Chapter II: Part 2

When he opened his eyes the next morning, he stretched himself, and blinked hard at the circular roof over his head, wondering what sort of a house he was in now. It took some time for his brain to recall the events of the previous night. Then he sat up and smiled.

"Ho! Ho!" he laughed. "Carlo must have had a long, cold wait outside for me. I think I'll take a peek at him."

He was really anxious to see if the little girl was up yet, and if she had missed him. He had perfect confidence in her, and knew that she would call off the dog the instant she saw him.

Bumper could see that it was morning, for the bright light shining through the big end of the drain-pipe proved that. He crawled along cautiously, making as little noise as possible. If Carlo was waiting at the entrance to pounce upon him, he wasn't going to be caught napping.

Another thing which drew him toward the mouth of the pipe was the fragrant odor of good things from the garden. In spite of the big feast of the night before, Bumper was hungry again, and he longed to get back in the garden and devour a few more carrots and crisp lettuce leaves.

He was within a few feet of the mouth of the drain-pipe, quite confident that Carlo had grown tired of watching and left, when a shadow came between him and the light. Bumper caught sight of a head and forelegs thrust into the opening, and then, without stopping for further investigation, he turned tail and ran back. There was a wild scampering and scraping behind him, and he knew that Carlo was pursuing him in the hole.

But Carlo couldn't follow him very far. The pipe narrowed so that there was just room for Bumper to squeeze through, and no dog, certainly not a big dog like Carlo, could catch him in there. When he reached the place where he had spent the night, he stopped to look around him.

Horror of Horrors! Carlo or some other animal was close behind him, blocking the entire entrance to the hole. Bumper could hear him scraping along, and could almost feel his breath. A shiver of terror went clear through him. In some strange manner the hole had been enlarged over night, or Carlo had shrunk in size, or what seemed more probable, another dog much smaller had taken up the pursuit.

With a little yip of fear, Bumper scrambled onward again, making his way through the drain-pipe as fast as his feet would permit, which, after all, was not so very fast, for he slipped and lost his footing a dozen times, and once fell all in a heap where an elbow in the pipe brought him to an abrupt stop. There were two holes opening before him, one leading to the right and the other to the left.

Bumper chose the one to the right, and so did the animal pursuing him. The race continued until the rabbit came to another branch where there seemed to be three holes leading off into different directions. Bumper chose the middle One blindly, and ran through it for dear life.

It was very dark, and it was impossible for him to tell where he was going. His one great desire was to escape the pursuing dog or other animal close behind him. Consequently, he was unprepared for the sudden climax of his adventure.

The narrow tunnel came to an abrupt ending, and when Bumper shot out of it he landed in a big, circular space that gave him plenty of opportunity to turn around and look at his enemy. He had no more idea what kind of a place he was in now than before. It was all so strange to him.

"Hello!" a voice called to him out of the small hole.

Bumper looked up, and saw a big Sewer Rat grinning at him from the mouth of the drain-pipe.

"I never saw a rabbit run faster in all my days," laughed Mr. Sewer Rat. "I couldn't keep up with you. What did you think was after you?"

Bumper was very angry and indignant now that he realized his flight was all unnecessary. He disliked Mr. Sewer Rat and all his tribe, for they had often made their way into the old woman's backyard to annoy the young bunnies. Besides his bad manners and uncouth ways, the Sewer Rat was disgustingly dirty in his habits. How could he be otherwise when he chose to live in sewers rather than in clean quarters above ground?

"Why were _you_ running so fast?" asked Bumper, not willing to admit the rat had frightened him.

"Just to frighten you," was the retort. "I wanted to give you the scare of your life, and I guess I did."

"Oh, no," replied Bumper, assuming an air of dignity. "I wasn't really frightened so long as I knew you were behind me. Carlo couldn't catch me until he nabbed you."

"Carlo! Who's Carlo!" demanded the Sewer Rat, pretending ignorance.

"Oh! Ho!" laughed Bumper. "Don't pretend that Carlo, the dog, wasn't after you. Didn't I see him chase you in the hole? And how frightened you looked! Why, it nearly made me die with laughter."

Mr. Sewer Rat puffed up his cheeks and gnashed his long, white teeth angrily. Bumper's fling had hit the mark.

"If Carlo ever touches me," he said, "I'll bite his nose so he'll remember it. Who's afraid of an old dog like Carlo?"

"You are, I should say," smiled the white rabbit.

The Sewer Rat started to deny this, and then thought better of it. "Well, I wasn't more frightened than you, Mr. White Rabbit. You're as pale as a ghost this very minute."

"That's a good one," laughed Bumper. "Pale as a ghost! Why, I'm whiter than snow all the time. How could I get paler?"

Mr. Sewer Rat gnashed his teeth again, and swished his long tail. He was plainly angry and discomfitted. So he retorted maliciously:

"You're not white at all. You're so dirty your own mother wouldn't know you. White! Oh! Ho! Ho! I wish you could see yourself."

Bumper did see himself, or, at least, a part of himself. Both front paws were muddy; his long ears were covered with iron rust; his fat cheeks were dusty and cobwebby, and to the ends of his whiskers clung specks of dirt. In his progress through the drain-pipe he had accumulated sufficient dirt to change his color from pure white to a rusty gray.

