Chapter IV: Part 4

Dear children, never, never sling A stone at any living thing. The little bird that swiftly flies Up in the country of the skies, The friendly tabby cat that purrs And humps that glossy back of hers, The patient horse that draws the plough, The ever-generous mooley cow, Are all kind friends to you and me, Created by God’s charity.

BUNNY TALE 14

UNCLE LUCKY’S DREAM

Oh, what shall I sing this lovely spring
When all the sky’s aglow
With the sun’s gold tint and the pure white glint
Of clouds like drifts of snow.

“Well, well, well,” exclaimed dear Uncle Lucky with a sigh, laying down his book, “that is a beautiful poem.” Pushing his spectacles back on his forehead, he was just about to sigh again when the telephone rang, One, two, three! Jingle, jingle, jingle!

“Who’s that, I wonder?” he asked himself, taking up the receiver.

“Hello, hello! Who’s calling me?

“This is Rabbitville, one, two, three.”

“Mr. Grizzly Bear is talking,” answered a deep, growly voice.

“Well, I don’t care if he stops,” replied brave Uncle Lucky, “I don’t want to speak to him.”

“But he wants to talk to you!” answered the deep, growly voice.

“Dear Little Miss Mousie,” sighed Uncle Lucky, “why do disagreeable people call me on the ’phone? Why don’t they call up the Policeman Dog? Please lock the kitchen door.” And the poor old gentleman rabbit gave a great big sigh and, hanging up the receiver, hopped quickly around the house to lock every window, pulling down the shades and then stuffing up the fireplace with sofa cushions.

“Now I guess nobody’ll get in,” he said, seating himself by the pianola. All of a sudden it began to play;

“Oh, the Grizzly Bear is a dreadful beast,
His claws are sharp and long,
And he gives a tug and then a hug
While he sings a grizzly song;

“‘Oh, I’m the beast with the terrible hug,
G-r-r-r, g-r-r-r-r, G-R-R-R-R!
I can break a stone and crack a bone
And crumple a cracker jar!’”

“Goodness me!” shouted Uncle Lucky, hopping up. “It’s bad enough to have a Grizzly Bear call you on the ’phone, but to listen to a Grizzly Bear song on the pianola is too, too much,” and the dis-tract-ed old gentleman rabbit hopped upstairs to his bedroom and looked out of the window.

“Tooty fruiti!” shouted Old Barney Owl, just like that, so frightening poor Uncle Lucky that he closed the window with a bang and hopped into bed. But, dear me! again. No sooner had he pulled the coverlet up to his chin and tucked his long gray whiskers in, than a dreadful knocking shook the door and rattled the carpet tacks in the floor!

“Goodness gracious meebus!” whispered the old gentleman rabbit under his breath and under the crazyquilt over his head as he cuddled down tight in his old wooden bed.

Again some one knocked on the door so hard that the doorknob came off and fell in the yard.

“Who can that be? What shall I do? I’m afraid to open the door and I’m afraid not to. Which is the worst to do, for whatever I do, it will be that, all right, and all wrong!”

“Make believe there’s no one home,
Stay in bed and do not roam
On your tiptoe ’round the house;
Keep as quiet as a mouse,”

whispered a little voice.

“Who gives me such good advice?” asked the old gentleman rabbit in a trembly whisper.

“Little Miss Mousie,” replied the tiny voice. “I crept out of my house and up the stairs to tell you to make believe you’re not at home.”

“You’re a good little friend,” answered Uncle Lucky.

“You’re a good big friend,” laughed Little Miss Mousie, only very low, of course. “You let me stay all winter in the woodbox by the warm stove. You never charge me any rent and never let me spend a cent, you give me lollypops to eat and satin slippers for my feet.”

“Do I really? I forgot all about the slippers, I declare,” cried the old gentleman rabbit, scratching his left hind ear with his right hind foot. “Maybe I’m growing old and full of forgetfulness,” and he sighed twice, and maybe three times more.

Just then the knocking came again, and this time louder than the last time, and twice as loud as the first.

“Keep your temper,” whispered the little mouse.

“I guess that’s the only thing I’ve got left,” cried poor Uncle Lucky. “I’ve lost my wits—I declare, I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t do anything,” advised the little mouse, “that’s what you agreed to do just a minute ago.”

But goodness me! as she finished speaking there arose a dreadful commotion in the backyard of Uncle Lucky’s little white house. Dear me, it was tornadeous and hurricaneous.

Please excuse me a moment. There’s so much noise I can’t even think what might happen if the Policeman Dog doesn’t arrive pretty soon and swing his club three or four times.

There it goes! Yes, sir, I thought I’d hear it soon, if not before. Yes, it’s the Policeman Dog’s whistle.

Out of his nice warm bed jumped Uncle Lucky and over to the window. The moonlight shone in like an automobile lamp, almost blinding Little Miss Mousie by the door. For a moment it made the dear old gentleman rabbit wink his eyes and blink his nose.

“Goodness gracious meebus! What is that big black shadow under the trees?” he whispered.

Then all of a sudden, the whistle sounded again, only this time way off down the road.

“What is the matter?” asked the old gentleman rabbit, his legs trembling so that his pajamas wrinkled at the knees. “What is the matter, and what is that dark shadow under the trees, and why is the Policeman Dog whistling down the road? Why doesn’t he whistle under my window and make me feel comfortable?”

But no one answered him. Not even Little Miss Mousie, for she had hopped down to the kitchen to peek out under the door. Pretty soon the sound of the whistle came again, this time a little bit louder. After another minute or two, it sounded again, only fainter.

“Dear, dear me, I’m so sorry for myself,” cried the poor old gentleman rabbit. “All this mystery is turning my hair white. What shall I do?”

“I’ve caught him! I’ve caught him!” all of a sudden a voice shouted, and the next minute into the yard ran the Policeman Dog with Danny Fox by the collar.

“Here’s the robber who knocked on your front door,” cried the noble police dog.

“Put him in jail for a century!” shouted Uncle Lucky from his bedroom window. “I want my great, great, great, great grandchildren never to be annoyed by this old robber!”

