Wolf Story

by William McCleery

  “Make it that it didn’t,” said Stefan.

  “Right,” said Michael.

  So the man went on, saying, “Waldo carried Rainbow to his den, deep in the dark forest, and there he ate her and that is the end of the story. Now let’s be quiet for a while.”

  “No!” shouted Michael and Stefan.

  “He didn’t eat her yet!” said Michael.

  Stefan looked disappointed.

  “O.K.,” said the man. “He didn’t eat her.”

  “Then tell some more, Daddy,” said Michael.

  “No, you boys are sleepy.”

  “We are not!” cried the boys.

  “No?” said Michael’s daddy. “Well, I am! If you’ll be quiet for a few minutes I’ll tell some more on the way home.”

  The boys closed their eyes and pretended to be asleep. In a moment there was the sound of snoring. Was Michael asleep? No. Stefan? No. Michael’s father was asleep!

  Chapter 4

  hen Michael’s father woke up, he took the two boys by the hand and they walked across the street to where the car was parked. Earlier the day had been cloudy, but now the sky was clear, or almost clear. There was just one cloud.

  “Boys,” said Michael’s father, “I have what I think is a good idea. Let’s put the top down.”

  “Yea!” cried the boys, and they all went to work unfastening fasteners and unzipping zippers and unsnapping snappers and tugging and pushing and lifting and grunting until finally the top was down and everyone was exhausted. Just then Michael felt something wet on his arm. A drop of water. He held out his hand. Another drop of water.

  “Ohhh!” he moaned. “Daddy. It’s raining!”

  Sure enough. That one cloud had grown bigger and darker and was right over their heads, leaking raindrops.

  “Boys,” said Michael’s father. “I have what I think is a good idea. Let’s put the top up!”

  “Ohhh!” moaned Michael. “I’m so tired.” He lay down on his back on the sidewalk.

  “Me too,” said Stefan and lay down beside him.

  Michael’s father put the top up and then pressed his foot on the starter. It went r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r and the engine coughed but it didn’t start. He pressed again. R-r-r-r-r, cough, cough. He pressed again. R-r-r-r, cough, cough.

  “I smell gasoline,” said Stefan.

  “Me too,” said Michael.

  “She’s flooded,” said Michael’s father.

  They got out of the car and lifted the hood. Sure enough, the carburetor was so full of gasoline it was dripping.

  “We’ll have to sit and wait till it drains,” he said.

  “Tell some more about Rainbow,” said Michael.

  “What happened in the forest?” said Stefan.

  They got back into the car and Michael’s father went on with the story. “We left off where the wolf, Waldo, took the hen, Rainbow, to his den,” said Michael’s father. “Well, as soon as they reached his den the wolf said,

  “ ‘Little hen, I am going to eat you.’

  “ ‘Me?’said the hen.

  “ ‘You.’

  “ ‘Right now?’ said the hen.

  “ ‘As soon as I boil some water.’

  “ ‘But I haven’t had my breakfast,’ said the hen.

  “ ‘Now ain’t that too bad,’ said the Wolf.

  “ ‘I will be fatter if I have breakfast,’ said the hen. ‘There will be more of me for you to eat.’

  “ ‘Yeah? I never thought of that,’ said the wolf. ‘But you can’t eat breakfast now.’

  “ ‘Why not?’

  “ ‘This is still the middle of the night. Breakfast is in the morning.’

  “ ‘I’ll just have to wait,’ said the hen.

  “ ‘You’ll have to wait?’ said the wolf. ‘What about me?’

  “ ‘You’ll have to wait too.’

  “ ‘What are you trying to do, kid me?’ said the wolf.

  “ ‘A poor weak little hen like me, try to kid a great big handsome wolf like you?’ said the hen. ‘Don’t be absurd.’

  “The wolf turned his head and looked in a mirror. He was very vain, that wolf; loved to look at himself in the mirror, always putting stickum on his hair.

  “ ‘What do you generally eat for breakfast?’ said the wolf.

  “ ‘Oh, a little grain, maybe.’

  “ ‘I ain’t got any grain,’ said the wolf.

  “ ‘Or worms.’

  “ ‘And I ain’t got any worms,’ said the wolf. ‘So it looks like I’ll have to eat you the way you are, right now.’