"I can soon clean myself," he remarked, "and the little girl with the red hair will help me. Is that the hole that leads back to the garden?"

The Sewer Rat suddenly blinked his wicked little eyes. "Yes," he replied, "if you know the right turns to take. If you don't you'll get lost, and never find your way out."

"I think I know my way back," said Bumper, hesitatingly. He hated to ask favors of the Sewer Rat, but when the latter volunteered information he was grateful for it.

"You'll find a better way back to the garden by following the abandoned sewer you're standing in. Keep straight on to the end. It's much better than crawling back through this small drain-pipe."

"Thank you!" replied Bumper. "I believe I'll go back that way!"

"All right, then. I must be going to my family. I haven't had my breakfast yet. Good morning!"

Bumper thanked him again, and turned to follow the sewer back to the garden, not realizing that the Rat had purposely deceived him out of revenge.

STORY VIII

BUMPER RUNS INTO A NEST OF BATS

The way back to the garden seemed a long one, and Bumper soon began to entertain doubts about the kindness of Mr. Sewer Rat. It was an old abandoned sewer, with plenty of room in it for a whole colony of rabbits, but it was terribly dirty and damp. The musty odor was so different from the pleasant fragrance of the garden he had recently left.

"I must have traveled miles and miles," he thought after a while, stopping to clean off some of the dirt that clung to his white fur. "Either that Rat didn't know what he was talking about, or he told a whopping fib. They always were sneaky animals, the Sewer Rats, and I shouldn't have listened to him."

He stopped to consider whether he shouldn't turn around and retrace his steps; but he was disturbed by the fear that he could never recognize the mouth of the drain-pipe he had come through. He had passed a number of these black holes on his way, all looking alike.

"I should have counted them, and then I'd know which one was mine," he reflected.

But there was no good crying over spilt milk. He was in the abandoned sewer, and he had to find his way out somehow. Meanwhile, he was getting desperately hungry. Oh, for a mouthful of the succulent grass that grew in the garden, or a cabbage leaf or a piece of celery--anything, in fact, that would satisfy that gnawing at the stomach!

"Ah, well!" he sighed. "I must keep going until I find something to eat. There must be other gardens, and this sewer must lead somewhere."

In a little while he became so thirsty that a drink of water seemed even more desirable than a bite of food. He tried to lick some of the moisture from the sides of the sewer, but that was only aggravating. It seemed to increase rather than diminish his thirst.

One hopeful feature of his adventure was that the big sewer seemed to grow lighter as he proceeded, and he was sure he was coming near the end. But before this hope was realized he stumbled upon something that gave him a shock.

Just ahead of him something long and black hung from the roof of the sewer, reaching down almost to the bottom. Bumper stopped to gaze critically at it, his little heart beating with apprehension. Was this the shadow of some strange animal, or was it simply an innocent log of wood that had got wedged in the sewer?

As it didn't move, and was perfectly noiseless, Bumper concluded that it was harmless, and so he approached it and after sniffing at it began nibbling the lower part. Suddenly there was a loud squeak, and the big shadow seemed to part in the middle and fly in every direction. It took wings so strangely that Bumper was more astounded than frightened.

The sewer was filled with black shadows that flitted all around him. Then followed a babel of noisy squeaks. Some came so close to his ears that he dodged and ducked in fear. One pair of sharp beaks caught him on the tip of his nose and made him squeal, and another nipped the back of his head. He was too surprised and frightened by this time to run, and he tried to defend himself with his two front paws.

"It's the Sewer Rat! Bite him! Tweak his nose! Snap his tail! Tear out his eyes!"

The air was filled with these faint cries before Bumper began to realize just what he was up against. He had run into a big bunch of bats sleeping in the abandoned sewer, and his nibbling at them had alarmed and angered them. It was apparent from their remarks that they mistook him for Mr. Sewer Rat, who perhaps had annoyed them many times before, and had even threatened to devour some of them.

"I'm not the Sewer Rat!" cried Bumper. "Please don't snap out my eyes! I didn't mean to disturb you! Wait! Wait, until I can explain!"

"Who are you? And what are you, then?" cried the biggest and fiercest of the bats, coming so close that his eyes looked like pin-points of light.

"I'm Bumper, the white rabbit!"

There was a pause, and the flittering wings seemed to stop beating the air.

"Bumper, the white rabbit! Who ever heard of a white rabbit! All rabbits are brown or gray."

It was the big bat speaking for the others, but they all joined him in gnashing their teeth and in whipping the air with their soft, almost noiseless, wings.

"But I assure you I am a white rabbit," replied Bumper. "Come and look at me."

This challenge seemed fair, and some of the smaller bats approached nearer, but the leader warned them back. "Keep away! It's the Sewer Rat in disguise. It's a trick of his to catch you."

"Is the Sewer Rat white?" interrupted Bumper.

"No, not unless he's been whitewashed or been sleeping in a barrel of flour."

Bumper had to smile at this, for he recalled once how a big rat had been caught in a bag of flour by the old woman who kept rabbits, and his hair was as white as that of the whitest rabbit.

"I can assure you, Mr. Bat, I haven't been whitewashed, and I haven't been sleeping in flour. Look at my ears. Does Mr. Sewer Rat have long ears like mine?"

"No, but he could disguise them by using pieces of white paper. I wouldn't trust him a minute."

