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 ............