CURIOSITY IS SATISFIED
The curious to gratify,
You first will have to satisfy.
_Little Joe Otter._
Peter Rabbit sat at the top of the steep bank of the Laughing Brook in
the Green Forest, as puzzled a Rabbit as ever lived. The queer trail he
had followed ended in this long furrow straight down the steep bank to
the water. Peter hadn’t the least idea who had made that queer trail. So
he sat there, staring all about rather foolishly, and now and then
scratching a long ear with a long hind foot.
“Hello, Peter Rabbit! Isn’t this great weather? Don’t you just love it?
I do,” said a voice.
Peter stared all around, everywhere but in the right direction. Finally
he just happened to look down in the black, cold water of the Laughing
Brook. There in the very middle of it he saw a brown head with a pair of
bright eyes full of mischief looking up at him.
“Little Joe Otter!” cried Peter. “Goodness, how you startled me! I
couldn’t tell where that voice came from. Yes, this is fine weather. I
like it too. But I hope it won’t get any colder.”
“I don’t care how cold it gets,” declared Little Joe Otter. “By the way,
what brings you over here to the Laughing Brook?”
That reminded Peter of the queer trail that had so puzzled him. “Some
one, I haven’t the least idea who, has been traveling about in the Green
Forest, and has left the queerest trail I’ve ever seen,” said he. “In
parts of it there are no footprints at all; there is just a long furrow
in the snow. Here is one of those furrows right down this bank.”
Little Joe Otter’s bright eyes twinkled. “That is queer,” said he. “Now
who under the sun do you suppose could have made it?”
“That’s what I want to know,” declared Peter. “But I guess I’ll have to
keep on wanting, for I don’t see that trail coming out of the water
anywhere.”
“I’ll have to have a little closer look at that. I’ll join you in a
minute,” said Little Joe Otter.
He swam swiftly up the Laughing Brook and came out of the water where
the bank was low. Then he made his way around up to where Peter was
sitting. “That is a queer trail,” said he, trying to keep his eyes from
twinkling. “It looks to me as if some one had slid down there. I tell
you what, Peter, let’s slide down, too, and see how it seems.”
“No, thank you,” replied Peter promptly, and backed away in a rather
undignified manner. Just looking at that cold, black water made him
chilly.
“Oh, come on, Peter! It is the greatest fun in the world!” cried Little
Joe, and giving a quick, hard push with his hind feet he glided right
down that furrow flat on his stomach straight into the water. Peter
looked over at the trail Little Joe had made getting up there. Then in a
flash he understood. That trail which had puzzled him so was made by
Little Joe Otter himself. He had made those queer furrows by sliding on
his stomach in the same way that he had gone down that bank. Peter gave
a happy little sigh. His curiosity was satisfied.