leave and, thanking the Little Donkey for a pleasant time, the old
gentleman rabbit hopped into the Luckymobile.
“You can drop me off at the cornfield,” said the Scarecrow. “Turkey
Tim must be lonesome by this time.”
And shortly after the two little rabbits were safe at home for the
night.
BUNNY TALE 26
THE RACE
The Big Brown Bear, the Yellow Dog Tramp, and Sammy Skunk, Esq., of
Sleepy Hollow, were playing pinochle in a little log cabin.
Just then who should come along in the Luckymobile but Mr. Lucky
Lefthindfoot, the dear old gentleman bunny rabbit.
“Honk, honk!” went his horn and “Hello, hello!” he shouted, stopping
all of a sudden, just like that, quick as a wink, right in front of
the little log hut. “Who’ll be the next President?” and in he hopped
to shake hands with his Shady Forest friends.
“Hope you’ll be,” answered all three with a smile, for everybody
likes Uncle Lucky. Oh, my, yes!
“My, but you fellows look all mussed up,” exclaimed the old gentleman
rabbit.
“We couldn’t look spick and span after the fight we’ve just had with
Mr. Wicked Wolf and Danny Fox,” replied the Yellow Dog Tramp. “Of
course my clothes are not of the latest style nor just pressed. But
to wrestle with Danny Fox would make a dress suit look like a pair of
overalls,—and maybe worse.”
“Come, jump into the Luckymobile,” said the old gentleman bunny,
with a kind smile. “I’ll take you all for a ride.”
In climbed the Big Brown Bear and the Yellow Dog Tramp, but Sammy
Skunk suddenly remembered he had an errand to do.
“I can’t go,” he apologized. “I must get a spool of cotton for Mrs.
Skunk at the Three-in-One Cent Store.”
“Maybe I can drop you there,” suggested kind Uncle Lucky. But Sammy
Skunk wouldn’t hear of it.
“No, no! Some other time,” he shouted, as he hurried off in the
opposite direction.
“Well, where shall we go?” asked considerate Uncle Lucky, honking
the horn before he put on his goggles. Then fastening his blue silk
polkadot handkerchief over his old wedding stovepipe hat and under
his chin and winding his gold watch and chain, he started up the
Luckymobile, his two friends on the back seat smiling away as if they
were going to the circus or a baseball game at Carrot City.
After a while and a bump and a smile and maybe a laugh or three,
there came into view a big kangaroo and a fat old bumblebee.
Dear, dear! Why didn’t my typewriter put this pretty rhyme into
verse. I guess it forgot I’m a poet!
“Stop, stop!” shouted the Kangaroo. “If you don’t I’ll give a hop
and a jump and perhaps a skip or two and land myself right in the
Luckymobile. I can jump much farther than you.”
“Yes, you have long hind legs,” smiled Uncle Lucky, re-flec-tive-ly,
which means thinking hard while you speak. “You’re the largest hopper
I’ve ever seen.”
“You’re a pretty good jumper yourself,” answered the Kangaroo,
grinning at nice Uncle Lucky. “Let’s have a race. I’ll give you a
handicap.”
“I don’t need one—I’ve my dear old wedding stovepipe hat,” answered
the old gentleman rabbit, hopping out of the Luckymobile.
“Who’ll be the judge?” asked the Big Brown Bear.
“Not me,” said the Yellow Dog Tramp, although he should have said,
“Not I.” But school is over and the teacher is away, so we’ll let it
go this once.
“I’ll be the judge,” said the Old Fat Bumble Bee. “I’ll be
Timekeeper, too, for I have a little gold watch.”
By this time the Kangaroo and dear Uncle Lucky were all ready for
the race. The old gentleman bunny was twenty-two hops in front of
the Kangaroo and the course was over to a big rock and back to the
Luckymobile.
“You start them off,” said the Old Fat Bumble Bee, to the Yellow Dog
Tramp.
“All right,” answered the obliging dog, commencing to count.
“One, two, three,—go!”
Away went dear Uncle Lucky across the meadow and after him the great
long-legged Kangaroo. Just one of his jumps was equal to three and a
half of the rabbit bunny man.