In desperation, Bumper then added: "But look at my tail! Did a Sewer Rat or any other kind of a Rat have a tail like mine?"

"Where is it?" asked the big Bat. "I don't see any tail at all. All rabbits have white tails, and you haven't any at all."

Bumper wagged the stump of tail that he thought would convince the bats, but for a moment, he wasn't exactly sure that he saw it himself. Instead of a white, fluffy stub of a tail as soft as cotton, he saw the dirtiest, blackest wad of hair waving in the air that had ever disgraced a rabbit. The truth flashed upon his mind in an instant. What he had supposed to be the blindness of the bats was nothing more than a most natural circumstance.

He was so black with the dust and mud of the drain-pipe that it was misleading to call himself a white rabbit. He was far from it. He was as dark as any wild rabbit of the woods--darker, in fact, for there was no white fur under his stomach or around his stubby tail.

He was so confused by this discovery that he could not find his tongue to make reply. The Bats, accepting his silence as proof that his deception had been found out, suddenly beat their wings and set up a terrible uproar.

"It's the Sewer Rat in disguise!" shouted the big leader of the Bats. "Now we'll punish him! Drive him out of the sewer! Peck out his eyes!"

Bumper stopped just long enough to realize that he had no chance in a fight against all those whirring wings and little gnashing teeth. If he was to escape at all, he had to get a start on the bats. Even though flight seemed to confirm the suspicions of the Bats, he turned and fled as fast as his four legs would carry him.

There was plenty of room in the sewer, and Bumper made such tremendous strides that he outdistanced all but a few of the leaders. They tried to land on his back and claw him, but he shook them off, and dodged this way and that, until the light ahead suddenly became so strong and blinding that the bats gave up the chase.

When Bumper finally came to the mouth of the sewer, he was all out of breath, but the view ahead compensated for a lot of his troubles. He could see the blue sky; green fields and waving trees, and near-by the rippling surface of a lake or river. It looked like Paradise after the darkness of the sewer; but all things that glitter, he found out, are not gold, and every earthly Paradise seems to have its serpent lurking somewhere around in the grass.

STORY IX

BUMPER ESCAPES ON A RAFT

Bumper took a long time to rest and get back some of his breath before he ventured to the very mouth of the open sewer. As soon as he was sure that the bats had abandoned the chase, he threw himself down and closed his eyes from sheer weariness and exhaustion. Then, with returning strength and hope, he raised himself on his two hind legs, and looked around him.

There was water at the mouth of the sewer, and he hopped toward it eagerly. After lapping enough to satisfy his thirst, he began bathing himself. He had never been so dirty before in all his life. He was thankful the red-haired girl wasn't there to see him. She would perhaps disown him.

This thought soothed his feelings a little, and he splashed around in the water until most of the dust and dirt was washed off. Then finding a sunny spot near the entrance, he hopped to it, and sprawled himself out to dry.

Meanwhile, he began examining his surroundings very carefully, and a little anxiously. The sewer dipped down into the river and disappeared from view, and on either side of it, and above it, were very steep walls. No rabbit could climb them. The only other possible way out of the sewer was by swimming.

Now Bumper had never learned to swim. Perhaps he could do it without learning, but he felt afraid. None of his family had been swimmers, and the river was certainly deep. From his place in the sun he could not see bottom.

Once more the thought of returning to the garden by the way he had come occurred to him; but memory of the fierce bats and the Sewer Rat immediately banished all ideas of this kind from his mind. "I'd never go through that dark sewer again for anything," he said, shuddering. "I must go on until I find another way back to the little girl."

Bumper's one desire was to return to Edith. He was sorry now that he had ever jumped out of his pen. If he had been contented and stayed where the red-haired girl had put him, he would be eating delicious grass and vegetables now instead of lying there alone, hungry and afraid to go on or go back.

His hunger came back to him, and gave him a sharp pain in the stomach. "I must have something to eat," he said. "I'm nearly famished."

But there was really nothing in sight that he could eat--not a spear of grass nor a leaf. Then, just as if to prove to him that manna sometimes falls from heaven to feed even poor, destitute rabbits, a big leaf came floating down on the wind and fell almost at his feet. Bumper grabbed it, and began chewing it greedily.

"Oh, you mean, horrid thing!" chirped a voice. "That leaf belonged to me. It was for my nest, and the wind blew it out of my bill."

Bumper looked up, and saw a small sparrow perched on the top of the embankment over his head.

"I didn't know it was yours, Mrs. Sparrow," Bumper replied. "I thought the wind just blew it to me."

"Well, you know it now. Please give it to me."

Bumper held the leaf in his mouth, with half of it already chewed up. It tasted so good that the thought of abandoning it was more than he could stand.

"If you need it more than I do, Mrs. Sparrow," he said, "I'll give it to you. But you must prove it."

"Why, of course I do. I need it for my nest."

"And I need it to keep me from starving."

Mrs. Sparrow cocked her head sideways and looked queerly at him. "You don't look as if you were starving," she observed. "You're as plump and sleek as any rabbit I ever saw."

"Maybe. But I haven't had any breakfast, and I'm not used to it. This leaf tastes so good I wish I had a hundred more of them."

"Then why don't you go and get them? There are plenty in the park and woods."

"But how am I going to get them?" asked Bumper. "Don't you see I'm caught here in the mouth of the sewer. I can't get out without swimming."