“I’ll speak to the Judge about it,” answered the faithful Policeman Dog, as he drove away with Danny Fox in the patrol wagon.

“Oh, I’m so relieved,” sighed the old gentleman rabbit, “I’ll now go back to bed and sleep till the little green rooster toots his horn at half past three to-morrow morn,” and, hopping into his pink pajamas, he pulled the crazy quilt up to his chin and tucked his whiskers snugly in.

Well, sir, and well, m’am. No sooner was the old gentleman rabbit sound asleep than the Dream Fairy looked in at the window.

“I must give Uncle Lucky a pretty dream,” and softly flying in, she lighted on the foot of the bed. Taking from her little Vanity Bag a blue rose she waved it to and fro, back and forth and up and down, till Uncle Lucky began to dream.

And what a lovely dream! Just wait till I tell it to you, dear boys and girls, for maybe when he wakes up he’ll forget all about it, as some people do, even as you and I.

The dear old gentleman rabbit dreamed that he was a boy again, playing marbles with Uncle John Hare when, dearest me and dearest you! along came Mrs. Wild Cat.

“Meow, meow, meow!” she said. “Let me play with you.”

Uncle John Hare looked at Uncle Lucky, and then they both looked at the Wild Cat. But what was the use of looking at her, or at each other, or at anything, for that matter. Goodness me! they were so frightened that their knees played tick tock, tick tock, and their hair stood up straight, and if ever there were two scared little rabbits, it was Uncle John and Uncle Lucky.

“What’s the matter with you two bunnies?” asked Mrs. Wild Cat. “Come, give me a shooter.”

“Here, here’s—one!” gasped Uncle John.

“You—can—have—mine,” faltered Uncle Lucky, “I’m tired. My thumb’s sore.”

“Stuff and nonsense,” meowed Mrs. Wild Cat. “Come on and play!”

But, oh, dear me! The two poor little bunnies missed every time and as Mrs. Wild Cat won every time, pretty soon she had all the marbles, as well as Uncle Lucky’s little bag and Uncle John’s little box.

“What else have you?” asked the purring Wild Cat.

“Nothing,” answered the bunny boy rabbits, “nothing, only a piece of chocolate cake and a lollypop.”

“Give them to me,” said the purring Wild Cat!

So what could each little bunny boy do but put his hand in his pocket and slowly draw out, Uncle John, the cake, and Uncle Lucky, the lollypop.

“Ha, ha, meow!” cried Mrs. Wild Cat, “don’t they look good. I love chocolate cake and lollypops, ice cream cones and pink gumdrops.”

“Please don’t take everything we have,” cried Uncle Lucky, tearfully.

“Give us back our marbles,” begged Uncle John Hare, with a sob.

“No, I want to take them home to my little kittens,” answered Mrs. Wild Cat, reaching out her paw for the lollypop.

“Wait just a minute, the stick has come out,” begged Uncle Lucky, leaning over to pick up the candy part. All of a sudden, just like that, he struck out with his strong hind feet, throwing the loose dirt into Mrs. Wild Cat’s eyes, and before she could open them the little rabbits had hopped into a hollow stump.

“Meow, meow! Just wait till I wipe my eyes. I’ll show you what I’ll do,” Mrs. Wild Cat screamed.

But, wasn’t it lucky? by that time the two little bunnies had found a tunnel leading away from the hollow stump. On and on they hopped until by and by, after a while, they found themselves out on the Sunny Meadow.

“Whew, I’m glad to be rid of that dreadful cat,” exclaimed Uncle Lucky.

“So am I,” said Uncle John Hare. “But, dear me! we’ve lost our marbles!”

Just then who should come along but Sic’em, the farmer’s dog. Of course in those days, when Uncle Lucky was a little boy and Uncle John Hare only a week older, Sic’em was a young dog. Oh, my, yes! And could run so fast that often his shadow was left a mile behind him!

“Bow, wow, now I’ll catch you two little rabbits,” he barked, when—wasn’t it a relief? the old gentleman rabbit woke up with a start to find that he had been dreaming. But he didn’t see the Dream Fairy as she flew out of the window. No, siree! Dear Uncle Lucky was hardly wide awake enough for that!

BUNNY TALE 15

THE RADIO STORY

“Well, well, well!” said Uncle Lucky, rubbing his eyes, “that was a queer dream. The idea of my dreaming I was a boy again, playing marbles with Uncle John Hare,” and, with a laugh, the old gentleman bunny jumped out of bed to look out of the window. It was early morning and the sky was pink and purple, yellow and red. The dew was sparkling on the grass and the trees were whispering to one another.

All of a sudden “Cock-a-doodle-do!” went the Old Red Rooster over by the barn. And then a robin began to sing and a little squirrel to scamper over the grass.

“Heigh ho!” exclaimed dear Uncle Lucky, “what a beautiful world. I must hurry down to my breakfast and then go for Little Jack Rabbit. He should be vaccinated. Maybe I’d better call up Dr. Quack, the famous duck doctor, to find out when he can see us.”

“Hello, Central, hurry, please,
Something’s going to make me sneeze.
Who has filled with pepper up
The little rubber talking cup?”

Ker-choo! ker-choo! went the dear old gentleman rabbit, and before he could get out his lovely blue silk polkadot handkerchief somebody laughed outside the window.

“Who’s laughing at me?” asked the ex-as-per-a-ted—which means, dear littlest reader, teased nearly to death—old gentleman bunny, “and who put pepper in my telephone, I want to know?”

“Ha, ha! ha! ha!” laughed the voice again, just outside the sitting room window.

With a hop, skip and a jump across the nice rag carpet hopped the dear old bunny to peek through the curtain. There on the porch rail sat Jimmy Jay, the mischievous bird boy.

“Ha, ha! ha, ha!” he went again, throwing his head first to one side and then to the other, “Ha, ha! ha, ha!”

“Get off my porch,” shouted dear Uncle Lucky, “you bad, mischievous, sneak of a bird boy. Why don’t you play nice games instead of mean jokes? Get off my porch or I’ll do something to you,” and Uncle Lucky hopped back across the hall and opened the front door with a swing.