“Hurry up! Uncle Lucky!” shouted the Big Brown Bear.
[Illustration: “You’re a pretty good jumper yourself”]
“Catch him!” cried the Old Bumble Bee, who was the Kangaroo’s friend,
although I forgot to mention it sooner.
“Go it!” shouted the Yellow Dog Tramp. “Go it, Uncle Lucky!”
And then the old gentleman bunny went faster than ever. I guess it
was all the blue silk polkadot handkerchief could do to keep his old
wedding stovepipe hat from falling off!
“Goodness me!” gasped Uncle Lucky, as he turned back from the big
rock on his way home to the winning place, “that Kangaroo is gaining
on me. I must hop a little faster and then some more.”
“My, but that old gentleman rabbit is pretty good yet,” thought the
Kangaroo, touching the big rock and starting back after the old
gentleman bunny sprinter.
“Come on! Come on! Uncle Lucky!” shouted the Big Brown Bear, jumping
up and down on the front seat of the Luckymobile.
“Hurry up, hurry up!” barked the Yellow Dog Tramp. “Hurry up, Uncle
Lucky!”
“Catch him!” cried the Old Bumble Bee to the long legged Kangaroo.
“Dearest me!” gasped poor Uncle Lucky, “I’m most in!”
Just then, and it was mighty lucky, too, as you’ll soon see, the blue
silk polkadot handkerchief slipped off his old wedding stovepipe, and
before the old gentleman bunny could save it that precious hat had
fallen to the ground.
“Don’t stop!” shouted the Big Brown Bear. And Uncle Lucky didn’t.
Neither did the long-legged Kangaroo. He tried hard not to step into
the stovepipe hat, but in slipped his right foot and over he went,
tripperty trip, flat on the meadow grass, and the next minute the old
gentleman bunny had touched the Luckymobile and won the race.
“Hip, hurrah!” barked the Yellow Dog Tramp.
“Three cheers!” shouted the Big Brown Bear, but Uncle Lucky didn’t
say anything. He didn’t care nearly so much about winning as he did
to find out whether his dear old wedding stovepipe hat were injured.
Hopping quickly back to the Kangaroo, who was just struggling to his
feet, the old gentleman rabbit exclaimed:
“Oh, please be careful of my hat
And gently pull it off.
Just hold your breath and close your eyes
And don’t you dare to cough.”
“Don’t worry,” answered the Kangaroo, hopping about on one foot while
he tugged at the old stovepipe hat. “I’ll not cough, but I may do
something else,” and he began to look dreadfully cross. “This hat is
so tight it makes my pinky ache.”
“Sit down, sit down!” advised Uncle Lucky. “The first thing you know
you’ll lose your balance and that will be the end of my dear old
wedding stovepipe hat. Oh, please sit down.”
But, oh, dear me! The Kangaroo suddenly stubbed his toe on a
buttercup, and down he went, head over heels, on the meadow.
“Oh, dear, oh, dear, what shall I do
If my dear old hat is broken!
Since ’63 it’s been to me
A loving memory token,”
cried the old gentleman rabbit, hopping over to the sprawling
Kangaroo.
“There, take your old hat,” he grumbled, pulling out his foot with a
desperate tug, “I lost the race on account of it and my temper, too.
Take it away before I lose my money.”
The old gentleman bunny lost no time in placing it on his head and
with a thank you and hope I meet you soon again, he hopped into his
Luckymobile and drove away with his two good friends, the Big Brown
Bear and the Yellow Dog Tramp.
BUNNY TALE 27
THE OLD BROWN HORSE
One morning, oh, so early,
When the dew shone on the grass
And the Mill Pond lay so quiet
It seemed a looking glass,
Little Jack Rabbit hopped up the Winding Trail in the Shady Forest to
the Forest Pool, in which Busy Beaver had a nice bungalow.
Of course this little hairy swimmer was at home. Yes, indeed. There
he sat on the bank, looking here and looking there, just as if he
hadn’t a single care.
“Hello!” shouted the little bunny boy rabbit.
“Well, I’m glad to see you,” answered Busy Beaver. “It’s a long time
since you’ve made a call.”
