It had always been the best watermelon in the whole
patch. Even when it was a little fellow it was so round and pudgy that Michael
noticed it and said to his mother and father, "It looks just like a fat baby,
ready to laugh."
"If you like it so well," answered his father, "we'll give it to
you. It will be ripe just about on your birthday, and you can have it to
eat at your party."
"Oh, thank you, Father," exclaimed the pleased little boy.
After this Michael took special care of the watermelon, and the Nature
Spirits and little animal people who were his friends gave it their special
care, too. With such loving attention the little round watermelon grew faster
than any of the others in the patch, until just a few days before Michael's
birthday it seemed in perfect condition.
Meanwhile in the east orchard of the Garden across the highway from
Michael's home the little animal people went about in their usual busy
fashion. Skirrlcy, the squirrel, could be seen hunting nuts here and there;
Grubby, the gopher, looked out the door of his underground home occasionally;
Mrs. Plumy, with her two striped kittens, went about searching for a choice
tidbit; and the cottontail bunnies were hopping all over the orchard.
In the afternoon, just two days before Michael's birthday, Scuffy, the
rabbit, and his grandfather, Lightfoot, along with several other relatives,
were gathered in the berry patch discussing a problem of great importance to
them. For several days they had been concerned about the nightly visits which
one of their new neighbors, Mr. Ringtail Raccoon, made away from the orchard.
"Three nights I saw him leave," said Scuffy, "and Ollie, the owl, said
she saw him, too, coming home early in the morning."
"It certainly doesn't look very respectable - staying out all night,"
said Mrs. Scuffy.
Grandfather Lightfoot adjusted his glasses and said, "Well, my dear, we
shouldn't judge too hastily. He might be looking after a sick friend, you
know."
"Oh, Grandfather, you are always trying to see the good in everybody,
and of course that's right. But I think we should know for sure," replied Mrs.
Scuffy.
"Then suppose some of us follow him tonight and find out just where he
goes," suggested her practical husband.
"Yes, we can do that," agreed Grandfather. "Scuffy, you and Rusky meet
me here tonight when the Moon comes up over the tops of the eucalyptus trees,
and we'll see if he 's up to any mischief."
All agreed to this, and that night when the big round Moon shone down
on the orchard from above the tops of the tall eucalyptus trees, Grandfather
Lightfoot and his two grandsons met in some bushes near the hollow tree where
Mr. Raccoon had made his home. Before long their new neighbor stuck his nose
out the door, looked cautiously about, and then slipped silently over to the
hedge and on to the big gate. The rabbits followed as noiselessly as they
could. At the gate Mr. Raccoon stopped to look about him, and then quickly ran
down the road and across the highway. There he paused again for a moment, as
an automobile came by flashing its big lights. Then he ran down Mesa Drive
toward Michael's home.
The rabbits meanwhile had been hopping along a distance behind,
wondering where on earth he was going. When they saw him stop at the fence of
the watermelon patch they looked at each other uneasily.
"Come on," whispered Grandfather. "We'll soon see what he is up to."
Quietly they peered from the weeds by the side of the road and saw the
raccoon busily digging in the earth by the fence.
"What's he doing that for, Grandpa?" asked Rusky.
"Why, he 's digging a hole under the fence so he can get into the
patch," replied Grandfather.
"But I don't see how he can eat a watermelon," whispered Rusky.
By this time Mr. Raccoon had finished digging the hole and had slipped
into the patch. Not far behind him, cautious and curious, followed the
rabbits, easily hiding themselves among the watermelon leaves.
Mr. Raccoon looked sharply around at the watermelons, and then suddenly
made a bee line for Michael's round, fat melon. Pushing it to one side with
his nose, he began to scratch on the other side. Soon there was a hole down
into the sweet, red meat, and the hungry raccoon put in his paws and brought
out a luscious mouthful which he devoured with obvious delight.
The rabbits' eyes almost popped out of their heads.
"I wouldn't have believed it," whispered Grandfather.
The three sat quietly for a moment, not knowing just what to do, while
Mr. Raccoon went on greedily eating. Grandfather was thinking that not another
one of the little animals of the Garden would have bothered anything belonging
to Michael's family, for they all loved animals and treated them almost like
humans.
Suddenly he said aloud, "That's Michael 's birthday watermelon. This
thieving must stop at once."