Mrs. Sparrow looked surprised at this information, and flew from her perch on the embankment to a stone below. She cocked her head sideways, and looked all around her.

"What puzzles me," she said finally, "is how you ever got in there without swimming. You can't fly."

Bumper smiled, and shook his head. "No, but I wish I could. I wouldn't stay here arguing with you about this leaf but fly away and get a good breakfast of a lot of them."

"Are you really so hungry, Mr. White Rabbit?"

"Indeed, I am nearly famished."

And then he told Mrs. Sparrow of his adventures in the drain-pipe of the garden and the big abandoned sewer. Mrs. Sparrow was evidently affected by his recital, for she immediately flew away and soon returned with another green leaf.

"Now eat that, and I'll get you another," she said. "I know what it is to go without breakfast and dinner. I've had to do it many times. Now eat your full."

Bumper devoured the leaf so quickly that it seemed as if he must have swallowed it without chewing it. "You see, Mrs. Sparrow," he remarked, "you couldn't feed me enough. I have a very big appetite. Why, I could eat leaves much faster than you could bring them to me."

"So it seems," murmured the sparrow in a little surprised voice. "I never realized how much some animals can eat at once. I don't think I can do more than just take the edge of your appetite off."

"That's very kind of you. And I shall be grateful to you! If you'll bring me just a few more leaves, I will then ask you to direct me back to the little girl's garden."

"I'm sure I'd like to, but there are so many gardens around, and they all look alike."

"But there's only one with a red-haired girl in it," replied Bumper. "Can't you fly away, and find her?"

"I'll try," said Mrs. Sparrow.

So after feeding Bumper a few more green leaves, she flew away to find the garden. She was gone so long that Bumper got very restless and discouraged. The few leaves hadn't satisfied his hunger; they had merely stimulated his desire for more. It was past noon when Mrs. Sparrow finally reappeared at the entrance to the sewer.

"What news?" asked Bumper, eagerly.

"Nothing that's good, Mr. White Rabbit. I flew into garden after garden--and all of them pretty, and full of fruits and vegetables--but there was no red-headed girl in any of them. I saw dogs, too--many of them--but I couldn't tell whether any of them answered to the name of Carlo."

"Then it looks to me," remarked Bumper, "that I'm in for a long swim. Where does this river go to?"

"Way out into the country through beautiful fields and woods," replied Mrs. Sparrow.

"Could I reach them, I wonder! I might drown before I could get ashore."

"Wait!" exclaimed Mrs. Sparrow. "Why not escape on a raft? Here comes a big board down the river. You could hop on it, and not even get wet. Yes, you could do it. It's floating close to the shore."

"Where is it?" exclaimed Bumper, eagerly.

"Right here! Now get ready for a long jump."

Bumper was not only ready, but very anxious, and when the floating board appeared a yard or more from the mouth of the sewer he crouched for a spring. It was a long jump, and Bumper had some doubts about making it; but he put all his strength in it, and hopped high in the air, and landed safely on the raft.

"Hi! How was that for a jump!" he exclaimed, when he stood upright on the board.

"Fine!" said Mrs. Sparrow. "I wish you a good voyage! Good-bye!"

Bumper wagged his ears in reply, and shouted back a hearty farewell. Then he turned to look down the river. He had escaped from the sewer, but evidently he had adventures still ahead, for the river was broad and long, and very swift in places.

STORY X

BUMPER SEES HIS FIRST BLACK CROW

When Bumper floated away from the mouth of the sewer on his raft, he felt quite jubilant, and a little proud of his achievement. He had escaped the bats successfully, and now he had found a way out of the sewer itself. He was so puffed up by these exploits that he wasn't a bit afraid of what might happen to him on the river.

"This is really much better than being cooped up in the old woman's backyard," he reflected. "Not even Jimsy or Wheedles ever dreamed of such adventures as I've had. My! I feel like a great traveler already."

But when the current of the river began to draw his raft away from the shore into the middle, his enthusiasm was not quite so great. The stream grew rougher, and little white caps appeared ahead. His raft began to bob up and down, and pretty soon a wave washed over it and wet Bumper's feet.

This made him very uncomfortable, for a rabbit doesn't like wet feet any more than a cat does. He tried to sit up on his hind legs and dry his front paws, but other waves washed over the raft and wet his haunches. He couldn't very well stand on his front paws, and dry his hind ones, so he had to endure the wet and cold.

The river passed through a beautiful field all aglow with flowers and green grass, but the shore was too far away for Bumper to swim to it. "I'll leave well enough alone," he said, "and stick to my raft."

Then he came to a woods through which the river flowed. It was swampy here, and twigs and tree trunks seemed to grow out of the water long distances from the shore.

"If I can find a tree fallen in the river, I'll hop on it and escape," Bumper reasoned.

He was so absorbed in watching for a chance to escape that he hardly noticed a black shadow hovering over him. Not until it approached very close did he duck his head and look up.

"Caw! Caw!"

It was a big, black crow. Now Bumper had never seen a crow. In fact, he had never seen any of the wild animals of the woods, for it must be remembered that he was born in the city. Of course, he had seen plenty of sparrows, for they live in the cities, and also sewer rats. A few bats had also flown over the old woman's backyard on warm nights hunting insects, and Bumper was more or less acquainted with them.