“So it is,” replied the little rabbit, “but you’re not the only busy
person in the world.”
“I’m not busy just now. You see, I work on my new building at night,”
and Busy Beaver flapped the water with his long flat tail.
“Where are the other members of the family?” asked the polite little
rabbit. You see, not having made a call for so long a time he had
forgotten all their names.
“Oh, they’re cutting down some small trees,” replied Busy Beaver.
“As we live on land and in the water, we must have two houses. Then,
too, as the children grow up we need more, which keeps us busy all
the time.”
“Well, remember me to everybody,” said the little bunny boy rabbit,
and away he hopped, lipperty lip, clipperty clip until all of a
sudden, just like that, whom should he see but the Farmer’s Boy with
a gun over his shoulder.
“Dear, dear!” thought the little rabbit. “Is he going to shoot Busy
Beaver, I wonder. His nice fur coat would make a warm pair of gloves
for the cold weather. I guess I’ll warn Busy Beaver.”
So back hopped this kind-hearted little bunny, clipperty clip,
lipperty lip, looking over his shoulder now and then and sometimes
oftener to see if the Farmer’s Boy was following him.
“What are you back for?” asked Busy Beaver, as all out of breath
Little Jack Rabbit stopped again at the Shady Forest Pool.
“S-s-sh!” whispered the little bunny. “The Farmer’s Boy is out with
his gun. I just saw him up the Shady Forest Trail. That’s why I
hopped back.”
“Very kind of you,” answered the little beaver. “Guess I’ll take to
the water. I’ve got a nice hiding place not far from here. Good-by,”
and away he swam in his nice chestnut brown fur coat, leaving the
boy bunny rabbit all alone. Dear me! I hope the Farmer’s Boy doesn’t
shoot him before I get him safely away, too.
“What was that?” thought the Farmer’s Boy as Little Jack Rabbit
hopped into a hollow stump near by. “What was that?” repeated the
curious boy, tiptoeing over to the Shady Forest Pool. I guess he had
heard the slap of the little beaver’s long flat tail as he dived down
under the water to reach his front door.
Pretty soon the Farmer’s Boy turned away and walked up to the hollow
stump. He was just going to thrust in his arm when he heard a great
splashing in the Shady Forest Pool. My goodness, how Busy Beaver was
flapping the water with his big flat tail, sending the spray flying
in all directions.
At once the Farmer’s Boy forgot all about the hollow stump. Lifting
his gun to his shoulder, he took careful aim, but before he could
pull the trigger a big drop of water spattered in his eye and he
dropped the gun to take out his pocket handkerchief. Wait a minute,
please, I’ve made a mistake. I meant to say he dropped his gun to
brush the water from his eye with his coat sleeve.
“Now’s your chance!” shouted Busy Beaver.
Of course the Farmer’s Boy didn’t understand this warning, but the
little rabbit did. Peeking out of the hollow stump for just a minute,
he went hipperty hop, clipperty clip, lipperty lip down the Shady
Forest Trail, past the wooded hillside where beneath a pile of rocks
Danny Fox had his den.
“Now’s my chance,” thought Danny Fox, and out he jumped from his
rocky bungalow.
“Dear, oh, dear me! Now what shall I do? I’m a goner, I know it!”
cried the poor little bunny boy rabbit. “Yes, I’m a goner as sure as
sunshine follows rain.”
“Stop whispering to yourself!” snarled the wicked fox. “I’ve a good
mind to eat you right now before the Policeman Dog happens by with
his big hickory stick.”
[Illustration: “Now’s my chance,” thought Danny Fox.]
“Please do—I mean, please don’t! Oh, dear, oh, dear, I don’t know
what I mean!” cried the poor frightened little bunny, his pink nose
twinkling like a star on a frosty night.
“Gr-r-r!” snarled the old fox, creeping closer and closer till his
hot breath burned the shivering little rabbit’s whiskers. “I’m going
to eat you now. Make no mistake about it. You have given me the slip
once too often.”
“No, you’re not!” shouted a friendly voice and from behind a clump
of trees out ran the Old Brown Horse. Turning quickly around, he let
fly with his two hind feet, sending Danny Fox through the air like a
hairy four-footed two-eared football.
