[Illustration]
[Illustration: Chapter IV
_On the Wings of the North Wind_--]
When Mr. Bushy Tail scrambled out of the fire-place, he found himself
in a strange little underground room, from which low passage ways
branched out in every direction.
He ran down one of the passage ways, but finding no one, he came back
and tried another. At the end of this one, in a cosy little room, he
came unexpectedly upon an old acquaintance, Mrs. Mole, who was taking a
comfortable afternoon nap.
She awoke with such a start of surprise at seeing Mr. Bushy Tail, that
she nearly fell out of her rocking-chair.
“I did not hear you knock,” said she.
[Illustration]
“I did not knock, I dropped,” said he.
Then he told her of his accident, and apologized most politely, for
falling so unceremoniously down her chimney.
Mrs. Mole assured him that he was a welcome visitor at any time, and
only regretted that her chimney had tripped him up.
She was very sorry that her husband and sons were away on business,
but urged him strongly to stay to supper.
With many thanks Mr. Bushy Tail was obliged to decline her polite
invitation, but he assured her that, considering his hungry family, he
must hurry home with his bag of food as soon as possible, and begged
her to kindly show him the nearest way out of her maze-like house.
When, after following Mrs. Mole through a number of long, winding,
passages, Mr. Bushy Tail came at last to the surface of the ground, it
was snowing hard, and the dreaded North wind was blowing half a gale.
[Illustration]
He found himself outside the shelter of the woods, on a broad plain,
and he felt that his only safety lay in getting back among the trees.
He started off at full speed, and had gone some distance, when
suddenly the North wind struck him, and lifted him completely off his
four little paws.
There was no use in struggling, so he lay quite still, and was whirled
away, faster and faster. _Miles and miles was he blown_, until finally
he fell asleep from sheer exhaustion and fright.
When he awoke it was night, and still the wild wind was carrying him
far, far away.
His precious bag was still on his shoulder, for he had clung to it even
in his terror, but the string had become untied, and most of the food
had been blown away.
He ate a little of the corn, but he was too frightened to be hungry,
and very soon, numb and dazed with the cold, he fell asleep again.
[Illustration]