Away flew naughty Jimmy Jay like a flash of blue through the leaves.

“Ha, ha! ha, ha!” he laughed, “how peppery we are!”

“Good gracious meebus!” exclaimed the old gentleman bunny, “that bird boy is a bad one. If he doesn’t mend his ways I shall report him to the Policeman Dog. What right has he to come into my house and play such a trick on me?”

Dear Uncle Lucky was so provoked with Jimmy Jay that he almost forgot to call up Dr. Quack. But as soon as the mischievous bluebird was out of sight the kind old gentleman suddenly remembered and, hopping over to the telephone, shouted:

“One, two, three, S. O. S.
Who is calling? Can’t you guess?”

“No, who is it?” answered a voice.

“Mr. Lucky Lefthindfoot. My nephew, Little Jack Rabbit, should be vaccinated. Can you come over to the Old Bramble Patch at once?”

“In about fifteen minutes,” replied the famous duck doctor.

Hanging up the receiver, Uncle Lucky hopped out to the garage and, cranking the Luckymobile, started off for the Sunny Meadow.

By and by, after a while, but not quite a mile, he came to the dear Old Bramble Patch, in the center of which safe and secure stood the little bungalow in which Little Jack Rabbit lived with Lady Love, his bunny mother.

“Honk, honk!” went the Luckymobile horn, and the next minute out hopped Little Jack Rabbit.

“Has Dr. Quack been here?” asked the old gentleman bunny, taking out his gold watch and chain.

“He just left,” answered his bunny nephew. “He vaccinated me. Mother gave me a carrot cent afterwards to buy a lollypop with ’cause I didn’t make a fuss.”

“You’re a good bunny boy,” said Uncle Lucky, patting the little rabbit’s ears. “Let’s hop in to see mother.”

Side by side the little rabbit boy and the dear old gentleman bunny hopped along the path through the thick brambles until they reached the little bungalow. On the back porch sat Lady Love, the little rabbit’s mother, shelling peas.

“Well, well, well!” exclaimed Uncle Lucky, “how busy we are! And how pretty we look in the blue apron and string of red beads!” Sitting down on the step, the old gentleman bunny filled his old corncob pipe with cabbage leaf tobacco and smoked away to his heart’s content.

By and by the little rabbit grew restless. “Let’s listen in on the radio,” he suggested, tickling dear Uncle Lucky’s ear.

“Come along,” answered the obliging old gentleman rabbit, hopping into the sitting room.

Professor Crow was just announcing to his radio audience that “This is Station ABC, Old Crow County, Tall Pine Tree. The first number on our program is David Cory, the Jack Rabbit Man, who will tell his famous Little Jack Rabbit stories to the furry and feather-coated people of the Shady Forest and Sunny Meadow. Tune in and let us know how the story is going over. Step into the Hollow Stump Telephone Booth and call us up: ‘One, three, five, Sakes Alive; Pine Tree Top, Lollypop! Here is Uncle Dave.’”

“Hello! boys and girls. Guess where I am. Maybe I’d better tell you before you grow tired thinking of a million different places. I’m up in Professor Crow’s tall Pine Tree House. He has asked me to broadcast a Little Jack Rabbit story. Isn’t that a compliment? Well, I just guess yes three times and a half. But, dear me! It’s some job to climb a tall pine house. I’m not as young as I used to be, but now that I’m up at the top and have brushed off my trousers and straightened my tie I’ll tell you something nice and true, for it’s pretty up here under the blue and sunny sky with Merry Sun winking his big gold eye.

“Goodness me! dear boys and girls, there goes the telephone bell and Squirrel Nutcracker’s voice is shouting over the wire: ‘Ask Mr. Cory to put me in the story.’

“‘All right,’ promised Professor Crow, but before I could broadcast a word the bell rang again.

“‘Busy Beaver talking,’ came over the wire. ‘Ask David Cory to say something about me.’

“‘All righto,’ answered the old crow, hanging up. But jingle, jingle, tinkle, tink went the bell before I could wink.

“‘This is the Big Brown Bear talking. Ask David Cory to put me in the story,’ I heard him say, and then Professor Crow answered, ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

“‘Hurry up and commence,’ said the worried old black bird, turning to me. Again tinkerly tink, jingerly jell went that dreadful telephone bell, and Granddaddy Bullfrog begged to have me mention him over the wire.

“‘All righto, Mr. Bullfrog,’ answered Professor Crow, but even before he had hung up the receiver, Chippy Chipmunk was requesting that I say ‘Hello’ to him.

“‘Goodness me!’ said Professor Crow, ‘if they keep this up there’ll be no story at all.’

“‘Never mind,’ I answered, ‘I’ll just say hello to everybody. Next Thursday will be time enough for a story.’”

All of a sudden the little rabbit shouted, “He just said hello to me!” and the next minute, “He just said hello to you!”

“Did he?” asked dear Uncle Lucky. “Well, that is kind of him,” and as the radio talk was now over the two bunnies hopped into the kitchen.

“What have you for supper?” asked dear Uncle Lucky.

“Stewed lollypops!” answered busy Lady Love, placing a steaming dish upon the table. “Nice fresh lollypops. The Big Brown Bear was here yesterday.”

“Did he ask for me?” asked Little Jack Rabbit.

“To be sure,” replied Lady Love, “I told him that Uncle Lucky was coming to-day.”

“Yes, I’ll stay here for a while,” laughed the old gentleman bunny, picking up a big juicy yellow lollypop by the stick, just the way people eat asparagus. But, oh, dear me! down ran the juice all over his nice clean napkin. Wasn’t that a shame?

“Goodness gracious meebus!” exclaimed Uncle Lucky, “that was a very ripe lollypop!”

Just then his small rabbit nephew brought his spoon down on the table with a whack.

“What’s that?” shouted the old gentleman bunny, dropping the lollypop stick on his little left hind toe, the one with the rheumatiz, you know.

“A mosquito tried to sting my ear!” cried the little bunny boy, carefully lifting the spoon to peep underneath, “Where did he go?”