“Never come back!” cried the Old Brown Horse, leaning over to see if
the little rabbit was all right. Of course he was, but all a-tremble.
“Thank you,” he cried. “Won’t you come home with me? You can sleep in
our Little Red Barn.”
“All right,” answered the Big Brown Horse, trotting after the little
bunny rabbit boy.
“Perhaps if you hop on my back you’ll be home in the Old Bramble
Patch in two shakes of a lamb’s tail,” said the Old Brown Horse,
noticing how trembly the little rabbit was.
So up hopped the little bunny boy and away they went, trottery trot,
bumperty, bump! By and by, after a while, and a laugh and a smile,
they came to a big wide river.
“I’m not a very good swimmer,” apologized the kind four-footed
animal, “but maybe I can manage to get across.”
“Don’t take too many chances,” advised the little bunny boy rabbit.
But the Old Brown Horse kept right on wading into the water and
pretty soon it was up to his shoulder. All of a sudden his feet
couldn’t touch bottom. Only a little bit of the top of his back was
above water and Little Jack Rabbit had to pull up his feet and hug
tight to the Old Brown Horse—hold tight to his mane, you know, so he
wouldn’t slip off.
They were now out in the middle of the river where the water ran fast
and furious. Dear me! It was now hard work to swim and the Old Brown
Horse began to puff and pant as down the river they drifted with the
fast flowing current.
“I guess I’m all in,” panted the poor tired steed. “I never was a
fine swimmer. The race track was the place where I could show my
heels to the best of them!”
“What are we going to do?” asked the anxious little bunny boy, as
they drifted farther and farther away. The trees on the shore nodded
and seemed to beckon them to swim to land. The white fleecy clouds up
in the sky took the shape of fingers pointing to the shore. The poor
Old Brown Horse was all tired out and his long thin legs made poor
paddle wheels. If only his feet had been flat like Ducky Waddles it
would have been an easy matter to have made the shore and landed his
little bunny rider safely on the grass.
By and by Mr. Merry Sun drew close to the tip of the Western Hills.
The sky became all pinky-purple and golden-blue. Billy Breeze began
to whisper sleepy music in the treetops and the birds to fly home to
their leafy nests. I guess Mrs. Cow was ringing the little bell on
her leather collar to call her long-legged calf. It was past supper
time and the Twinkle Twinkle Star would be shining from the sky.
“What shall we do?” asked the little anxious bunny.
“I don’t know,” sadly replied the poor steed. “My feet are dreadfully
stiff and cold. I can hardly swish my tail it’s so wet and heavy.”
Just then a voice came across the darkening waters: “I’ll help you!”
“Do it quick!” gasped the Old Brown Horse, still bravely struggling
in the swift current. “I’m all in!”
“Oh, please come at once with a boat or a life preserver!” shouted
Little Jack Rabbit. “My dear Old Brown Horse is nearly drowned.”
The next moment around a bend in the river came the Billy Goat with
his Ferryboat. You remember the Ferryboat, don’t you? The old rowboat
with a bicycle in the middle and paddle wheels on the side to push it
ahead or backward or any way which Captain Billygoat wished to go.
“Oh, hurry, hurry!” shouted the poor frightened little bunny boy, as
the Old Brown Horse floundered about in the angry waters, his head
at times almost disappearing and his poor hind legs refusing to make
another stroke.
“I’m coming. Keep up!” shouted back the kind Billy Goat, making his
hind legs go so fast that the spray from the paddle wheels almost
hid him from view. At last, however, and none too soon, he came
alongside the poor tired horse.
“Quick! Jump in!” shouted the Billy Goat, and in hopped the bunny
rabbit boy.
[Illustration: “Lay your head in the boat,” cried the Billy Goat.]
“Lay your head in the boat,” cried the Billy Goat to the Old Brown
Horse.
Dear me! The poor old fellow had scarcely enough strength to do even
that. At length, however, he began to breathe easier, for all he had
to do was just be towed along.
“You saved me from a watery grave, kind Billy Goat Ferry Man. Some
day I’ll do you a friendly deed,” said the grateful horse when the
Ferryboat reached the shore.