But a crow! He didn't know what it was. So when the loud, raucous cry assailed his ears, he squatted down on his raft, expecting every minute to be attacked by the black shadow above.

"Caw! Caw!" screamed the big bird.

"Mr. Caw! Mr. Caw!" cried Bumper, supposing that was the bird's name. "Good morning! How do you do?"

Now, the crow is very sensitive about his inability to sing. He used to think that cawing was singing until the birds all laughed at him. After that he kept by himself, and very rarely joined the other birds in the woods or fields.

Bumper's calling him by that name very naturally angered him. It was a slight, a slur upon his voice, and he resented it at once. It must be remembered also that the crow had never seen a white rabbit before, and Bumper's appearance floating on the plank had excited the bird's curiosity. White rabbits don't run wild in the woods, and Bumper was almost as much a mystery to the crow as the latter was to the former. All the rabbits Mr. Crow knew were gray or brown, with a white belly and tail, and none of them had pink eyes. So it was quite natural that the black bird should be curious and surprised at the sight of a pure white rabbit, with pink eyes, floating down the river on a raft.

"Caw! Caw!" screamed the crow, flapping his wings so that the wind made by them ruffled Bumper's hair.

"Yes, yes, Mr. Caw. I understand," replied Bumper, getting excited by the nearness of this big, black thing.

"How dare you make fun of me!" cried Mr. Crow, striking the tip of Bumper's ears with his wings. "I'll teach you to laugh at my voice."

With that he struck out with both wings, and nearly upset Bumper from his raft. Frightened by this exhibition of anger, Bumper's teeth chattered, and his voice shook.

"I wasn't making fun of your voice, Mr. Caw," he said. "I think it's a very sweet and pleasant voice. Please don't upset my raft."

The crow, a little mollified by this flattery, circled around the raft, and surveyed the scene below with eyes filled with curiosity.

"What are you, anyway?" he called down at last. "You look like Mr. Rabbit, but I never saw one so white before. What's your name? And what are you doing on that raft?"

"I'm Bumper, the White Rabbit, and--"

"Rabbits are never white," interrupted the crow.

"But I assure you I am."

"Then you're not a rabbit. You're something else."

Bumper smiled and tried to look pleased. "Would you be something else if you were white?" he asked.

Now this reference to an old fable of the crows touched a sensitive spot. There were white crows, or at least there were rumors of them, and every crow liked to believe the story was true. If one white crow, then why not more? Why shouldn't all crows be white?

"Did you ever see a white crow?" the bird asked.

"Crow! Crow!" stammered Bumper. "Is that your name? I'm sorry, Mr. Crow, I made a mistake. You see, I'm from the city, and crows don't live there."

"No, I should say not--unless the white ones do." He came nearer and showed excitement. "Answer me. Did you ever see a white crow? If all rabbits from the city are white, then maybe that's where the white crows come from."

Now Bumper was learning shrewdness, and he saw right away through the vanity of the bird that had him at his mercy. So, instead of answering directly, he pretended that he knew a great deal more than he did.

"I'm surprised, Mr. Crow," he said, "that you've never been in the city to see for yourself. You really mean to tell me you've never been in the city?"

"Why, no, it's not a place for crows."

"Maybe not for black ones, but white crows are perfectly safe there, the same as white rabbits. I never saw one hurt there."

"Don't men shoot them?"

"No. People don't shoot birds and animals in the city. They're not allowed to carry guns at all. You're really safer than out here in the country."

"But there's nothing to eat in the city--not for crows. Is there?"

"All the white crows I knew were well fed. And the sparrows get plenty. People feed them sometimes in the park. Why, there are squirrels that have all the nuts they can eat, and they don't have to hunt for them."

"White squirrels?" interrupted Mr. Crow, eagerly.

"Did you ever see a white squirrel, Mr. Crow?" asked Bumper, instead of answering this question.

"No, I never did."

"Then," sighing, "I'm afraid there are none."

Mr. Crow wasn't so much interested in white squirrels as in white crows, and he dismissed the matter from his mind. After a pause, he added: "I believe I'll take a trip to the city, if there's no danger. I'd like to visit some of the white crows. It may be if I stay with them in the city, I'll turn white, too."

Bumper didn't want to deceive him, but he was still afraid of him. Instead of answering directly, he asked: "Before you go, Mr. Crow, can't you help me to get ashore? I'm very tired of this raft. You make so much wind with your beautiful wings, I'm sure you could blow me inshore with them."

"Yes, I suppose I could," was the reply. "Well, since you were kind enough to tell me about my relatives in the city, I'll help you."

He began beating his wings violently, and the wind from them nearly blew Bumper off the raft, but the board floated closer and closer to the shore until the rabbit with a hop landed on it, and bade the crow good-bye.

STORY XI

BUMPER MEETS A FOX

When the White Rabbit hopped ashore from his raft, he was so happy that he gave the board a kick with his two hind legs, and sent it spinning far out into the stream. He supposed that he was all alone, and no one had seen him land, but he was surprised when a voice near him cried out:

"Look out! What are you trying to do?"

There was a flop in the water, and when Bumper turned he saw a queer looking fish swimming toward the shore, using his hind legs instead of fins to propel him along. He had big, staring eyes, and a green head, with white under his throat.

