the teenie weenies had known for some time that a tribe of tiny wild men lived in a big swamp many teenie weenie miles from the shoe house. field mice and birds had carried the news of these strange little people to the teenie weenies. the wild men lived in the heart of a big forest and they spoke a language quite different from the teenie weenies.
“these wild men are very cruel,” a friendly bird told the teenie weenies. “they are called saboes, or frog eaters, and they would just as soon destroy a person as look at him.”
“well, they will never hurt us,” the general said, “for we shall leave them alone and, besides, they live a great distance from the shoe house.”
“well, you’d better watch out for them; there are a great many of these wild men and you can never tell when they might come along,” said the bird, who was a mourning dove and always looked on the dark side of things.
the teenie weenies didn’t worry about the wild men much, for they lived so far away and, besides, there was the teenie weenie army ever ready to protect them against an enemy. but the little people soon had cause for worry, for a dreadful thing happened.
one afternoon a snail raced slowly up to the shoe house with alarming news—the lady of fashion and the poet had been captured by the wild men!
“gracious!” gasped the general. “how did you find this out?”
“i-i-i-i saw them captured,” answered the snail. “the wild men took them and put them in their boat and paddled down the creek. there must have been five or six of the wild men. they all had bows and arrows and spears too, and they looked terribly fierce.”
“ring the bell,” cried the general. “we’ll have a great council and see what can be done.”
several of the teenie weenies ran to the old derby hat which served the little people as a school house and armory, and began furiously to ring the tiny bell. all the birds and animals who lived near the little village knew that when the bell rang long and loud it was a signal for them to come. in a few minutes, two birds flew under the rose bush where the village stood and one by one, several mice, a squirrel and a couple of intelligent-looking bugs appeared.
“friends,” said the general, addressing the assembled crowd, “i have terrible news! the lady of fashion and the poet have been captured by the wild men. this—this snail here has just brought the report.”
the teenie weenies and their friends were much shocked by the news, while the snail strutted about, feeling quite important at being the bearer of such an exciting message.
“when did this happen?” asked the mouse with a squeaky voice.
“about five or six hours ago,” answered the snail. “i was walkin’ near the creek when—”
“five or six hours ago!” shouted the general, turning on the snail. “for the land’s sake, why didn’t you come immediately?”
“i-i-i did,” answered the snail, with an injured expression. “i came just as fast as i could crawl.”
“of course you did,” said the general kindly. “i beg your pardon. i forgot for the moment that you do not move as fast as most of us.” the snail, who had rather a sensitive nature, was quite hurt by the general’s words and it instantly shrank back into its shell.
after some talk it was decided to scatter up and down the creek in search of the lost teenie weenies. the birds flew up and down the creek until it was quite too dark for them to see, while the little people and the rest of their friends hunted all through the night without a sign of the lady of fashion and the poet.
