Chapter II: Part 2

And now I suppose you are still wondering where little Jack Rabbit was, but I had to get rid of that dreadful wolf first before I could tell you. Well, as soon as Mr. Wicked Wolf was out of the stump, which was very dark inside, you know, somebody turned on an electric light way down at the bottom. And who do you suppose it was? Why, Mr. Miner Mole. It was he who had been talking to Mr. Wicked Wolf all the time, and now on the next page you shall hear about Little Jack Rabbit.

PRECIOUS STONES

Well, as soon as Mr. Miner Mole turned on the electric light in his cap, he said:

“Little Jack Rabbit, you can come out now, for Mr. Wicked Wolf has gone.”

At once the little bunny hopped out of a door, and now you know where he had been hiding. I declare, it has taken me almost three stories to tell you, but I’ve been busy explaining what Mr. Wolf did and after that what Mr. Miner Mole said.

“I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t taken care of me,” said Little Jack Rabbit.

“Oh, don’t mention it,” said the kind mole. “I’m glad you came down into my mine. I’ve had luck lately. I’ll give you a couple of diamonds and three rubies. You can make your kind Uncle John Hare a present of one or three, if you wish.”

And then that generous mole gave these beautiful precious stones to the little bunny, and showed him how to climb the ladder.

“I wish I had a little cap like yours with an electric candle in it,” said the rabbit. “I’d wear it at night and have lots of fun.” But the mole wouldn’t give him his lamp. I guess he thought more of it than he did of his diamonds and rubies.

Well, pretty soon, the little bunny said good-by and climbed up the ladder, and when he got to the top he just peeped over the rim of the old hollow stump, for he thought perhaps Mr. Wicked Wolf might be hanging around, but he wasn’t, so he hopped away, clipperty-clipperty, and by and by he thought of something.

“Gracious me! I almost forgot that I had two diamonds and three rubies.” So he opened his knapsack to make sure. And now I suppose you are saying to yourself, “That poor dear little rabbit has gone and lost his precious stones!” But he hadn’t. There they were as safe as safe could be in his knapsack, right alongside of a piece of apple pie and a lollypop!

“I might as well eat my lunch now,” he thought, so he sat down, and pretty soon the apple pie was gone and the lollypop, too. And then, all of a sudden, a little bird began to sing. It was Charlie Chickadee but the little rabbit didn’t know it at first:

“A nice little rabbit went down in a hole
To see an old miner whose name was Mole,
Who wore a cap with a ’lectric light.
For his mine was dark as a closet at night.
Now why did that rabbit go down in that hole
To see the old miner, Mr. Mole?”

And then Charlie Chickadee flew down to the ground and picked up some apple pie crumbs which the little rabbit had dropped when he bit off the next to the last piece of crust.

“I’ll give you three guesses,” said the little bunny. And in the next story you shall hear whether Charlie Chickadee guessed right the first or the third time.

THREE GUESSES

Now, let me see. Oh, yes, I remember now where we left off. It was just when Little Jack Rabbit gave Charlie Chickadee three guesses. Yes, sir, that’s where we left off. The little chickadee had only three guesses to find out why Little Jack Rabbit had gone down the Hollow Tree Stump Mine to see the old miner, Mr. Mole.

“Are you ready?” asked the little bunny.

“Yes,” answered the little chickadee, “you went to get some gold!”

“No, I didn’t,” answered the little rabbit.

“Then you went to get some silver.”

“No, I didn’t,” replied the little bunny.

“Oh, dear me,” said Charlie Chickadee. “I’ve only one guess left, and I’m sure Mr. Mole hasn’t got a coal mine,” and then the little bird cocked his head on one side and looked out of the corner of his left eye to see if he had guessed it a little bit. But Little Jack Rabbit didn’t pay any attention--he just took out the two big diamonds and the three immense big rubies and looked at them carefully. At once Charlie Chickadee hopped up and down, and fluttered his wings, and shouted, “I know, I know! Ha, ha ha, ha! you went to get diamonds and rubies!”

“No, I didn’t,” said Little Jack Rabbit, and he strapped up his knapsack and started off for Uncle John Hare’s house, for he wanted to give his kind Uncle a ruby, you know, and maybe a diamond.

“Goodness me, why did you go, then?” asked Charlie Chickadee. “Everybody around here knows how dangerous that Hollow Tree Stump Mine is.”