"That's what I call a mean trick!" the swimmer added, hopping upon a lily-pad, for it was Mr. Bull-Frog that Bumper had mistaken for a queer fish. "You upset me from that leaf and disturbed my sleep. If I hadn't been an excellent swimmer I should have been dead by this time."

"What did I do?" asked Bumper, in surprise.

"What did you do?" was the indignant retort. "What but push that board against my lily-pad and knock me in the water! I call that doing a good deal."

Bumper was inclined to laugh at the angry Bull-Frog, who was swelling up to twice his usual size and puffing out his cheeks; but he refrained from this when he realized that he had unintentionally disturbed the frog's noonday siesta. So he answered in a friendly way, hoping to pacify his feelings.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Frog, but I didn't see you on the lily-pad. The fact is, your head is exactly the color of the lily-pad, and no one could distinguish it a few feet away. What a lovely green it is, too--your head, I mean."

Mr. Bull-Frog was apparently as susceptible to flattery as Mr. Crow, and his ruffled feelings began to subside. "Yes, I fancy it is a pretty green," he said. "I've always heard that the lily was the prettiest of flowers, and that's why my family is attracted by it. Would you like to sun yourself on one of these pads? They're very soft and cool."

"No, thank you," laughed Bumper, "I'm afraid I'd get my feet wet. Besides, I'm desperately hungry. If you don't mind I'll eat some of these delicious leaves and grasses."

"Go ahead. I don't mind. But I can't see what you like about them to eat."

"Neither can I see why a frog likes flies and insects. Ugh! The thought of eating them makes me sick."

"Well," remarked Mr. Frog, "I suppose every one to his taste. As for me, I prefer flies and worms, and--"

He stopped suddenly, and looked through the low brush into the woods back of the river front. Bumper was so busy filling his little stomach with green, succulent things that he scarcely noticed the other's hesitation.

"--and," continued Mr. Frog, after a pause, "some animals prefer eating rats, lizards, toads, and rabbits."

"Rabbits!" exclaimed Bumper. "Who eats rabbits?"

"Mr. Fox for one," answered the Frog, "and if my eyes don't deceive me there's one in the bushes waiting to eat you. If you'll excuse me, I'll take a dive. I've known Mr. Fox to eat frogs when he was very hungry."

There was a flop in the water, and the bullfrog disappeared from sight. Bumper reared up on his hind legs and looked around him. He had never seen a fox, but his mother had often told him tales about their cruelty. They were forever hunting little rabbits to eat, and they were as sly and cunning as they were barbarous.

Bumper's quick eyes caught sight of Mr. Fox hiding in the bushes, and, for a moment, his heart beat a loud tattoo. What was he to do? Jump back in the river and try to swim across to the opposite shore, or face the fox and try to escape from him by running?

The woods were very thick all along the river's bank, and there were many good hiding-places; but Mr. Fox stood ready to head him off either way he ran. Bumper was in a quandary just what to do.

"Good morning, Mr. Fox!" he called, hoping to gain time by being polite and friendly.

Mr. Fox sniffed the air, raising his nose several inches above his head. He seemed quite uncertain about something, but his nose apparently satisfied him.

"Good morning," he answered finally, grinning. "But what a joke you played on me, Mr. Rabbit. I couldn't believe my own eyes. What's happened to you?"

"Why, nothing," stammered Bumper, mystified. "Why do you ask such a question."

"Why? Because you're all white. I thought first you were a ghost. And your eyes--they're pink. Whoever heard of a white rabbit with pink eyes?"

Bumper was quick to see the cause of the fox's surprise. Like the crow, he had never seen a white rabbit before, and he suddenly gained confidence by this knowledge.

"How do you know I'm not a ghost?" he asked, smiling.

"How do I know? Ha! Ha! That's a good one! But I'll tell you how I know. I smell you. No ghost could have that delicious rabbit smell that fills my nose every time the wind blows toward me."

Bumper, for the lack of any words to say, laughed long and hard at this remark. Then he controlled himself, and added: "I wouldn't trust my nose, Mr. Fox. A rabbit's ghost might smell just as sweet and delicious as a real one."

"I don't believe it," grinned Mr. Fox. "Anyway, I'm going to find out. If you're a ghost, why, it will be easy enough for you to disappear."

"Yes, of course, but I should hate to disappoint you. Now, do you know where rabbits go when they die?"

"Yes, in my stomach."

Mr. Fox laughed long and loud at this cruel joke, and Bumper winced; but he was playing for time to think of a plan to escape. Evidently Mr. Fox was not to be outwitted by flattery, and he determined upon another ruse.

There was a fallen tree near him, but to reach it he would have to advance a few feet straight toward the fox. The heart of the tree was rotten and hollow, and to escape in this was Bumper's design. But how to distract Mr. Fox's attention until he could reach it was the question.

"Oh, Mr. Fox," he said suddenly, "I met Mr. Crow on the river, and he asked me about the white crows in the city. When I told him, he flew away to the city to see if living there would turn him white. That's a joke on Mr. Crow all right, isn't it?"

"Yes--but are there white crows in the city?"

"There are white rabbits. Then why not white crows, and white foxes?"

"White foxes?"

"Yes, why not? Didn't you ever see one?"

"No, but I've heard of them, it seems to me, but they live way up north, don't they?"

"If you want to see one now," continued Bumper, "look at the sun for ten seconds, and sneeze twice, and then--"

"What then?"

