteously that the Farmer with a laugh freed him.
“You’ve done me a good turn,” Mikko said, “and some day I’ll do something for you. Just wait and see if I don’t.”
Well, early next morning the Farmer put his Cow on the sledge and started off for the forest. On the way he met Mikko.
“Good morning,” Mikko said. “Where are you going with your Cow?”
The Farmer stopped and told Mikko about his bargain with the Bear.
“See here,” the Fox said, “I promised you yesterday that some day I’d do you a good turn. That day has come! I’m going to save you your Cow and show you how you can kill that old Bear once and for all. But if I do this, you’ll have to give me the Bear’s carcass after he’s dead and gone.”
“I’ll be glad enough to do that,” the Farmer declared. “Save me my Cow and you may have all of that old Bear that you want!”
“Well then,” Mikko said, “go home with the Cow as quickly as you can and come back here with ten distaffs. My plan is to have you put five of the distaffs around my neck and five around my tail. I can make an awful noise rattling them. When the Bear hears me and wonders who I am, do you say to him: ‘Oh! That must be my son, the Hunter! Don’t you hear the rattle of his musket?’ Then between us we’ll finish that old Bear.”
The Farmer did as the Fox directed. He drove the Cow home and returned to the forest with ten distaffs, five of which he fastened about the Fox’s neck and five about his tail. Then he drove the sledge on to the place where he was to meet the Bear and Mikko, the Fox, crept along quietly behind him.
“Where’s my Cow?” the Bear demanded as soon as the sledge appeared.
“I’ve come to talk to you about that,” the Farmer began.
Just then there was an awful rattle of something in the bushes behind the Farmer.
“What’s that?” the Bear cried.
“Oh,” the Farmer said, “that must be my son, the Hunter! Don’t you hear the rattle of his musket?”
The Bear shook in terror.
“The Hunter, you say! Mercy me, what shall I do! Oh, Mr. Farmer, save me from the Hunter and I’ll forgive you the Cow!”
“Very well,” the Farmer promised, “I’ll do my best! Lie down and I’ll try to make the Hunter believe you’re only a log.”
So the Bear lay down on the ground and stayed perfectly quiet.
“Father,” called the Fox in a voice that sounded like the Hunter’s, “what’s that big brown thing lying on the ground near you? Is it a Bear?”
“No, son,” the Farmer called back, “that isn’t a Bear. It’s only a log of wood.”
“If it’s a log of wood, father, chop it up!”
The Farmer raised his ax.
“Don’t really chop me!” the Bear begged in a whisper. “Just pretend to.”
“This is too good a log to chop up,” the Farmer said.
“Well, father,” said the voice from the bushes, “if it’s such a good log you better put it on your sledge and take it home.”
“Lie still,” the Farmer whispered, “while I put you on the sledge.”
So the Bear lay stiff and quiet and the Farmer dragged him on to the sledge.
“Father,” the voice said, “you better tie that log down to keep it from rolling off.”
“Don’t move,” the Farmer whispered, “and I’ll tie you down just as if you were a log.”
So the Bear lay perfectly still while the Farmer lashed him securely to the sledge.
“Father, are you sure that log can’t roll off?”
“Yes, son,” the Farmer said, “I’m sure it can’t roll off now.”
“Then, father, drive your ax into the end of the log and off we’ll go!”
At that the Farmer raised his ax and with one mighty blow buried it in the neck of the Bear.
So that was the end of poor old lumbering Osmo!
The Farmer was saved both his Horse and his Cow and Mikko, the rascal, feasted on Bear meat for a week.