“Because Mr. Wicked Wolf was so close to me I had nowhere to go,” answered Little Jack Rabbit, and then he told the little bird all that had happened. “And now I’m off to see Uncle John Hare.” And the little bunny shouldered his knapsack.

Well, after a while he came to Carrot Square in Turnip City, U. S. A., so he went along for maybe three hundred and ninety-five and a half hops till he came to Cabbage Avenue, where on the corner stood a little white house.

“Oh, here I am, how glad I am,” sang the little rabbit, and just then Uncle John himself opened the front door, and when he saw his little nephew he began to sing:

“Hello, hello, how glad I am,
I’m as happy as a clam
At hightide to see you now,
So come in and tell me how
All the folks are getting on
And if you love your Uncle John.”

“Wait till I show you what I’ve got for you.” And then the little bunny opened his knapsack.

“Well, I guess you love your old Uncle,” said Mr. John Hare, as he looked at the precious stones. “To-day’s my birthday. How did you remember?”

For answer the little bunny just hugged his nice old uncle.

POOR LADY LOVE

Parson Crow sat on his tree,
Early one spring morning;
And his voice was hoarse as he said, “Caw, caw.”
And he was sleepily yawning.

And just as Lady Love passed by that wise old crow opened his little Wisdom Book and began to read:

“A mossy stone will never roll,
But always stays in the same old hole.”

Then he closed his little Wisdom Book and stroked his beak with his black wings.

“Well, my boy’s back from the army,” said Lady Love proudly, and she took out of her pocket a little flag and waved it up and down. And then she took out of another pocket a little silver Liberty Bell and rang it three times, and then she hopped away to the postoffice, for she wanted to send a letter to Aunt Columbia about her little son’s discharge.

Well, when she reached the postoffice, the postmistress, the old maid grasshopper I told you about some million stories ago, who had gone to Palm Beach for the winter, looked out of her little stamp window and said,

“Good morning, Lady Love. What can I do for you? Now here’s a stamp already damp, and it’s red, white and blue.”

“What a pretty little stamp,” said Lady Love, as she put it on the envelope before dropping her letter in the little crack in the wall.

And then she went down to the Three-in-one-cent Store to buy a tea kettle. But just as she started away for the Old Bramble Patch, Mr. Wicked Wolf jumped out from behind a tree. And, oh, dear me! If Lady Love hadn’t opened her green silk parasol, and held it in front of her, that wicked old wolf would have eaten the carrot flowers right off that little lady rabbit’s bonnet.

“Fold up your parasol,” said Mr. Wicked Wolf, “or I’ll tear it into fourteen different pieces.” And, of course, this frightened Lady Love nearly to death, for she was very fond of her green silk parasol, let me tell you.

“If you do,” said she, “I’ll tell the Bunnyville Regiment and they’ll hang you.” And when Mr. Wicked Wolf heard that, he ran away as fast as he could.

“Dearie me,” said poor frightened Lady Love, “times are dreadful.” And she hurried home as fast as she could hop to put the new tea kettle on to boil for supper.

And if the tea caddy doesn’t put golf balls in the new tea pot when Lady Love isn’t looking, I’ll tell you in the next story about Timmy Meadowmouse.

MR. MERRY SUN

Little Timmy Meadowmouse,
Has a round ball for a house.
It’s made of nicely woven grass,
But it hasn’t a window pane of glass.

“Hello,” he said, as Little Jack Rabbit stopped to look at a daisy. “How are you this lovely day?”

“I’m going down to the Old Duck Pond to ask Granddaddy Bullfrog something,” answered the little rabbit.

“What are you going to ask him?” inquired Timmy Meadowmouse.

“Never mind,” replied Little Jack Rabbit, “maybe I’ll tell you some day,” and away he hopped, and by and by, pretty soon, not so very long, he came to the Old Duck Pond. And there, sure enough, was Granddaddy Bullfrog sitting on his log, winking and blinking in the sun.

“Good-morning, Granddaddy Bullfrog,” said Little Jack Rabbit, “have you had your breakfast?”

“Had my breakfast?” almost shouted the old gentleman frog. “Why, it’s almost time for lunch. I guess you’ve forgotten to set your watch ahead.”