“Oh, don’t mention it,” replied the Billy Goat. “I’d do anything for
you and Little Jack Rabbit. Give my regards to the folks at home!”
and away paddled the good lifesaver in his paddle-wheel rowboat to
the wharf where the little rabbit boys and girls waited for him to
take them to ice cream picnics or lollypop clambakes.
“I’ll take you home now that I’m nicely rested,” said the Old Brown
Horse. “I declare, I never thought this river had so swift a current.”
“Oh, I was so frightened,” answered the little rabbit, climbing on
his back. “I thought I’d never see the dear Old Bramble Patch again.
I want to get home to mother.”
“You’ll be there pretty soon,” replied the old horse, setting off at
a brisk trot.
As they neared the Old Bramble Patch they saw Lady Love standing at
the gate, shading her eyes with her front paw.
“Home again, my little bunny.
Come and eat your bread and honey.
You have been away all day,
Now with mother you may stay,”
sang the pretty canary.
BUNNY TALE 28
THE VISIT
Oh, when you don’t know what to do
Just take a book and read it through.
Most often something there you’ll find
To give you a contented mind.
You see, we often grow tired of the same old thing. Our roller
skates are put aside, our bat and ball don’t interest us; we don’t
wish to even run about and look for a good time. And that’s just the
way Little Jack Rabbit felt. So, what did he do? Well, he didn’t do
anything till Lady Love, his patient bunny rabbit mother, suggested
that he read a book.
“What shall I read?” he asked, wiggling his little pink nose as much
as to say, “I’d rather eat a lollypop.” But his mother didn’t notice
his twinkling nose,—or, if she did, she merely overlooked it.
“Yes, why don’t you read a book,” she repeated. “Books are like
friends, sometimes they teach us things, sometimes they amuse us, and
sometimes——”
She had no need to finish her sentence, for the little rabbit boy had
hopped over to the bookshelf.
After looking over the row of pretty books he picked out one that was
called:
“BUNNY BOY’S CRACKER ANIMALS.”
“That sounds interesting,” said the little rabbit boy to himself,
and, hopping into a chair, he began to read:
“Once upon a time there lived a Bunny Boy Rabbit who had a little
knapsack in which he kept animal crackers. Now this little bunny
boy was so fond of his cracker animals that he never could bear
to bite off a head or an ear, or a trunk or a tail. By and by
his knapsack became so full that it could hold no more. And then
something happened. As he hopped along one day he thought to
himself, ‘What a racket those Animal Crackers are making in my
knapsack. Maybe they are trying to get out.’
“Well, that’s just what they were doing. And all of a sudden,
quicker than a wink, the knapsack burst open and
“Away went the Elephant and the Gnu,
The tall Giraffe and the Kangaroo,
The tawny Tiger and Polar Bear,
And the Buffalo Bull with his shaggy hair.
“‘Come back, come back!’ shouted the bunny boy rabbit.
“‘No, siree!’ answered the Animal Crackers, ‘we’re going back to
our little Cracker Boxes!’ and away they went, leaving the Bunny
Boy Rabbit to fill his knapsack with clover tops or lettuce leaves.”
“Now what shall I do?” cried Little Jack Rabbit.
“Why not visit Uncle John Hare? I’ll pack your clothes in a jiffy,”
suggested the little bunny’s mother, looking up from her ironing.
Pretty soon along came the Old Dog Driver with his billy goat team.
“I shall miss you,” said Lady Love, kissing her bunny boy, as he
hopped into the carriage.
“Goodness gracious meebus, if that isn’t my little bunny nephew!”
shouted dear Uncle Lucky, as the carriage stopped by Lily Pond Lake.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m on my way to Uncle John Hare,” answered Little Jack Rabbit.
“I’ve a package for him and my knapsack is packed full of clothes.
Mother bought me a new tie.”
“What, are you going to make a visit?” asked dear Uncle Lucky,
anxiously. He never could keep away very long from his little rabbit
nephew. Dear me, no! Uncle Lucky was so fond of Little Jack Rabbit
that he wanted to be with him all the time, and even oftener.
