There was a time when the world was mostly forest. There were plains, to be sure, and rich valleys, but the trees were everywhere, so that even the towns and farms were hidden by them; and there were no great cities at all.
It was then that the animals lived in peace, and they were not driven to hide themselves, nor to be always moving farther and farther away to find new shelters.
But the days came when the forests were cut away. A little at a time, and always along the edges of the woods, men began to hack and to chop and to saw, until one by one the great trees came down. With them as they crashed to the earth came the birds' nests; and where the trees had stood, the mosses and the grass dried up and died, for the hot sun poured in where once it had been shady and cool.
In the days when this began it distressed the animals; so that the poor creatures at last resorted to a wonderful plan. To them the woods were very dear, and never were they frightened at what they saw or heard; although the depths of the forest were so full of terrors to foolish men.
News was spread through the glens and across the mountains that something was going to be done to save the woods. The birds and the swift, scampering little weasels, and the soft-footed wildcat, who can cover many miles and never be seen or heard, took the messages far and away. Time was allowed; for the beaver and the mud-turtle were necessary to the plan, and even at her best Mrs. Beaver is slow in her motions. It was none other than crafty old Major Wolf who had conceived the plan by which they would teach the wood-cutters a lesson.
"Such simple and foolish creatures they are!" he remarked. "We've only to frighten them out of their wits, by some device or other, and if we scare them enough they'll keep away from these woods forever!"
With that he snapped his terrible jaws and turned his great yellow eyes on the company. Before him and around him were all the animals of the forest. The deer, who could think of nothing to do but to run, the fox, who knew every possible way of deceiving his enemies, the bear and the panther and many of the small creatures, down to the sleek little mole, were all talking at once.
The bear and the wildcat were very impatient. They were all for fighting outright.
"You hug and I'll scratch," said the lynx to the bear.
"We can do up an army of choppers if we get the chance," added the panther; but he was lost in the debate, for the wisest of all, the great gray wolf, reminded them that if the men with their axes so much as caught sight of the animals, they would go away only to come back with their guns and to fill the forest with every conceivable trap.
Then he pointed to a great, dead tree which stood alone and on the brow of the hill. The animals looked and tried to get his meaning. Some of them yawned, such as the hedgehog, whose wits are slow; but the quick Mrs. Fox jumped and cried, "That's it, that's it! We'll make that tree into a giant to guard the path to our woods."
Then Major Wolf exclaimed that the sagacious fox had guessed his plan.
The wind and the frost had bent and broken the tree until it was like nothing in the world so much as a giant. Its arms were there and its shoulders; and its terrible body, as high as the church steeple, was bent forward as if to fall on any one so rash as to come near it. But it needed a great deal of what the heron called "touching up"; for the heron is an artist, and goes every year, they say, to study the sculptures of Egypt.
"It needs a mouth and two eyes, as any one can see for himself," the lynx remarked; and the mole and the hedgehog suggested that the feet might be improved. Here was the task for the beavers; for carving and cabinet work is their specialty. And to chisel great holes for the eyes and the mouth was exactly what the woodpeckers and the squirrels could do.
The work was so briskly done, that it was indeed completed before the admiring circle could gasp out its astonishment. While the chips and the saw-dust were flying, Major Wolf was moved to observe in the most pious tones:
"How marvelous that these poor little cousins of ours, these smaller, gnawing creatures (if I may call them such without hurting their feelings) should alone be able to serve the purposes of us more noble beasts."
And he waved his paw to include the bear and the panther in the nobility.
But the gentle Mrs. Deer knew what a terrible hypocrite Major Wolf was. And she moved with her children to the other side of the meeting; for she had watched his mouth water even as he spoke such wonderful sentiments.
The squirrel was boring away at the great giant's limbs, carving and cutting; and even the slow old turtle, with his powerful nippers, was pruning the tangle of vines from the feet.
But the morning was close at hand. The wood creatures had barely enough time to complete their work and scamper off. They crouched in the bushes to await the effect of their scheme. And even though they knew the giant was no giant at all, but just a great, dead tree, they were awestruck at the result of their work.
As if to add to the strength of their purpose, the sun was rising in a terrible glory of red, with the blackest of clouds all round.
It was terrible. The red light of the morning, through the gaping mouth and awful eyes, the waving arms and the immensity of the giant were frightful.
The wood-cutters came. But only one of them got as far as the tree. With a howl of fear, he turned and fled, dropping his ax as he ran. He told of the awful giant with eyes and mouth of fire, and the others refused to come near.
The animals were greatly elated; but the wisest of them knew that some day the foolish wood-cutters would find out the truth. And such was the case; although it was a long, long time, and the great giant which the animals made warded off their enemies for many a year.