THE MAIL-BOX
Climbing an oak at the cross-roads one day, not far
from Farmer Green’s house, Sandy Chipmunk discovered
a queer box nailed to the trunk of the tree.
Much as he wanted to, he couldn’t look inside
the box, because its lid was closed. And since
Sandy was afraid the box might be some sort of trap,
he didn’t dare go near it and poke at the lid.
Later that day Sandy told Frisky Squirrel about the
strange box. And Frisky told Fatty Coon.
And Fatty Coon told somebody else.
So the news traveled, until at last it reached the
sharp ears of old Mr. Crow.
By the time Mr. Crow heard the story it had grown
amazingly. And it went something like this:
Farmer Green had bought a new trap in the village.
And he had nailed it on a tree to catch all sorts of
animals and birds. And after he had caught all
the forest-folk in Pleasant Valley he intended to
take the trap to Swift River and set it for fish and
eels and turtles.
When Mr. Crow heard the news he haw-hawed loudly.
“What are you laughing about?” Jasper
Jay asked him. (It was Jasper who repeated the story
to Mr. Crow.) “You wouldn’t think it was
such a joke if you were caught in the trap.”
“Trap!” Mr. Crow sneered. “That’s
no trap. That’s what’s called a mail-box.
Every day a man with letters and newspapers drives
over here from the village. And he stops at the
cross-roads and leaves something in the box for Farmer
Green.”
As soon as he heard that, Jasper Jay flew away to
tell everybody about the mail-box. And at last
Sandy Chipmunk heard the story. But by the time
it reached his ears—after it had been told
by one person to another almost forty times—the
story was somewhat different from what it had been
when Mr. Crow first told it to Jasper Jay. This
is what Sandy heard: The thing on the tree was
a mailbox. Every day a man drove from the village
in a wagon drawn by twelve horses. He had a load
of letters as big as six haystacks. And he left
a handful of letters in that box, because he wanted
to get rid of them so he could go back to the village
for more. And any one could take a letter—if
it happened to be for him.
It was Frisky Squirrel who told the story to Sandy.
Of course, after so much telling it had changed a
good deal. But Sandy Chipmunk didn’t know
that. And he hurried to the cross-roads at once,
to watch for the man driving the twelve horses.
When he reached the oak, where the box was, Sandy
climbed the tree and perched himself on a limb and
waited. He had not sat there long before he saw
a man drive up the road. Sandy Chipmunk was surprised
when the man stopped beneath the tree and dropped
some letters and newspapers into the box. He
was surprised because the man drove only one horse,
instead of twelve. And the man had only a single
bag of mail in his wagon, instead of a great heap—as
big as six haystacks.
