put a bean on to boil, mr. cook!

put a bean on to boil, mr. cook!

for an army, it must eat

and rest its weary feet;

so put on a bean, mr. cook!

the teenie weenie soldiers sang this song as they sat about their tiny camp fire one evening shortly after the peace dance. they were all happy, for they were to start for home in the morning. the sailor was now well enough to stand the long trip and that was all that had been holding them back.

“he can stand the trip,” the doctor said, “if he is carried in some way that will not jolt him. he was badly wounded and i wouldn’t care to have him ride in one of the army wagons, as they are much too rough.”

“we can make a litter and get two mice to carry it,” suggested tess bone.

“that’s a good idea,” said the doctor. “he will rest that way in fine shape.”

the turk and the old soldier agreed to make the litter and in a short time they had built such a cozy one the sailor was quite pleased with it.

“crickety!” exclaimed the dunce when he saw the litter, “i wish i was wounded so i could ride in that instead of walkin’ all the way home.”

the army wagons were loaded and early in the morning the little army began the long journey home. first the cannon and then the baggage and wagons had to be moved across the river on the raft. it took the little people all day to move across the river, for many trips had to be made with the clumsy raft. but at the end of the day not a single teenie weenie was left on sabo island.

as queen mooie had given the teenie weenies so many presents of frog hams, rice cakes, delicious seeds and many hickory nut meats, the little people were well supplied with good food. every evening after the day’s march the happy little army ate their meal gathered around a glowing camp fire. they laughed and joked, sang songs, told stories and gossiped with the many birds and animals of the woods who gathered about the camp fire.

often the teenie weenies listened to a strange tale of the forest, told by some owl or chipmunk, and quite often the birds sang to them.

one evening a wicked old weasel came prowling around the camp. the little folks were quite alarmed about it, for the old fellow hung around for a long time. they could see his wicked green eyes shining in the light from the camp fire and when the general asked him what he wanted, he never answered. at last the general told several of the soldiers to fire off their rifles.

“shoot in the air over his head and give him a good scare,” ordered the general. “i think that will fix him.”

at the first sound of the guns the weasel quickly disappeared into the night and nothing more was seen of him, although the men kept a mighty close watch for several days.

when the army came to the place where they had built the bridge, they found the squirrel whom they had hired to guard it, on duty.

“well, here i am,” shouted the squirrel. “and here is the bridge just as you left it.”

“you have done your duty well,” said the general, and he ordered the cook to pay the squirrel the ten sunflower seeds and the hickory nuts which had been promised him.

“well, i always believe in doin’ my duty,” said the squirrel. “if i agree to do a thing i always stick to my word—i’d rather lose every whisker i’ve got than go back on my word.”

a bluejay who was sitting in a bush near by snickered and the squirrel gave him a nasty look. the teenie weenies thought for a minute that there might be a quarrel, but the bluejay flew off, so they felt much easier.

after a pleasant talk with the squirrel, the general ordered the army to march on and as long as the teenie weenies were in sight the squirrel waved to them from the top of an old stump.

the trip seemed to agree with the sailor. he grew stronger and stronger under the watchful eye of the doctor and the two dainty nurses. he was fed on broth and a tiny bit of poached bird’s egg each day, and as the army drew near home he was almost strong enough to walk.

one day the teenie weenies were surprised to hear a bird shout to them from a bush over their heads and when they looked up they saw it was tilly titter, the english sparrow—an old and trusted friend.

of course the general ordered a halt, while the men gathered around the sparrow and asked many questions.

“how are the twins?” asked mr. lover.

“fine! just fine!” cried the bird. “i was over to the village yesterday and they were playin’ foot ball with a gooseberry. they are as husky as a caterpillar in a mulberry bush. your wife is as fat as butter; i’ll bet she has gained half an ounce since you left her.”

after the teenie weenies had learned all the news from home the general gave a message to tilly and asked her to deliver it to the teenie weenie village.

“you can just bet your last fish worm i’ll carry that message as quick as i can,” said the bird. “everyone in the village will be tickled to death to hear that you are so near home. grandpa will be so ’appy ’e’ll shout ’imself ’oarse.”

spreading her wings, tilly titter flew into the air and quickly disappeared in the direction of the teenie weenie village.