Just then the bark of a dog rang out on the moonlit air. Mr. Raccoon ran
like lightning back to the fence and through the hole to the side of the
highway. The rabbits followed as fast as they could go.
The next morning bright and early Michael, thinking of his birthday on
the morrow, ran out to give his watermelon a loving pat before starting for
school. When he reached the patch he could scarcely believe his eyes. There
was the big hole left by Mr. Raccoon's greedy paws, and seeds were scattered
all over the ground.
"Mother! Father!" called Michael, seeing them come out the back door.
"Come here. My birthday watermelon's ruined. There's a hole in it and seeds
are scattered all around."
"Are there any tracks?" asked his father, coming up to the fence.
"Yes, there are," answered Michael, bending down to look more closely.
When Michael's father examined the melon and saw the footprints, he said,
"It's too bad, son, but a raccoon had a party on your melon."
"But how could he get through the rind?"
"Why," said his father, "the forepaws of a raccoon are almost like human
hands and the claws are very sharp. I have seen them do this before, but I
haven't seen any here for a long time."
"But you'd better run along to school now, dear," said his mother, "or
you'll be late. We'll take the watermelon in and have what's still good for
supper," she added, as Michael obediently trudged away.
In the meantime the rabbits had had a meeting in the orchard and decided
to call upon Mr. Raccoon and explain what a dreadful thing he had done.
Grandfather Lightfoot, with several of his family, hopped over to the tree
where Mr. Raccoon lived. They knocked at the door, but no one answered. They
knocked again, this time louder.
Finally, Mr. Raccoon, blinking his eyes sleepily, came to the door.
"Mr. Raccoon," said Grandfather Lightfoot, "we have come to have a serious
talk with you and explain some matters you don't seem to understand."
Mr. Raccoon looked surprised but said politely, "Very well. Come up on the
porch and have seats."
Grandfather cleared his throat a bit nervously, glanced around the circle
of relatives, and then spoke to his host.
"We know you're a newcomer to these parts and don't know all of our
customs, so we've come to tell you about them. You see, there are some people
who are so good to animals that their fields are never bothered by us."
Mr. Raccoon blinked his eyes and looked embarrassed.
"And that watermelon patch you went into last night belongs to one of our
very best friends," piped up Scuffy excitedly.
"Yes, Scuffy's right, Mr. Raccoon," went on Grandfather. "We don 't want
to hurt your feelings, but that's what we came to see you about. We are very
fond of Michael, and that was his watermelon for his birthday party."
Mr. Raccoon looked nervously at his feet. He began to feel very ashamed.
"Oh, I see," he said. "Well, Mr. Rabbit, I like this neighborhood better
than any I've ever lived in and I'll be glad to abide by your customs. And I'd
like to be one of Michael's friends, too. I've known boys who weren't so good
to animals."
Grandfather went over to the raccoon and shook hands with him cordially.
"Well, that's just fine then. We'll be glad to have you stay here if you feel
that way."
"But what're we going to do about Michael's watermelon?" Scuffy wanted to
know.
Just then came a gay voice from the branch of a nearby fig tree.
"I think we Nature Spirits can help you," it said. "We like Michael, too."
The little animals all looked up at the little creature above them with
pleased recognition.
"We sure hope you can, Gnomy," replied Scuffy, "but you'll have to hurry.
Tomorrow's his birthday, and there 's not another watermelon in the patch ripe
enough to eat."
"Oh, we can fix that," said the Nature Spirit. "We'll all get to work and
make one of the other melons ripen before morning, and you folks can move it
over so Michael will find it right where his was."
And that's exactly what they did!
The next morning Michael was up early. He wandered out and walked dreamily
to the watermelon patch, thinking sadly of how his friends would have enjoyed
the little fat watermelon. He looked over to the spot where it had been, and
there to his amazement lay another fat watermelon! He called excitedly, "Oh,
Mother, Father! Come here quick. There's another watermelon just like mine
and it's in the same place."
"That I'll have to see," replied his father. But sure enough there it was,
and when Michael's father thumped it, it sounded ripe as ripe could be.
"How on earth did it get there?" asked Michael, a broad grin on his face.
"Oh, I suppose some of your little friends put it there," said his father
good-naturedly. "Anyway, here it is, and now you can have it for your
birthday party."
Michael's father did not know that the "little friends" were hiding among
the leaves watching. But that is just what they were doing, and they all
smiled knowingly as they watched Michael 's happy face.
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