"Do as I tell you, and then I'll tell you the rest."

Mr. Fox, after all, was a little vain, or at least very curious, and this strange proposition interested him. He raised his head, and looked straight into the blinding sun.

"Now count--one, two, three, four, and sneeze," added Bumper.

No fox can look hard at the sun long without sneezing, and after counting six this one nearly sneezed his head off. That was what Bumper was waiting for. He made a dive for the hollow tree, and got inside of it. When Mr. Fox reached the log, and found the hole too small for him, he was quite mad, and said: "I'll make you pay for that trick some day, Mr. Rabbit."

STORY XII

BUMPER ADMIRED BY THE BIRDS

It isn't good for us to be too smart. It sometimes makes us vain, and then one day we overdo it. Bumper had some excuse for playing the trick on Mr. Crow and Mr. Fox, for his life depended upon it; but his success was giving him a little swelled head. He began to feel that he could get out of any danger by using his wits.

"It takes a city rabbit to find a way out of difficulty," he reflected, as he lay snugly in the hollow trunk of the tree. "These country animals are dull-witted. I do hope my cousins of the woods are not so stupid. Perhaps they are, and that's why people say rabbits are cunning but very stupid."

This sort of reasoning was the very thing that got him in trouble, and nearly caused his death. He was so sure that he had outwitted Mr. Fox, he decided after a while to leave the hollow trunk, and eat some of the green leaves and branches growing around outside.

But he knew less about the cunning and patience of the fox than he thought. Instead of trotting off in the woods, chagrined and disgusted by his defeat, the fox was lying low ready to pounce on the white rabbit the moment he showed himself. He was so still that Bumper couldn't hear the rustle of a leaf or the snap of a twig.

"I think I'll go out now," Bumper said finally. "I'm dreadfully hungry."

Instead of poking his head out cautiously to investigate, he walked straight from the hollow trunk into the very jaws of the fox. There was a sharp click of teeth, and Bumper felt a terrible pain in one of his long ears. He must have leaped five feet in the air, and another five feet sideways. The fox had missed his neck by an inch, but to make up for this mistake, he now pursued the rabbit, leaping nearly as high in the air to catch him as Bumper.

Terrified by the attack, and not knowing what to do, the white rabbit jumped this way and that, clearing high bushes and landing in dense thickets that tore his fur and hurt him terribly. But the fox followed him, paying no attention to the briers and thorns.

It was a narrow escape. For a moment Bumper thought his time had come. He couldn't get back to the hollow tree trunk, and there was no other hiding-place near that the fox couldn't follow him in.

It certainly would have gone hard with him, and the rest of his adventures could never have been told, if a couple of blue jays hadn't built a nest in a tree directly over him. The commotion in the bushes startled the birds, and with loud, shrill cries they darted down to see what was doing. The sight of the fox angered them. Foxes robbed birds' nests whenever they got a chance, and the blue jays knew this. Therefore, a fox in the neighborhood of their home was not to be tolerated.

They flew down like two blue streaks and landed their sharp bills on the head and face of Mr. Fox. One stroke came so near to one of his eyes that he dodged and ducked, and stopped pursuing Bumper long enough to snap at the birds.

But the blue jays were prepared for this, and they kept well beyond his reach. As soon as he turned from them to the rabbit again they flew back to the attack. They punished him unmercifully, pecking at him until he was so angry that he could hardly see straight.

Meanwhile, of course, Bumper was taking advantage of this interruption. He was running through the underbrush as fast as he could until he was far ahead. Right and left he searched for a hole or any kind of an opening he could crawl in. And there, just ahead of him, appeared what he was looking for! This time it was the hollow branch of a giant tree hanging down, with one end still attached to the trunk.

Bumper was in the hollow branch like a flash. Mr. Fox reached it just a moment too late, and to vent his anger at losing the rabbit the second time he clawed and snapped at the branch as if he would rip it asunder. But the limb, with a decayed heart, had a stout shell, and the fox soon gave it up in disgust.

Now, the hollow branch, as you know, had one end on the ground, and the other still attached to the trunk where the wind had broken it off. So Bumper found his hole slanting upward, and as he crawled through to the other end he was actually climbing a tree. Perhaps you have heard that rabbits can't climb trees, but Bumper did in this instance.

When he reached the upper end, he found himself ten feet from the ground, with Mr. Fox below and unable to reach him. It was such an unusual sight to see a rabbit up a tree that the fox was more puzzled than ever. "Could white rabbits climb trees?" he asked himself.

Between his discouragement at being twice outwitted, and his amazement at finding a white rabbit with pink eyes that could climb a tree, Mr. Fox finally dropped his tail between his legs and trotted away. Bumper watched him go, and sighed with relief. The blue jays were equally relieved in mind, and once more returned to their home to guard it against invasion.

When Bumper stuck his head out of the upper end of the big tree branch, he noticed that he was up among the birds which had been singing a lively concert until he interrupted them. There were birds which Bumper had never seen before, some with startling plumage, and others with voices that sounded like flutes.

They did not renew their singing, but perked their heads sideways and watched this strange thing popping out of the hollow limb. Finally one of them, Mrs. Oriole, clad in a suit of gold, streaked with black and gray, spoke.

"It's Mr. Rabbit's ghost, I do believe. Mr. Fox must have caught him after all."