“If you would catch a skeeter
You must be lightning quick.
My name is Skeeter Peter
And I’m on to every trick,”

sang a squeaky, buzzy voice.

“Did you hear that?” asked Lady Love.

“No, but maybe I’m getting a little deaf,” sighed dear Uncle Lucky, tucking a clean napkin under his chin and picking out a fresh lollypop.

“There goes Skeeter Peter out of the window,” shouted his small nephew bunny.

“Catch him!” cried the old gentleman rabbit, hopping over to the open window. But, oh, dear me! The Old Red Rooster, who was raking up the leaves on the lawn wasn’t quick enough, and away flew Skeeter Peter to the Old Duck Pond where Mrs. Skeeter Peter was waiting at the door of their tiny house in the long grass.

“Dear me! I’m all out of breath,” sighed dear Uncle Lucky, sitting down in the rocking chair by the open window to read the _Bunnybridge Bugle_. After a while he fell asleep and dreamed he was a boy again and had sent a pretty valentine to a lovely bunny girl.

BUNNY TALE 16

DANGER

“It’s growing cold! I must turn up my coat collar,” said Little Jack Rabbit, hopping out on the Sunny Meadow. He had just finished polishing the front doorknob and maybe his little pink nose was pinker than usual. Maybe Jack Frost had pinched it when the little bunny boy wasn’t looking.

It certainly was cold out on the Sunny Meadow! Billy Breeze was romping over the frosty grass, bending the leafless bushes and trees.

Turkey Tim strutted about the Old Barnyard, spreading his big tail like a Japanese fan.

“Although the sky is clear and blue,
Oh, dear me and oh, dear you!
How cold and chilly Billy Breeze.
He makes me shiver at the knees!”

sang Cocky Doodle trying to pull down his feather knickerbockers. But he couldn’t. Neither could he pull up his feather stockings. Dear me! again. Wasn’t that too bad? Well, I should say so, although I’ve seen lots of little boys and girls with bare legs in the winter time.

“Bow wow!” went Old Sic’em, the farmer’s dog, tugging at his chain, as Little Jack Rabbit hopped around the Big Red Barn.

“Bow, wow, wow!
It makes me laugh
To see Mrs. Cow
Spank her calf.”

“Now, that will do,” said Mrs. Cow, quite provoked, “it’s so long since you were spanked you’ve forgotten you were once a puppy boy dog.”

“Ha! ha!” laughed Little Jack Rabbit, “now will you be good, Old Sic’em?” But the old dog crept into his little wooden house with never an answer.

Just then Little Jack Rabbit spied Old Man Weasel under the woodpile.

“Oh, dear me!” said the little bunny to himself, “what shall I do?”

“Don’t be frightened,” chirped little Bobbie Redvest from the Old Rail Fence. “Old Man Weasel won’t dare show himself for here comes the Big Kind Farmer.”

Sure enough, there he stood with a milk pail on his arm. So away hopped Little Jack Rabbit to the Old Duck Pond to see Granddaddy Bullfrog, the nice old gentleman frog in his white waistcoat and gold rimmed spectacles.

“I’ll soon be going down to the warm mud at the bottom of the pond,” said the old fellow, with a shiver. “I can’t stand this snappy weather. Guess I’ll start now,” and with a dive off his log, he disappeared beneath the water.

“Good-by!” called out the little bunny boy, hopping home to the warm little bungalow in the Old Bramble Patch.

The next morning the Sunny Meadow was as white as Lady Love’s best tablecloth and just as smooth, for it had snowed all night, the snowflakes falling so softly that no one had even dreamed of what was happening.

After breakfast Little Jack Rabbit pulled on his nice warm mittens.

“Don’t forget your muffler,” warned his careful mother. Then filling his knapsack with little lettuce flour cakes, she kissed him good-by.

As he hopped along he began to sing:

“Three little bunnies a-sliding went
All on a winter’s day.
The ice was thin and two fell in,
And the third one ran away.”

“That’s a fine song,” cawed Professor Crow from his Tall Pine Tree house.

“Drop me an ice cream pine cone,” laughed the little bunny. But the selfish old bird instead threw a snowball, hitting the little rabbit on the tip of his tail.

Off he hopped, for he wasn’t going to have snowballs thrown at him. No, sireeman. And pretty soon, not so very far, he met Brownie Mink creeping along by the Old Duck Pond.

“I must be very careful these days,” he whispered. “People wear fur in the winter time and that dreadful Miller’s boy may set a trap. If it catches me I’ll be a muff instead of a little mink.”

“They set traps for me, too!” answered the little bunny. “Besides, I must look out for Danny Fox and Old Man Weasel. And sometimes, and maybe oftener, for Robber Hawk. You’re not the only one who has to look out for himself.”

All of a sudden the little rabbit felt hungry and, opening his knapsack, handed a lollypop to Brownie Mink. But what the bunny boy ate will take too long to tell.

“The next time you pass the Old Bramble Patch I’ll ask Uncle Lucky to take us sledmobiling,” he said, buckling on his knapsack.

“Hurray!” shouted the little mink, tickled almost to pieces. He’d never ridden in a sledmobile and neither have I, and neither have you, but we may some day if we happen to be around when Uncle Lucky passes by.

“The snow is nearly three feet deep
Upon the forest trail,
And windy rifts and hilly drifts
Blot out the lonely vale.

“Oh, little bunny, have a care
For Danny Fox is everywhere!
Be very careful where you go
And leave no footprints in the snow,”

sang Sammy Snowbird from a little bush in the Sunny Meadow, knowing how hungry Danny Fox was now that the ground was covered with a white carpet. Up at the Old Barn Yard the chickens huddled inside the warm hen house and old Danny Fox couldn’t find even a feather near the Big Red Barn.

“I’ll keep a bright lookout, never fear,” laughed the bunny boy, and he hopped away into the Shady Forest. By and by he met a big Snow Man. Wasn’t it strange to find a Snow Man in the Shady Forest? Well, I guess it was, and the little rabbit thought so, too. All of a sudden two little bears ran out of a cave and shouted: “We did it.”