“Dear me,” went on poor Uncle Lucky, a lonely feeling spreading all
over him from his toes to his head, “I’ll miss you dreadfully.”
“That’s what mother said this morning when she kissed me good-by,”
answered Little Jack Rabbit.
“Don’t blame her,” said the old gentleman bunny.
“She said something else, too,” added his little rabbit nephew.
“What was it?” asked dear Uncle Lucky.
“She told me to say every morning when I hopped out of bed, ‘Every
day and in every way, I grow better and better.’”
“Don’t forget to do what mother says,” advised Uncle Lucky. “Do what
mother says and you’ll never be sorry.”
[Illustration: “Once upon a time,” she began.]
“Can’t wait much longer,” shouted the Old Dog Driver, knocking the
ashes from his pipe. Then, picking up the lines, he clicked git-ap to
his billy goats and away rattled the carriage.
“I wish Uncle Lucky were coming, too,” sighed Little Jack Rabbit, as
they bumped along over the rough road.
[Illustration: The knapsack burst open]
“What did you say, little bunny?” asked a motherly looking lady
goose, one of the passengers on her way to Goose Creek, Meadowland.
“Oh, I was just thinking aloud,” answered the little bunny boy
rabbit. “But what’s the use of wishing? Wishes don’t come true.”
“Sometimes they do,” laughed the nice, kind lady goose, placing
her soft feathered wing around him. “I once had an old grandmother
goose who told me stories. I haven’t forgotten them. Oh, my, no! I
told them to a man and he put them all in a book called “Grandmother
Goosey’s Bedtime Rimes”!
“Tell me one,” said Little Jack Rabbit, sleepily.
“Once upon a time,” began the kind lady goose, but before she could
say another word the bunny boy was sound asleep.
By and by the Old Dog Driver shouted, “Turnip City! All out!”
Sure enough, it was Turnip City! Just across Lettuce Square on the
front porch of his pretty white house stood Uncle John Hare and
behind him in the doorway, Mrs. Daisy Duck, his nice old housekeeper.
“Good-by,” cried Little Jack Rabbit, taking off his cap to the Old
Lady Goose. Then away he hopped across the square and up the walk
that led from the little white gate to the front piazza of Uncle
John’s neat little bungalow.
“Well, I’m glad to see you,” cried the nice old gentleman bunny,
patting his small nephew on the head.
“And so am I,” quacked Mrs. Daisy Duck. “Now there’ll be somebody
young and frisky in the house.”
“What, am I growing so old?” asked Uncle John Hare, hopping about on
the piazza with Little Jack Rabbit.
[Illustration: “I feel only twenty-one.”]
“I feel only twenty one
Or maybe twenty two.
I’m only just a kid at heart,
The same as little you,”
he sang, smiling at his small bunny nephew.
“Quack, quack, quack!
I’ve a little country shack,
With cheese and crackers on the shelf
To which I take my tired self,”
sang Mrs. Daisy Duck.
“It’s down by the Old Duck Pond,” whispered Uncle John Hare. “Mrs.
Daisy Duck thinks I don’t know, but one day I hop-tiptoed after her.
Don’t tell her, I think she has a nest in her little shack. Maybe
someday there’ll be a brood of ducklings.”
“What are you whispering about?” asked the old lady duck, with a
quack and a flap of her wings. “Secrets?”
“Maybe,” answered the old gentleman bunny. “Or, perhaps, advice. Give
you three guesses.”
“Haven’t time,” answered Mrs. Daisy Duck, bustling out to the kitchen
to look at the lollypop stew and carrot cake. “I must think about
supper.”
“Come to your own little room,” said Uncle John Hare, leading the way
up the winding stair. His little rabbit nephew followed, his knapsack
swinging over his shoulder and his striped candy cane dangling from
his elbow.
“There,” exclaimed the dear old gentleman hare, throwing open the
door, “nothing has been changed except the calendar. Every day I tore
off the date, saying to myself, ‘Perhaps to-morrow he’ll come again
to visit his old uncle.’ It came true this morning, so it did,” and
with a happy sigh the loving old bunny hare sat down in the rocking
chair.
“Yes, your little room has been kept just the same for you,” he went
on, “and you must make a long, long visit this time.”