“Oh, dear me,” said the little rabbit, “I have.” So he pulled out his gold watch and chain, the one that dear Uncle John Hare had given him, oh, ’umpty ’leven stories ago, you remember, and then he set it on an hour fast, and after that he looked up at the sky and laughed.

“Now don’t get mad, Mr. Merry Sun!”

“Well, I won’t get mad,” said the jolly old fellow, “but I’ll tell you one thing, I shan’t get up any earlier myself. You people can do what you wish, but I’ve been on time since the world began and I don’t propose to be hurried at my age.” And then he rolled behind a cloud just to show that he meant what he said.

“Do you think he’s angry?” asked the little rabbit.

“Not a bit,” answered Granddaddy Bullfrog. “What does he care if the factory whistle blows an hour earlier. He doesn’t have to hurry. He gets up in the purple east every day at the same time.”

“No, he doesn’t,” said a voice, and there stood Professor Jim Crow with his little Wisdom Book.

“Let me read you something,” and then the wise old bird turned to page 23 and began:

“The sun in the winter time rises late,
Sometimes it’s sixty minutes to eight;
But when the summer time comes once more,
He often gets up at half-past four.”

And, oh, dear me! This made Granddaddy dreadfully angry.

“You don’t understand what I mean,” he said, and in the next story you shall hear what the old gentleman frog really meant to say.

BOBBIE REDVEST

Now, let me see where we left off in the last story. Oh, yes; now I remember. Professor Jim Crow had just corrected Granddaddy Bullfrog, who was dreadful angry to think that he had made a mistake in saying the sun got up every morning at the same time. And, just as he was going to say something more, a little tadpole swam up to the log and called out:

“Granddaddy Bullfrog, please take care,
The Miller’s Boy is just over there.
He’ll throw a stone at you, I know,
If you don’t quickly dive below.”

Well, sir, Granddaddy Bullfrog gave one look and then, kerplunk! he dived into the water. And Professor Jim Crow flew away, and so did Little Jack Rabbit--I mean hopped, for rabbits don’t fly--and pretty soon he got into a dreadful scrape. Oh, dear me! I just hate to tell you about it, but I must, for everything the little bunny does I write down, even if I don’t see him do it. And do you know how I learn so much about him? I’ll tell you. It’s because every morning Bobbie Redvest comes to my window and says:

“Wake up, wake up, you lazy man!
And listen to my song.
I saw your little rabbit friend
Play tag the whole day long.”

And then I go to the window and ask him in, and give him some cracker crumbs. And as soon as he has had his breakfast he tells me what to write about. And if he didn’t there would be many days I wouldn’t know what Little Jack Rabbit is doing, for I can’t run after him in the Shady Forest all the time.

And, now I’m going to tell you about the scrape this dear little rabbit got into. Oh, dear me again! I hope he’ll get out of it all right! I told Bobbie Redvest to be around to-morrow bright and early to let me know.

Well, just as Little Jack Rabbit hopped away from the Old Duck Pond he saw the tip of Old Man Weasel’s nose from behind a tree, and the tip of Danny Fox’s bushy tail behind a rock, and the left ear of Mr. Wicked Wolf from behind a bush. Wasn’t that too dreadful for anything? Here were these three enemies of the little rabbit just waiting to catch him.

“Oh, dear, oh, dear!” said the poor little bunny, “I’m a goner now. I know, I know it!” But he didn’t give up hope. Oh, my, no! He just said that to himself, you see. Not to anybody else. And just then he heard Bobbie Redvest sing very softly:

“Under the bush, by your left hind toe,
Is a little trap door that leads below.
Jump back three feet as quick as you can.
And you will be safe, little bunny man!”

THREE OLD RASCALS

Don’t stop to ask the reason why,
Nor say “Just a minute!”
But do the thing you’re told to do
For all that there is in it!

Well, you remember what little Bobbie Redvest told the little rabbit to do in the last story--to jump back three feet and hide under the trap door beneath the bush.

Well, sir, in less time than I can take to tell it, he was under the door and hopping down a little stairway. But he didn’t forget to bolt the door, and it’s mighty lucky he did, for the next minute Old Man Weasel, Mr. Wicked Wolf and Danny Fox ran out from behind the trees and tried to lift up the trap door.

“I’ll dig a hole all around it,” said Danny Fox, when they found they couldn’t get in. So he set to work, and so did Old Man Weasel, while Mr. Wicked Wolf sat down and took out his pipe and smoked. And whenever Danny Fox stopped to wipe the perspiration from his face Mr. Wicked Wolf would say, “Hurry up! The little rabbit will be in China before you get started!”