"If it's a ghost, I'd like to have some of his white fur for my nest," remarked Rusty the Blackbird. "I think I'll steal some."

"He's a pretty lively ghost," warned Piney the Purple Finch. "I wouldn't venture too near."

Bumper blinked his pink eyes at them, and smiled.

"I'm not a ghost yet," he said. "I'm quite alive and well, but very hungry. If you don't mind I'll eat a few of these delicious green leaves."

The birds watched him in silence. They were as curious and puzzled as the Crow had been. Finally, Mr. Pine Grosbeak plucked up courage to approach nearer.

"If you're really alive," he said, "let me pluck some of those beautiful white hairs as souvenirs. I never saw such lovely fur before."

"You can have one hair," laughed Bumper, "just to prove to you that I'm a real live rabbit."

Mr. Pine Grosbeak took him at his word, and plucked a hair from his back. It made Bumper wince.

"Surely you'll give me one, too, for my nest," added Piney the Purple Finch, and without waiting for consent he plucked two. Rusty the Blackbird came swooping down next. "I need some of your beautiful white fur to show my little ones," he said. "I'll take three."

The other birds expressed their admiration, and then begged a few hairs, too. There was Mrs. Crested Flycatcher, and Mrs. Phoebe Bird, and little Towhee the Chewink. The process of extracting a few hairs from his back caused Bumper exquisite pain, but he wanted to be obliging, especially as the birds all admired and flattered him.

But when Mr. Woodpecker, who had been rapping on the dead trees of the woods, appeared, Bumper decided it was time for him to call a halt. "That's all I can spare," he said, and darted back into the hollow branch.

He was glad to make friends with the birds, but he didn't want to be robbed of all the clothes he had.

STORY XIII

BUMPER NEEDS A DOCTOR

It was necessary for Bumper to show a certain amount of firmness with his newly-made friends, and when he finally emerged from the hollow branch again he made a little speech to the birds.

"If you don't mind, dear friends," he said, "I must ask you to stop plucking me any more. I really can't afford to lose my fur. It's all the protection I have from the rain, and when winter comes I'll need it to keep me warm."

"But a few hairs to line my nest with won't hurt you," pleaded Mrs. Phoebe Bird.

"No," replied Bumper firmly, "if I let you have some I must do the same to all the others, and I don't want to offend Towhee the Chewink or Mr. Crested Flycatcher or any of the others. I want to be friends with all of you."

The justice of this was recognized by all the birds, and they decided not to press the question; but they were voluble with their expressions of admiration.

"I never saw such beautiful pink eyes before," remarked Piney the Purple Finch.

"Nor such snow-white fur," added Mr. Pine Grosbeak.

"I never knew there was such a thing as a white rabbit in the world," said Rusty the Blackbird.

Bumper could not feel other than puffed up by such remarks, but he tried to hide it from his new friends.

"Are all the rabbits in the woods brown or gray, then?" he asked. "I should like to see them. Do they live around here?"

"Yes," replied the Purple Finch, "but they're very much frightened and keep to their burrows since Mr. Fox came here to live."

"I should like to find them," sighed Bumper. "The fact is, I'm lonesome, and a little bit homesick. I'm not used to the woods, and I should dearly like to find some of my brown cousins so they could teach me things."

"I shouldn't think you needed much teaching," laughed the Red-Headed Woodpecker, tapping the limb with his powerful bill. "Any rabbit that can escape from Mr. Fox and climb a tree as you did must know a great deal."

The other birds nodded their heads at this remark, and Bumper looked pleased at the compliment to his shrewdness.

"Still," he said, "I'd like to meet my country cousins."

"If I see any of them," Rusty the Blackbird replied, "I'll tell them about you. They'll be surprised to know of your coming."

The rest agreed to carry the news to the wild rabbits when they saw them, and Bumper knew that he would soon find his country cousins. He felt that he would be welcome, and safer with them. There were so many puzzling things about the woods that, in spite of his self-confidence, he was often embarrassed.

This conclusion was further impressed upon him very forcibly a few hours later. When he was certain that the fox had left the vicinity for good, he crawled through his tunnel to the ground, and began feeding on the wild grasses, leaves and strange plants that grew so thickly in the woods.

Most of the plants were new to him. He hardly recognized any of them. Some were sweet and juicy, and others were so bitter that one taste was enough. No one could help him in the selection of his food, and he had to trust to his instinct.

But instinct isn't always a safe guide when one is not familiar with his surroundings. Now just what plant it was that disagreed with him Bumper never knew. His little stomach was so full of leaves and plants that when he first began to feel sick and giddy he thought it was due to overeating.

"I'll just lie down in the shade now and rest," he said. "Then when I feel better I'll hop around and find a place to spend the night."

This was a wise decision, but it wasn't a cure. Something he had eaten clearly disagreed with him. Instead of growing better he felt worse the longer he rested. In time he was feeling so sick and giddy that if Mr. Fox had appeared he would have made short work of Bumper. His groans soon attracted the birds, and they flew to where he was lying and asked him the trouble.

"I'm dying, I think," moaned Bumper. "I must have eaten some poisonous plant, and I know I'm dying."

The birds were startled by this information, and they held an immediate consultation.

"It's perhaps true what he says," remarked Mrs. Phoebe Bird. "He's eaten some poisonous plant."