“It’s a fine Snow Man,” answered the little bunny and, taking a lemon lollypop out of his knapsack, he pushed the stick into the Snow Man’s mouth. It seemed as if he were smoking a lollypop pipe. But not for long, let me tell you. No, sireeman and no, siree, Mister! For in a jiffy those two little bears took it away from the poor Snow Man, and ate it up, stick and all.

“Ha, ha!” laughed the little rabbit, and, being a generous little bunny, he took another out of his knapsack. “Take it home to your little sister.” But the two bears didn’t have any sister, only an old aunt who didn’t like candy.

After that the little bunny hopped away. By and by he saw a great icicle hanging from a rock in the Bubbling Brook. Now Mr. Merry Sun was doing his best to melt it, but Mr. North Wind blew so cold that all Mr. Merry Sun could do was to paint it all sorts of colors, green and red, yellow and purple. “It looks like a stick of candy,” thought the little rabbit, breaking it off.

“I’ll fool somebody with it,” and away he hopped, singing:

“Over the snow, over the snow,
Hippity, hippity, hop I go.
I don’t care if the woods are bare,
For I love the snow, the beautiful snow,
Hiding the flowers until they can grow.”

By and by he came to the Shady Forest Pond. Of course it was all frozen over with a thick coating of ice. Only the top of Mister Muskrat’s house could be seen, in the upper bedroom of which, high and dry, Mister Muskrat himself lay sound asleep.

Sliding out on the ice, the little rabbit knocked on the roof. But he never saw the frightened Muskrat swim out in the water. Oh, dear, no. The ice was too thick for that, although Mister Muskrat could hear the little rabbit sliding about overhead.

“I must wait until Springtime to find out who called,” thought Mister Muskrat, swimming over to his other hiding place among the roots of the Old Chestnut Tree in which Old Barney Owl had built his little wooden house in a big hollow limb.

And wasn’t it strange? Mister Muskrat never got the least bit wet as he swam through the water. You see his thick fur overcoat is waterproof.

“I have few friends in the wintertime,” sighed Little Jack Rabbit. “Timmie Chipmunk is fast asleep in his little warm house. So is Woody Chuck. And Granddaddy Bullfrog and Teddy Turtle are dreaming away in the soft warm mud at the bottom of the Old Duck Pond. I’ll be glad when warm weather comes.”

Just then who should pop out of his little snow tunnel, for by this time the little rabbit was on the Sunny Meadow, but Timmie Meadowmouse. He wasn’t afraid of little bunnies, you know, nor squirrels, nor chipmunks, but always kept his eyes open for Danny Fox, and Old Man Weasel, who are always skulking around, or for Hungry Hawk, who is often flying up in the sky.

“I’ve been playing hide and seek all day,” laughed Timmie Meadowmouse.

“Who with?” inquired Little Jack Rabbit anxiously, wiggling his little pink nose to catch the first scent of danger.

“Oh, with Danny Fox,” replied the little meadowmouse. “But, you see, he didn’t catch me.”

“Don’t be too sure all the time.
Some day you’ll regret it;
Danger comes so suddenly,
Watch and don’t forget it,”

sang Charlie Chickadee.

Dear me! That little bird must have known that danger was lurking near.

“Run, run, run!
Skate, skate, skate!
You’d better start this minute
Or else you’ll be too late.
Old Danny Fox will catch you
If you don’t watch out,
Hurry, hurry, hurry!
Old Danny Fox’s about!”

shouted Squirrel Nutcracker from his Tree Top House.

Away went Little Jack Rabbit, clipperty clip, lipperty lip! No, he didn’t, either. He went slipperty slip! Slipperty slip! Just like that, only faster.

“I’ll catch you yet,” growled Danny Fox.

“Not yet,” gasped the little bunny boy.

“Pretty soon,” whined the old fox.

“Never and never,” replied the bunny boy bravely. “Mother shan’t lose her little rabbit, not if I can help it!” and away he went, faster than before, and lots faster than behind. And in less time than I can take to tell it he was safely over the little picket fence around the dear Old Bramble Patch. You see, he couldn’t wait to unlatch the gate, but gave a hop-tee-idy right over it. The next minute Lady Love had pulled him in and slammed the kitchen door.

“Safe at home in mother’s arms!
That’s the place to be.
Warm and cuddley, mother’s breast,
Like a pretty downy nest,”

sang the Canary Bird. Then Little Miss Cricket chirped and the Three Grasshoppers fiddled pretty music.

BUNNY TALE 17

TROUBLE

I wish that only lovely things,
Like roses red and diamond rings
And lollypops and ice cream cones
And pretty little colored stones

Would fall down at the rabbits’ feet
And make them smile with laughter sweet,
And not a hungry long-clawed hawk,
With swishing wings and cruel squawk.

And now I’ve explained in this little poem what happened while the little rabbit family were sitting peacefully on the back porch of their little bungalow in the Old Bramble Patch.

“Goodness gracious meebus!” exclaimed Uncle Lucky, as he tried to close the kitchen door. “Hungry Hawk, will you kindly pull your bill away?”

“You can’t hurt my bill,” answered the old hawk, scratching and pushing the door.

“All right, then,” answered Uncle Lucky. “Let’s see you get away, you old robber.”

But, dear me! That old bird was very persistent!

“Get the poker!” panted Uncle Lucky, “I can’t hold out much longer.”

“Here it is,” cried the little bunny, handing the poker to the old gentleman rabbit. Then, in some way or another, I can’t explain just how, brave Uncle Lucky pressed it against the door and pulling up the kitchen table, made it fast to one of the legs.

“Ha, ha!” he laughed, “now, old robber hawk, get away if you can! Maybe you’ll wish you’d never made us a call,” and with a hop, skip and a toe-slide over the floor, the old gentleman bunny peeked out of the kitchen window.

Goodness gracious, how ruffled and bedraggled was the old hawk! He could use his legs and his wings all right, but his beak was caught fast in the door. No matter how he braced his feet and beat his wings, or flapped his tail this way and that, he couldn’t get free. No, siree! He was as fast as a clam at low tide.

“But how are we to get out unless we use the parlor?” said Lady Love. “Besides, the front door has no spring on it. It will be mighty inconvenient on wash day with my hands full of clothes-pins.”