  “ ‘You have no grain or worms here in your den,’ said Rainbow. ‘But I wouldn’t, mind just scratching around outside your den while you boil the water and set the table.’

  “ ‘Set what table?’ said the wolf.

  “ ‘I mean put out the knives and forks.’

  “ ‘What knives and forks? !’

  “ ‘I hope you weren’t planning to eat me in your fingers,’ said the hen.

  “ ‘How do you eat chicken?’ cried the wolf.

  “ ‘I,’ said the hen, ‘do not eat chicken.’

  “The wolf thought for a moment.

  “ ‘How do I know you wouldn’t run away if I let you scratch around outside?’

  “The hen laughed. ‘A poor little twerp of a hen like me, try to run away from a ferocious intelligent superman of a wolf like you? Ha, ha, ha.’

  “The wolf looked in the mirror again. He smoothed one eyebrow with a paw.

  “ ‘I see what you mean,’ he said. ‘Well, go ahead. Eat up. Eat a lot. Get fat. I’ll call you when breakfast is ready. I mean when I’m ready. And listen, Hen. Keep clucking so I can hear you. If you stop clucking I’ll know that you are trying to escape. I’ll come out and eat you right away.’

  “ ‘Cluck, cluck,’ said the hen.

  “ ‘What did you say?’ said the wolf.

  “ ‘I said “cluck, cluck,” ’ said the hen.

  “ ‘That’s the idea,’ said the wolf.

  “So Rainbow the hen went clucking out into the clearing around the wolf’s den, and the wolf went into his kitchen and turned on the gas range and put a big pot of water to boil. You realize, of course, that wolves do not have gas ranges and hens do not talk and this is all just a lot of nonsense.”

  “But go on,” said Michael. “How does Rainbow get away?”

  “Does Rainbow get away?” said Michael’s father.

  “And the wolf gets killed,” said Stefan.

  “How?” said Michael’s father.

  “Make it that the farmer has a little boy named Jimmy, and Jimmy kills the wolf,” said Michael, “only not right away. Make it a longer story.”

  “All right,” said Michael’s father, “but let me start the car first and we can finish the story on the way home.” He pressed the starter. This time the hood was up and the boys could see a stream of gasoline spurt right out of the carburetor.

  “Boys, we’re in trouble,” said Michael’s father.

  “Goody, goody,” said the boys.

  “Goody my foot,” said Michael’s father. “I’ll have to walk to a garage. Unless ... maybe I can get that man over there to fix the carburetor.” He pointed to a man who was bending over the engine of his own automobile, parked across the street.

  The man did try to fix the carburetor but couldn’t.

  “I’ll give you a shove in my car,” said the man. “Maybe that’ll start her.”

  So Michael and Stefan and Michael’s father got in the car. The man drove his car around behind them and began to push. He pushed and he pushed, but still the engine wouldn’t start. The man knew of a garage nearby. He phoned the garage and a truck came over and pushed the car into the garage and there a mechanic went to work on the carburetor. He took it apart.

  “There’s a hole in the float,” he said.

  “Can you fix it?” said Michael’s father.

  The man shook his head. “Have to put in a new one.”

  “How lon
g will it take?”

  “About an hour.”

  “Goody!” cried Michael. “You can tell about Rainbow for a whole hour.”

  “Oh, fine,” said his father.

  They went out and sat on the steps of a house next door to the garage, and the story was resumed.

  Chapter 5

  he man sat in the middle of the step with his son Michael on one side and their good friend Stefan on the other. Michael was five and Stefan was six.

  “Well,” said Michael’s father, “Rainbow the hen was in the forest outside the den of Waldo, the fiercest and most boring wolf in the world, when the sun came up and it was morning in the forest and on the farm. Mr. Tractorwheel and his boys got up and went out to do the chores before breakfast.”

  “What are chores?” said Stefan.

  “Work. Little jobs of work. Milking the cows, feeding the pigs and chickens.”

  “Go on,” said Michael.

  “Young man, if you say ‘go on’ just once more, I’m going to have Rainbow pick up a club and go in the den and beat that wolf’s brains out,” said Michael’s father.

  “Yea, yea!” cried Stefan. “Do it!”