And whenever Old Man Weasel stopped to wipe a little piece of dirt out of his eye, Mr. Wicked Wolf would say:

“Hurry up, Old Man Weasel. Danny Fox will get in first!”

Well, by and by, after a while, Danny Fox came to the flight of stairs, and maybe a minute or two later, Old Man Weasel got his head inside the hallway, but there wasn’t room for both of them at the same time.

“Get out of here,” said Danny Fox, “I saw the little rabbit first.”

“I won’t!” shouted Old Man Weasel. “I saw him before you did!” And then they started to talk and talk, till at last Mr. Wicked Wolf put his pipe back in his pocket and said:

“You are both wrong. I saw him first.” And he took hold of Danny Fox by the tail and dragged him out, and Old Man Weasel, too.

“You two talkers stay here while I go after the little rabbit,” said Mr. Wicked Wolf, and he ran down the stairs as fast as he could. But, goodness me! it was dark. And every once in a while he’d knock his head against something, but he kept on just the same, and pretty soon he saw a little light ahead.

And then, all of a sudden, a voice said:

“What are you doing down here under ground,
You wicked old wolf from the hill,
You haven’t got brains to go in when it rains
If you wake up a man when he’s ill.”

“I don’t know who you are and I didn’t know you were ill,” answered Mr. Wicked Wolf, looking all around to see who was talking. “Who are you, anyway?”

A PRISONER

Well, before Mr. Wicked Wolf found out who was talking to him as I meant to tell you in the last story, he saw the tip of Little Jack Rabbit’s tail. So he didn’t stop to find out, but ran down the dark tunnel as fast as he could.

“Oh, dear me,” said the little rabbit to himself, “I thought Mr. Mole would keep him for a few minutes till I got away.” And then the little rabbit hopped along faster than ever, and I guess Mr. Wicked Wolf would have caught him only the tunnel was so low and so narrow that Mr. Wicked Wolf had to be very careful not to bump his head off.

Well, pretty soon, the little rabbit came to a door, and when he opened it, he found himself in the Shady Forest. And just then who should come by but the Big Brown Bear.

“Oh, help me, quick!” said Little Jack Rabbit.

“How?” asked the big bear.

“Roll that rock against this door,” begged the little rabbit. “Mr. Wicked Wolf is after me.”

Then the Big Brown Bear put his shoulder against the rock and rolled it up against the door, and then he sat down and said: “Whew! That was a job!” And I guess it was, for he was all out of breath, for the rock was as large as himself and maybe bigger.

“Let me out! Let me out!” shouted Mr. Wicked Wolf through the keyhole, for he couldn’t even open the door a tiny crack because the bear had rolled the stone up against it as tight as could be.

“You stay in there till the 4th of July,
Away from the sun and the bright blue sky;
And maybe by then you will have grown wise
Enough to wear spectacles over your eyes,”

shouted the Big Brown Bear as he and the little rabbit hopped away. Dear me! Maybe the bear didn’t hop, but I was so excited for fear Little Jack Rabbit wouldn’t get away that my typewriter picked out the wrong word.

“Gracious me!” said the little rabbit, after a while, and maybe a mile. “I guess I’ll telephone to Uncle John Hare and tell him what a narrow escape I’ve just had!” So he hopped in the Hollow Tree Telephone booth and called up “One, two, three, Ring Happy Bell, Rabbitville, U. S. A.” And pretty soon he heard Uncle John Hare say, “Hello, who is it?”

“It’s me, Little Jack Rabbit,” answered the little bunny. And then he told the dear old gentleman rabbit what had happened and Uncle John Hare got so excited that he dropped the receiver on his left hind toe--the one that had the rheumatism in it, you remember--and this made him say something which I won’t repeat.

“Come over right away,” he said, after rubbing his toe three times and a half.

THE RABBITVILLE TROLLEY

Now, I think Little Jack Rabbit would have made Uncle John Hare a call if all of a sudden he hadn’t stopped to listen to Bobbie Redvest sing:

“Professor Jim Crow in his little Wisdom Book
Tells how to catch the fishes with a pin hook.
So you, Simple Simon, with your mother’s pail,
Listen to Professor Crow if you’d catch a whale.”