“Shall we let the old bird go?” asked Little Jack Rabbit, hopping up on the window seat to peep over the red geranium flowers in the nice green box on the window sill.

“No, no!” answered Uncle Lucky. “Wait until I call up the Policeman Dog and ask him what’s best to do.”

“One, two, three, Rabbitville,
Hurry up, I can’t keep still.
What’s the matter, Central? Please
Hold the wire while I sneeze,”

cried poor excited Uncle Lucky.

Pretty soon the voice of the Policeman Dog came over the wire, deep and low, kind and soothing:

“What can I do for you, Mr. Lucky Lefthindfoot?”

“Oh, oh, but I’m glad to hear you say that,” answered the dear old gentleman rabbit. “Dear me, but it’s nice and comforting to hear your voice. Please come up here at once.”

“What for?” asked the Policeman Dog.

“Didn’t I tell you?” shouted the old gentleman bunny. “I declare, I’m so worried and out of breath, so excited and scared to death, I forgot to say that Hungry Hawk tried to catch us all while shelling peas on our little back porch. I’ve pinched his big long crooked bill between the kitchen door and the sill, but I don’t know what to do with him.”

“I’ll come right up,” answered the kind police dog and, hanging up the receiver, he put on his cap, picked up his big stick and trotted off for the Old Bramble Patch.

“You’re a good friend of Uncle Lucky’s,” he said, on meeting the Yellow Dog Tramp. “Come along with me while I tell you what has happened to the nice old gentleman bunny.” While explaining matters, whom should they meet but the Big Brown Bear, that friendly old dealer in lollypops and honey balls, the friend of all the forest folk.

“Come along with us,” said the Policeman Dog. “I’ll explain on the way what has happened at the little rabbit’s bungalow.”

“Nothing serious, I hope,” enquired the Big Brown Bear, anxiously. “I’m very fond of Little Jack Rabbit. It was only this morning he bought a lollypop with a carrot cent.”

“Well, it might have been serious if brave Uncle Lucky hadn’t slammed the kitchen door tight shut on Hungry Hawk’s bill.”

“Ha, ha,” laughed the Yellow Dog Tramp, “won’t Hungry Hawk be pleased to see us.”

“Ha, ha, he, he!” laughed the Big Brown Bear, “I’ll tickle him under the chin.”

“Let’s hurry faster,” said the kind Policeman Dog, and climbing over and under the Old Rail Fence they ran up the little path to the tiny white bungalow.

How the Police Dog and the Big Brown Bear
And the Yellow Dog Tramp with his curly hair
Laughed when they heard old Hungry Hawk
Greet them all with an angry squawk.

“What are you trying to do, old bird? Break into the little bungalow?” asked the Policeman Dog.

“You’d better get a jimmy next time,” cried the Yellow Dog Tramp.

“Or an ax,” laughed the Big Brown Bear.

“He isn’t trying to get in,” shouted Uncle Lucky from the kitchen window. “He’s caught fast.” You see, the dear old gentleman rabbit didn’t know that the old robber hawk was being teased by the Policeman Dog and his two friends.

“What shall I do with him?” asked the Policeman Dog.

“Whatever you think best,” answered Uncle Lucky.

“Please take him away,” sighed Lady Love. “I can’t go out on the back porch and I don’t want to wear out the parlor rug.”

“Put him in jail,” shouted Little Jack Rabbit.

“I’ll please you all,” cried the Policeman Dog, and taking a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, he snapped them around Hungry Hawk’s legs. Then padlocking a chain around the old bird’s neck, he told Uncle Lucky to open the kitchen door.

It took the old gentleman rabbit two or three and maybe four minutes to untie the rope around the leg of the kitchen stove and unfasten the other end which was twisted around the doorknob. When all this was done, he pushed open the door.

“Whew! I’m glad to get my bill out!” gasped Hungry Hawk, shaking himself till three feathers fell on the little back porch.

“I’ll make a quill pen,—maybe three quill pens,” said Uncle Lucky, picking up the feathers. “Ha, ha, something good in everything. I had intended to buy a pen at the Three-in-One Cent Store. Now I can save a carrot cent.”

“Come along with us,” said the Policeman Dog, pulling the old Hawk through the fence. “You’ll go to jail for a month of Sundays.”

The Big Brown Bear and the Yellow Dog Tramp followed the Policeman Dog to see that Hungry Hawk didn’t play any tricks on his way to his jail hotel.

“Thank you all for coming up here,” shouted dear Uncle Lucky. “You’re good friends in time of need.”

By and by the old gentleman bunny invited the little rabbit to go for a ride.

Everything was going along nicely when, all of a sudden, just like that, something happened to the Luckymobile and before the old gentleman bunny could tighten a loose screw with the monkey wrench a voice shouted:

“What are you doing, you old rabbit man?
Now throw up your paws as quick as you can.
If you don’t you will learn what a robber can do,
I’m sure you don’t want to be bitten in two.”

“No, no, no!” cried poor Uncle Lucky. “But who are you?”

“I’ll show you,” answered the voice, and out jumped Danny Fox. Dear me, but he looked dreadfully sly in his brown unionalls!

“Please, please don’t bite,” begged poor Uncle Lucky.

“Throw up your paws!” shouted Danny Fox.

Of course there was nothing for the old gentleman rabbit to do but obey, so up went his paws, almost knocking off his old wedding stovepipe hat.

“How much money have you in your pockets?” asked the old robber fox, hardly noticing Little Jack Rabbit.

“Ten lettuce leaf dollar bills and 23 carrot cents,” answered Uncle Lucky, in a trembly voice.

“That’s not much for a rich old rabbit gentleman like you,” growled Danny Fox. “Haven’t you forgotten your old leather wallet?”

“No, sireebus!” replied Uncle Lucky, “but I wish you had!”

“Ha, ha!” laughed the cruel fox, “I think I’ll put you both in this old sack and carry you home.”

“Come, come, Danny Fox,” cried Uncle Lucky. “If you do that you’ll get only ten lettuce leaf dollar bills and 23 carrot cents. I don’t want to be bumped about in an old flour sack.”