  “No!” cried Michael. “Jimmy beats the wolf’s brains out. You promised.”

  “All right, but stop saying ‘Go on.’ Well, Jimmy Tractorwheel was the farmer’s youngest son. He was only about four or five, but strong, very strong. And clean. Always kept his hands and face clean. Ate very well, too, that Jimmy. Spinach, carrots, very little candy. And always slept late in the morning.”

  “On a farm?” said Michael.

  “Well, he slept till somebody woke him up. Or if he was first to wake up he played very quietly in his room. Never disturbed his parents. Never went walking around the house in his bare feet either. Not in the winter time.”

  “Did Jimmy go to the hen house?” asked Michael.

  “Yes, because it was his job to feed the chickens, and he came running to his father. ‘Father, father, my pet hen Rainbow is gone!’

  “ ‘Gone?’

  “ ‘Come quickly!’

  “So they ran to the hen house.

  “ ‘Hmm,’ said the farmer, ‘she’s gone all right. Must have flown over the fence. She always was a wild one.’

  “ ‘No, father,’ said Jimmy. ‘Look! See the big hole under the fence.’

  “ ‘Sure enough,’ said the farmer. ‘She dug her way out.’

  “ ‘No, father, I think the wolf dug a hole and carried Rainbow away.’

  “ ‘What makes you think that?’

  “ ‘Well, the hole is so big. Why would Rainbow dig such a big hole?’

  “The farmer scratched his head. ‘Mebbe you’re right.’

  “ ‘And look,’ said Jimmy, ‘a piece of wolf hair stuck here on the fence.’

  “ ‘Danged if it ain’t,’ said the farmer. ‘You win.’

  “Mr. Tractorwheel and Jimmy went back to the house. The other boys were already at the breakfast table. Jimmy told them about Rainbow. They all shook their heads sadly except Tom, the fun-loving Tractorwheel, who was always making bum jokes.

  “ ‘Did you see a pot of gold?’ said Tom.

  “ ‘No, why?’ said Jimmy.

  “ ‘They say there is always a pot of gold at the end of a Rainbow, and this sure looks like the end of Rainbow!’

  “Tom slapped his leg and laughed so hard he fell over backward in his chair.

  “ ‘I don’t think it’s funny,’ said Jimmy.

  “ ‘No, but it’s true,’ said his father. ‘This is the end of Rainbow.’

  “ ‘Maybe not,’ said Jimmy. ‘Maybe we could rescue Rainbow from the wolf.

  “ ‘How?’ said his father.

  “ ‘The wolf lives in the forest,’ said Jimmy. ‘He must have taken Rainbow to his den.’

  “ ‘And den what?’ said Tom, falling over backward in his chair again.

  “ ‘He ate her,’ said the farmer.

  “ ‘Maybe not,’ said Jimmy. ‘Maybe he’s saving her for supper.’

  “ ‘Could be,’ said his father.

  “ ‘I tell you what I suggest,’ said Jimmy. ‘Let’s all go into the forest this morning and search.’

  “ ‘Good idea,’ said his father. ‘You boys all do that. Wish I could join you, but I have to go to town to see a man about a well rope.’

  “ ‘Swell idea, but I have a date to pitch horseshoes with Derwood Quigg,’ said the oldest boy.

  “ ‘I’m helping the Hargelroad girls make butter,’ said the next oldest. ‘They helped me last week.’

  “ ‘And one good churn deserves another,’ cried Tom. ‘As for me, I have to go to the doctor to have some stitches taken in my scalp.’ The last time he had fallen over in his chair he had hit his head on the base of the stove, which is the sort of thing that happens to people who go around making bum jokes.

  “ ‘I’ll go alone,’ said Jimmy.

  “And as soon as breakfast was over he took a baseball bat and a small compass with a luminous dial and genuine leather wrist strap and entered the forest in search of his pet hen, Rainbow.”

  The garage men came to the door and called to Michael’s father.

  “O.K.,” he said. “She’s O.K. now. I don’t think she’ll give you any more trouble.”

  Michael’s father was very happy to get in the car and start home again.

  “You boys have been very good today,” he said as they drove through Central Park. “We’ve been gone from home almost eight hours and we haven’t had any trouble at all. You deserve a reward. What will it be? Ice cream cones? Candy bars?”