Perhaps I’ve made a mistake, or Professor Jim Crow has, for this is not Mother Goose Land.

“Haven’t you made a mistake?” asked Little Jack Rabbit as the old crow started to read a lesson on fishing.

“Well, I declare,” he answered. “Maybe I’m getting old. I’ve turned to the wrong place.” And then he opened the book at page 23 and read:

“Dingle, dingle, trolley car,
The Motorman is my papa,
And while he shows the greatest care
My mother rings up every fare.”

“Ha, ha,” laughed Little Jack Rabbit. “The Rabbitville trolley cars have lady bunny conductors,” and off he hopped to take a ride, for he had five carrot cents in his knapsack.

Well, just as he reached Rabbitville a trolley car came by, so he held up his striped candy cane and the motorman put on the brakes, and then the little rabbit hopped on board and the lady bunny conductor rang the bell three times and a half and away they went to Bunnybridge, just over Clover River.

“Hello!” said a voice as the little rabbit sat down, and there in the middle of the car sat Squirrel Nutcracker. He was reading the Chestnut Times and laughing over Miss Hazel Nut’s jokes.

“Come over and sit by me,” said Old Squire Nutcracker. “Here’s something about your Uncle.” And then he started to read:

“Mr. John Hare has just repainted his house on the corner of Carrot Avenue and Cabbage Square. He says he must have his house nice and white so he can see it late at night.”

And then Squirrel Nutcracker laughed some more, and he laughed so hard that a hickory nut rolled out of his coat pocket and fell on the lady conductor’s little toe and made her dreadfully angry, for she thought Little Jack Rabbit had shot the nut out of his little popgun, you know.

And just then the trolley bell began to ring like everything. Maybe there was some one on the track.

FARMER DADDY LONGLEGS

Now, let me see where we left off in the last story. Oh, yes, I remember now. It was just as the trolley car bell rang on the way to Bunnybridge.

“What’s the matter?” asked Squirrel Nutcracker, for the car stopped so suddenly that his hat came off. And then they heard the motorman, who was a billy goat, say:

“Why don’t you get out of the way
With your cracky old wagon of hay,
Why don’t you look back
When you’re on the track,
And not keep me waiting all day.”

And who do you suppose was driving the load of hay? Why, it was Old Farmer Daddy Longlegs. He was sitting on top and saying giddap to a pair of little field mice.

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Motorman,” answered Farmer Daddy Longlegs. “Just wait a minute and I’ll get off the track.”

And then he turned the little mice to the right, and when the trolley car went by it pulled off some of the hay and it fell into the open window and covered Mrs. Duck’s new bonnet, with the yellow roses on it.

“I’ll make a wish, for every time you pass a load of hay you must make a wish, you know, and if you don’t tell anybody it will surely come true,” she said with a quack.

Well, by and by, after a while, they came to Clover River, and as the trolley car couldn’t swim it went over the bridge, and in less than five hundred short seconds it stopped in Bunnybridge, on the corner of Cookey Street and Cocoanut Avenue.

“Last stop. All out,” shouted the billy goat conductor, so all the passengers left by the front door, for there was a big sign in the car which said:

“Have your nickel ready
When you board the car,
Get off at the front door,
No matter where you are.”

But, oh, dear me. Just as Little Jack Rabbit hopped to the sidewalk a deep, growly voice said:

“What are you doing over here,
So far from the Bramble Patch?
If I were hungry I’d eat you up
As quick as I’d strike a match.”

“Oh, please don’t,” cried the little rabbit. “Please, Mr. Wicked Wolf, let me go just this once.” And unless Mr. Wicked Wolf gets dreadfully hungry all of a sudden, you shall hear what happened after that.

Mr. Wolf carries a big gunny sack
Over his shoulder and down his back.
Whenever he catches a squirrel or hare,
He drops him into his sack with care,
And then he says with a terrible grin,
“I’ll eat you up before you get thin!”

ACORN COTTAGE

Mr. Wicked Wolf has a dreadful grin;
His teeth are bright and shiny like a piece of tin;
And wouldn’t you be frightened if he should say to you;
“I’ll eat you up before you count one billion twenty-two”?

Well, that’s what Mr. Wicked Wolf said just as I finished the story before this, and I would have added a P. S. and told you, only I was afraid you’d stay awake all night wondering how the little rabbit would ever get away. But never mind. I won’t let that dreadful wolf hurt him, not if I have to get a gun and go after him myself.