“What will you give me if I don’t put you in my old flour sack?” asked that wicked robber.

“20 lettuce leaf dollar bills and 46 carrot cents,” replied poor Uncle Lucky. “You’ll have to trust me till I go home. I’m a little short of change to-day.”

“All right, but let me go through your pockets,” growled the old fox, pushing his paw inside the old rabbit’s coat. Pretty soon he took out a leather wallet.

“Ha, ha!” laughed that wicked beast, “maybe I’ll find a Liberty Bond.” But he didn’t. No, siree! He found only a cigar coupon, two transfers and a picture of Little Jack Rabbit in pretty colors.

“Fudge and oh, dear!” growled Danny Fox. “Take back your wallet. Where are the lettuce leaf dollar bills?”

“In my inside vest pocket,” answered the old gentleman rabbit. But in taking them out Danny Fox tickled dear Uncle Lucky almost to pieces!

“Ha, ha!” went the old fox. “You’re a ticklish bunny rabbit. Goodness me, but you’re tickle-ish!”

“Tee hee! tee hee!” giggled poor Uncle Lucky, squirming this way and that way, until all of a sudden off went his old wedding stovepipe hat!

By this time, however, Danny Fox had the 10 lettuce leaf dollar bills in his paw, and was just going to take the 23 carrot cents when just like that, quick as a wink, and maybe quicker, a rope fell over his head, yanking him backwards.

“Wow, wow, g-r-r-r-r!” coughed and choked the old robber, as the rope grew tighter and tighter. Pretty soon his eyes almost popped out of his head.

“You wicked old beast!” shouted a friendly voice, and the next minute the Cowboy in Uncle Lucky’s Circus ran out from behind the trees.

“What shall I do with this old fox?” he asked, picking up the old stovepipe hat.

“Anything you wish,” replied Uncle Lucky. “Why not take him to the circus and lock him up in a cage? He can be one of the wild animals the children like to look at.”

“To be sure,” said the Cowboy. “Come along,” and he gave a tug to the rope.

“Drop my money before you say good-by, Mr. Danny Fox!” cried anxious Uncle Lucky.

“Oh, let me go, I beg of you,
I’ll die in a circus tent.
Oh, leave me here in the forest dear
Where I never pay any rent,”

begged Danny Fox, as the Cowboy dragged him off to the Circus in Turnip City.

“Don’t listen to him,” cautioned Uncle Lucky, who couldn’t forget how he would have been robbed had the Cowboy not come along just in the nick of time.

“I’ll pay no attention to the old robber,” answered the Cowboy, and in a few minutes he was out of sight.

“Well, that’s a relief,” sighed dear Uncle Lucky, picking up the 10 lettuce leaf dollar bills. “I’m glad to get back my money. But, goodness me! I’ll be late for supper,” and hopping into the Luckymobile, he hurried home to Little Miss Mousie.

BUNNY TALE 18

OLD HOOTY TOOTY OWL

“When everything is going wrong
Just hum a merry little song.
Yes, hum it over twice again,
You’ll find a rainbow through the rain.

And soon the sky will turn a blue,
The rooster sing a cockle-doo,
And Bobbie Redvest from his tree
A song of joy that is to be,”

sang Lady Love, the little rabbit’s pretty mother, as her bunny boy hopped into the kitchen.

“How do you remember all your songs?” he asked.

“I just make them up,” replied Lady Love, with a smile:

“Happiness is in the heart,
Singing all the day.
Nothing’s dull when one is glad—
Work seems just like play.”

“Ha, ha!” laughed the little bunny boy, “I think you could write wonderful fairy stories.”

“Maybe!” answered Lady Love, with a wistful smile, as she ironed her little son’s blouse, “but I’ve only time to dream them. Perhaps some day we’ll find time, you and I, to fill a book with songs of our little white bungalow.”

Just then a knock came at the kitchen door. There stood the Yellow Dog Tramp, his old straw hat over one ear and a little tin can in his hand—I beg your pardon, I mean paw.

“Won’t you fill my old tin cup with coffee till it’s brimming up?” asked the good old Bow-Wow in poetry. You see, he had lived in the woods where the birds sing and the leaves rustle and had turned into a dog poet without knowing it.

“Come right in and you shall see
A lady bunny make turnip tea.
We have no coffee, but you won’t care
If I give you tea and a chocolate éclair,”

answered Lady Love.

“No, indeed!” answered the Yellow Dog Tramp. “I’m not particular,” and carefully wiping his feet on the door-mat, he trotted into the spotless little kitchen.

“My, but you look pretty in your blue apron,” he remarked, as the lady bunny put on the kettle.

“Mother always looks pretty,” agreed Little Jack Rabbit. “She just can’t help it.”

“That’s because she’s always doing something for somebody,” replied the Yellow Dog Tramp. “I remember my mother was just like her, but that was long ago before I left the farm to become a hobo dog.” I guess the Yellow Dog Tramp was right. All mothers are pretty to boys and girls who love them.

“Well, I must be going back to the woods. It’s growing late,” said the old dog, after finishing three éclairs and emptying five tea-cups. “Thank you,” and away he ran.

“Cousin Cottontail has invited us over this evening,” said Lady Love, as she put away the dishes. “She has a new radio set. We’ll go over in time to hear the Jack Rabbit Man tell his stories.”

“Ha, ha!” cried the little bunny, “that will be fine!” and with a skip and a jump he hopped out on the porch where the little canary lived in her gold cage.

“Hello! Little Rabbit,” she twittered. “What makes you so happy?”

“Didn’t you hear what mother just said?” he asked, twinkling his pretty pink nose.

“No, what did she say?” answered the pretty yellow bird.

“That we are invited over to Cousin Cottontail’s to listen to David Cory’s bunny stories.”

Just then out hopped Lady Love and without waiting to tie her bonnet string, hurried after her bunny boy who was already half way to the little gate in the brambles.

But, oh, dear me, and oh, dear all of you little boys and girls! no sooner had these two dear bunnies reached the Old Rail Fence, about fifteen hops and maybe two skips from the Old Bramble Patch, than they heard somebody or something go “Toot, toot, toot!”