  “More!” cried the boys.

  “More what?”

  “More about Rainbow!”

  “Next Sunday,” said Michael’s father. “In the meantime, please do not mention the name Rainbow to me again, or Waldo, or Jimmy Tractorwheel. Is that clear?”

  The boys were so busy shooting at imaginary enemies coming out from behind trees and rocks that they did not stop to argue. They agreed to take ice cream cones as their reward. Double ice cream cones, that is.

  Chapter 6

  t breakfast the following Sunday, Michael’s father said, “Well, son, what about an excursion?”

  “Yippee!” screamed Michael.

  “What about my ear-drums?” said Michael’s mother, holding her head.

  “Washington Square?” said his father. Washington Square was a small park just a few blocks away.

  “That’s not an excursion!” said Michael. “Let’s go to Jones Beach!”

  “But it’s too chilly to go swimming.”

  “We could play on the sand.”

  “I could fix you a lunch to take along,” said Michael’s mother.

  “Do you realize how far it is to Jones Beach?” cried his father.

  “Can we take Steffy?” cried Michael. “And fly a kite?”

  “Oh, well, that’s an idea,” said his father, who liked to fly kites. “Maybe we could get that big box kite in the air.” During the summer Michael’s father had bought a box kite about as large as a kitchen stove and almost as heavy. In fact it was so heavy he had never been able to get it off the ground. He thought perhaps the wind at the beach would be strong enough to lift it—and then, of course, he wanted to go where his son wanted to go.

  Michael went next door to get Stefan while his mother fixed a lunch for them and his father went to the basement to find the box kite, which was rolled up in a long paper bag.

  And soon they were driving along the Franklin D. Roosevelt Drive toward the Triborough Bridge and the boys were firing imaginary fusillades at every ship in the East River. They crossed the bridge and passed LaGuardia Airport, where huge passenger planes were roaring in and out every few seconds, and then the boys settled down in the front seat and Michael’s father resumed the story of Rainbow.

  “Let’s see, where were we?” he said. “Oh, yes, Jimmy Tractorwheel went into the forest in search of Rainbow.”

  “He took
a compass to find the wolf with,” said Michael.

  “And a ball bat to hit him with,” said Stefan.

  “No, the compass was to find his way home,” said Michael’s father, “in case he got lost. Anyway, Jimmy went bravely into the forest. He walked and he walked and he walked. Very quietly. He thought of calling Rainbow, but decided not to.”

  “The wolf might hear him,” said Michael.

  “And eat Rainbow,” said Stefan.

  “That’s right. So he went quietly. And every few minutes he would stop and listen. He would turn his head slowly and listen very hard in every direction.”

  “Like this,” said Michael. He turned his head slowly from side to side.

  “Yes. Do you know what he was listening for?” said Michael’s father.

  “Clucking!” cried the boys.

  “Yes. For a long time he heard nothing but the wind sighing in the pine trees and the birds chirping. And then, after a while, very faintly, far away, he heard it. ‘Cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck. Cluck, cluck, cluck.’ Rainbow! He turned his head this way and that way trying to decide where the clucking came from, and then he set off in what he thought was the right direction.”

  “As fast as his legs would carry him,” said Michael.

  “But quietly,” said his father, “so as not to alarm the wolf. But to his great disappointment the clucking grew fainter instead of louder. Why was that?”

  “Rainbow was getting tired?” said Stefan.

  “No.”

  “The wolf took Rainbow in his den!” cried Michael.

  “No. The clucking grew fainter because Jimmy was traveling in the wrong direction.”

  “Oh, yes,” said the boys, snuggling harder against the front seat.

  “So Jimmy Tractorwheel, instead of going so much this way, started going a little more that way, and the cluck-cluck-clucking grew louder and louder and louder. He was almost to the clearing. He took off his sneakers and walked in his stocking feet, on tiptoe; tip ... toe ... tip ... toe. So-o-o-o quietly.

  “Suddenly—DING DONG, DING DONG!—he heard a bell ringing. What could it be? He lay flat on his belly and peeked around a juniper bush and there in the clearing before him what did he see? Rainbow the hen—and across the clearing, in front of his den, stood the wolf, Waldo, wearing a dirty old pink apron.”