Well, the little rabbit began to count just as fast as he could, and just as he reached nine thousand nine hundred and maybe a little more the Yellow Dog Tramp came by and gave a loud bark:

“Don’t hurt my bunny friend;
Get out of here, I say.
It’s safer far for you to be
A million miles away.”

And when Mr. Wicked Wolf heard that he turned around and ran home as fast as he could, and maybe faster.

“Come with me, little rabbit,” said the kind Yellow Dog Tramp. So they went into the wood and turned down a little path until they came to a tiny house under a big oak tree. And right over the front door was a sign:

“Acorn Cottage.”

“Who lives there?” asked Little Jack Rabbit.

“Wait and see,” said the Yellow Dog Tramp, and then he knocked three times and pretty soon a little Green Snake opened the door. She had on a little pink bonnet and a white apron and on the end of her tail was a pretty gold watch.

“What do you want?” she asked, for she was a very timid little snake, let me tell you, and was dreadfully afraid of tramps and burglars.

“My little rabbit friend would like to find his fortune,” said the Yellow Dog Tramp, “and I hear you are very wise and know how to tell fortunes better than a gypsy. So please tell my little bunny friend where his fortune is.”

“Come in,” said the little Green Snake. So Little Jack Rabbit and the Yellow Dog Tramp went into the little house, and pretty soon she told Little Jack Rabbit to sit down.

“You have two Liberty Bonds and three War Saving Stamps,” she said, after she had looked at the lines in his little paw, “and in three days and a half you will find a bright penny under a stone on the Shady Forest Trail. That will be the beginning of your fortune.” And then she coiled herself up and began to sway back and forth, and in the next story you shall hear what happened after that.

JENNY WREN’S PENNY

You remember in the last story as the little Green Snake coiled herself in a ring and swayed back and forth, she began to sing:

“Under a stone on the Forest Trail
Close to the home of a little black snail,
Is a bright new penny, so stop to-day
And pick it up on your homeward way.”

“I will,” said Little Jack Rabbit, and then he and Yellow Dog Tramp set out, and by and by they saw a little stone just ahead of them. And close beside it was a black snail in her little house which she always carries around with her, rain or shine.

“Hurrah,” cried the little rabbit, “now I will find my fortune,” and he pushed aside the stone and was just going to pick up the bright penny when a voice said:

“Don’t you touch that penny,
For it belongs to Jenny,
To pretty little Jenny Wren
Who lives down in the shady glen.”

“Oh, dear me,” sighed Little Jack Rabbit, “I thought I could take it.”

“Who are you?” asked the Yellow Dog Tramp, looking all around to see who had spoken, but there was no one in sight. And just then, all of a sudden, out jumped Chippy Chipmunk in his little striped jacket. “That penny belongs to Jenny Wren. She lost it this morning.”

“Then why don’t you take it to her?” said the Yellow Dog Tramp.

“I’m keeping watch till she comes back,” answered Chippy Chipmunk. “I don’t know where she went.” And then the little chipmunk laughed and picked up a nut and stuffed it into the little pocket in his left cheek.

“Well, there’s no use waiting here,” said Little Jack Rabbit. “I must get back to the Old Bramble Patch before sundown or mother will worry.” And off he started, lipperty lip, clipperty clip, but just then who should come by but little Jenny Wren herself. She wasn’t flying. Oh, my, no. She was walking slowly over the ground and looked here and there and everywhere.

“Did you see a bright penny?” she asked.

“It’s by that stone,” said Little Jack Rabbit. “Close by the snail in her little shell house.”

So Jenny Wren hopped over to the stone and picked up her lost penny, and if she doesn’t spend it for a lemon lollypop I’ll tell you what happened after that.

A lollypop’s a lovely thing,
Just like a flower in the spring.
It grows upon the Lolly Tree
Beside the winding river Dee.

HUNGRY HAWK

“I must leave now,” said the Yellow Dog Tramp, who, you remember in the last story, had found the lost penny for little Jenny Wren.

“Come and see me soon again,
If it doesn’t chance to rain,”

said Little Jack Rabbit, as he watched his good friend run away.