“Look out, mother!” cried the little bunny, and with a skiptoe sideways they both hopped into a hollow stump. Wasn’t it lucky that there was a hollow stump close by? Well, I just guess yes three times.

“Who was it?” asked Lady Love, in a whisper.

“Old Hooty Tooty Owl, maybe,” answered the little bunny.

Then they both listened to hear again that disagreeable noise, but all was still in the Shady Forest, so still that one could hardly hear Billy Breeze among the treetops.

“Dear me, I’m afraid to hop out,” whispered the little lady bunny rabbit mother.

“I’m not,” answered the brave little bunny, and out he hopped. But, oh, dear me! I wish he had been more cautious and not so foolishly brave, although I like brave little rabbit boys just the same, but bravery and foolhardiness are two very different things, oh, my yes, indeed.

All of a sudden, just like that, quick as the wind that blows off your hat, Old Hooty Tooty Owl grabbed up the little rabbit and pushed him through the window of his big Tree House.

“I’ll eat you when you’ve grown nice and fat,” tooted that wicked night bird.

“Oh, please let me go home to mother! It will take me a long time to grow big and fat. Maybe I’ll grow thin, instead. Yes, I’ll grow thinner and thinner until by and by I’ll be as thin as a pin,” sobbed the frightened bunny boy.

“Stuff and nonsense!” answered the old owl, “I’ll feed you on lollypops and ice cream cones.”

Just then a great pounding and hammering shook the big tree.

“I wonder who that can be?” thought the bad owl, peeping out of the window.

“Oh, I hope it’s mother with the brave Policeman Dog,” cried the poor frightened little bunny boy.

“Keep quiet,” whispered Hooty Tooty Owl, with a scowl. “If you make any noise I’ll twist off your head.”

Dear, oh, dear! that is a dreadful thing to hear from a big owl when you’re only a little bunny boy rabbit.

All of a sudden the pounding sounded again, only louder than before.

“Oh, I hope it’s mother,” thought the little rabbit, as he cowered and shivered in the corner of the wicked old owl’s sitting room. “Oh, I hope mother knows where I am.”

The next minute there came a tremendous crash—the Old Tree House shook from top to bottom.

“Rats and mice!” exclaimed the wicked owl. “Somebody means business. I guess I’ll look out of the attic window,” and the old feathered robber climbed up to the garret of his tree house, ’way up near the topmost branches, and peeped down.

At the foot of the tree stood poor Little Lady Love, the bunny boy’s mother, and the brave Policeman Dog.

Once again and then five times more this kind Protector of the Law knocked on the door with his great big club. Oh, my! how he did knock! What a thundering hub-a-dub-dub! Crash! smash! went the oak panel, and in fell the door with a bang!!!

“Where are you, my little bunny boy?” cried Lady Love.

“Where are you, Little Jack Rabbit?” shouted the Policeman Dog.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” answered the brave little bunny boy, “just as soon as I untie the rope.”

“Oh, hurry please,” cried Lady Love to the Policeman Dog, “my little boy is tied fast upstairs.”

Up the rickety stairway three steps at a jump went the brave dog and the little bunny’s mother. Pretty soon they came to a dark room, in the farthest corner of which cowered the poor little rabbit boy bunny prisoner.

“You untie the rope!” shouted the Policeman Dog, “I want to catch Old Hooty Tooty,” and up the attic stairs he leaped, only this time he made four steps at a jump.

“My poor little bunny,” cried Lady Love, as she loosened the last knot and clasped him in her arms.

All of a sudden there sounded a dreadful squawk and away flew old Hooty Tooty, tipsy topsy, this way and that way.

“I tickled him with my club,” laughed the Policeman Dog. “Now I’ll see you safe home, although I guess he won’t bother little rabbits for a long time.”

BUNNY TALE 19

LITTLE DEEDS OF KINDNESS

Now let’s see what Uncle Lucky is doing this lovely October weather, when the leaves are red and the pumpkins yellow as sunflowers. My goodness! what a dreadful time the old gentleman bunny had to keep on his old stovepipe hat these windy autumn days. No matter how tight he tied his blue silk polkadot handkerchief over the top and under his chin every once in a while Billy Breeze knocked it off and rolled it along the roadside.

“Well, it’s Autumn again and the leaves are all over the front lawn. I must telephone the old Red Rooster to come over and rake them up,” sighed dear Uncle Lucky, hopping up to the telephone to call up

“Chickentown, oh, yes, oh, yes,
Ring Happy Bells, Sue and Bess!”

“Who is it?” asked a cock-a-doodley voice.

“Mr. Red Rooster, I want you to rake
The leaves from off my front lawn.
I’ll give you some money and plenty of honey.
Did you say that your watch was in pawn?

Well, never mind that, for I have a watch
Which will tell you when five o’clock’s here.
So come up to-morrow and don’t stop to borrow,
I’ll pay you two dollars a year,”

answered funny Uncle Lucky, winking at Little Miss Mousie.

“All right,” agreed the Old Red Rooster. “I’ll be there to-morrow at six.” But whether he or Uncle Lucky hung up the receiver first I don’t know, for I never thought to ask the telephone girl.

“I just hate to have my place look disorderly,” sighed the dear old gentleman rabbit. “I’m glad that old rooster will be here to-morrow, although it makes me angry when he leans on his rake for hours at a time to watch the automobiles go by.”

“Let’s go out to the barn to see the pigeons,” suggested his tiny mouse housekeeper, curious to peep into the little house which Uncle Lucky had built on the roof of his old barn.

“I’ll take some corn along,” he said, filling his old wedding stovepipe hat up to the brim;

“Come, little pigeons, eat up the corn,
I haven’t had time to buy rye,
And you mustn’t care that the store on the square
Has only a fresh apple pie,”

sang dear Uncle Lucky. By and by he hopped back into the house for his afternoon nap.

Bright and early the next morning, before Mr. Merry Sun had taken off his cloudy nightcap, the Old Red Rooster knocked on the kitchen door.

“Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!
Please open the door when I take off my hat!”