[Illustration]
[Illustration: Chapter V
_At the Top of the South Pole_]
All the next day and night, the fierce North wind kept on blowing a
gale, but towards morning of the third day, it seemed to Mr. Bushy
Tail that he was going more slowly, and just as the sun rose, he was
suddenly dropped.
[Illustration]
What he rested on he could not tell, but in a few minutes, as it grew
lighter, he looked about him, and saw it was a very high wooden post.
Then he knew he was sitting on top of the South Pole, where the North
wind _has_ to stop blowing, or else it becomes a South wind.
[Illustration]
It was beautifully warm, and poor Bushy Tail stretched himself most
comfortably in the sunshine, and thawed out his half-frozen little paws.
He felt very much shaken-up and alone in the world, and, with tears in
his eyes, he thought of his little wife and hungry babies, and wondered
if he should ever get home to them.
In the first place, he could not see any possible way of getting
down from his lofty perch. The sides of the Pole were very smooth and
slippery, and the Pole itself was much too high for comfort or safety,
if you tried jumping off.
[Illustration]
While he was pondering ways and means of descent, he heard a high
squeaky voice say:
“Try the middle course.”
Peering over the edge of the Pole, Mr. Bushy Tail espied on the ground,
far below, a funny little creature, such as he had never seen before.
It was covered with long blue quills, and moved slowly, and with much
dignity.
“What is the middle course?” asked Mr. Bushy Tail, timidly.
[Illustration]
“Why the middle of the Pole, you goose!” replied the squeaky voice.
Mr. Bushy Tail thought this mode of address not strictly polite,
especially to a stranger, but he said nothing, and looked about him on
top of the Pole.
Sure enough, right in the middle was a little winding staircase, down
which he scrambled into darkness.