Well, after that, the little bunny hopped along, and by and by he saw Timmy Meadowmouse near his little house in the Sunny Meadow. And if you’ve forgotten what Timmy Meadowmouse’s house looks like I’ll tell you. It’s like a little ball, made out of grass, woven together on the top of two or three stiff stalks of meadow grass.

“Hello, Timmy Meadowmouse. What are you doing?”

“Keeping a lookout for Hungry Hawk,” he answered. “It was only a few minutes ago he flew by, way up in the sky. Oh, ever so high. But I don’t want to be caught in his cruel claws,” and the little meadowmouse shivered at the thought.

“Neither do I,” said Little Jack Rabbit. “I won’t wait, but hurry home to the Old Bramble Patch.” And it was a good thing he did, for just then Hungry Hawk came sailing by and if he had seen the little rabbit maybe he would have stooped down and caught him then and there and maybe some other place.

“What has kept you so late?” asked Lady Love as her little bunny son hopped up the garden walk to the kitchen door, where the good lady bunny stood shading her eyes with her left hind paw. She said nothing when she learned how he had almost been caught by Mr. Wicked Wolf and that the Yellow Dog Tramp had come by just in time. But when he said he had found a penny, she exclaimed: “Where is it?”

“Oh, dear,” answered the little rabbit, “it belonged to Jenny Wren. She lost it this morning, so I had to give it to her.”

And just then the telephone rang.

“Hello,” said Little Jack Rabbit. “Is it you?”

“It surely is,” said the old gentleman rabbit. “What do you suppose is the matter?” But Little Jack Rabbit couldn’t guess, and I don’t believe you can, so I’ll tell you right away.

“My Sonora won’t stop singing,” said the old gentleman rabbit, “and the three grasshoppers and the black cricket on the hearth can’t sleep. So what shall I do?”

“Call in the Old Red Rooster. He used to work in a talking machine factory before he came to you.”

And that’s just what Uncle John Hare did, and the next day he came over in his Bunnymobile and took Little Jack Rabbit out for a long drive.

CANDY CATS AND CHOCOLATE MICE

After the Old Red Rooster had repaired the Sonora, he went back to the barn to dust off the cobwebs. But, oh, dear me! All of a sudden, he brushed down a little black spider who had her web in the northeast corner.

“You’re a very mean rooster to pull down my web,
For now I must spin me another,
If things must be clean you’ve no right to be mean,
I’ve a notion to tell your good mother.”

“Please don’t,” begged the Old Red Rooster. “She’s a very old hen and it might worry her so she couldn’t lay an egg.”

Just then Little Jack Rabbit and Uncle John Hare drove up in the Bunnymobile, so the little black spider began to spin a new web and the Old Red Rooster commenced to dust off the top of the buggy.

“Well, here we are, home again,” said the old gentleman rabbit, and he took off his old wedding stovepipe hat and wiped his forehead with his blue silk polkadot handkerchief, and after that he looked at his gold watch and chain and fixed the diamond horseshoe pin in his red necktie. You see, there was a little old broken mirror which he kept in the barn so that in case his stovepipe hat wasn’t on straight he could fix it before going out automobiling.

As soon as the Bunnymobile was safe in the garage he and Little Jack Rabbit went into the house and wound up the graphophone. And this is the song it sang:

“The candy cat ate a chocolate mouse,
O dearie, dearie me.
And the little toy dog chased the little toy cat,
Till she climbed up a cinnamon tree.”

Dear, dear me! Here we are at the end of the book. I wonder why the pages turn over so quickly; perhaps it is because Little Jack Rabbit hops so fast. But never mind, dear little reader, I am going to tell you some more about this little bunny boy in another book entitled “Little Jack Rabbit and Hungry Hawk.”

Yours for a story,
DAVID CORY,
The Jack Rabbit Man.

The three Little grasshoppers
bowed to Uncle Lucky.

Cocky Doodles and
Henny Jenny take a walk.

“Hold up Yours,” said the
Policeman Dog.

Mr. Wicked Wolf had to
shut his eyes.

“I saw Little Jack Rabbit last
night, my dear,” said the Fox.

This made Mrs. Cow laugh.

“Goodness me! Where has
that little bunny gone?”
he said.

The little rabbit said
goodbye.

Transcriber’s Notes:

Italics are shown thus: _sloping_.

Small capitals have been capitalised.

Variations in spelling and hyphenation are retained.

Perceived typographical errors have been changed.