Let's see, I left off in the last story just where Billy Bunny landed on
the bank of the river. Well, now I'm going to tell you what happened
after that.
"I was lucky to get across on that old board," thought the little
rabbit, as he hopped up the bank to look about him. The field was
covered with daisies and in the distance a black cow stood flicking off
the flies with her long tail.
"Helloa!" cried the little rabbit. "Why don't you eat the flowers?" The
black cow looked up and said:
"Why don't you stand on your head?" And, would you believe it, Billy
Bunny did. Yes, sir. He stood first on his right ear and then on his
left ear, and then he turned two somersaults and a handspring backward,
and this made the cow laugh so hard that she got her tail twisted around
a fence rail and couldn't get away.
"What shall I do?" she cried, anxiously. "It's almost milking time, and
when I don't come home they'll wonder where I am. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!"
"Don't worry," said Billy Bunny, and he opened his knapsack and took out
his little hatchet and chopped the tail--I mean the rail--off the fence
so that she could get home, although, of course, she had to drag the
rail all the way back to the farm, and the farmer scolded her for
breaking down his fence, which was too bad, for she couldn't help it,
you know.
Well, after that the little rabbit hopped away, and by and by, just as
it was getting quite dark, he came to a big pile of wood. "Now this will
be a good place for me to sleep," he said to himself, and looked about
for a hole to squeeze into. But, oh dear me, and oh dear you!
A big owl flew out and hooted and tooted three times and a half, and
then winked his eyes at the little rabbit until he was so scared he
could hardly stand up.
"Oh, please, Mr. Owl, don't hooty-tooty me so. I don't mean any harm."
"What are you doing in my woodpile?" asked the blinky old bird fiercely.
"Trying to steal my wood, eh?"
"Oh, no, Mr. Owl," cried Billy Bunny. "I was only looking for a place to
sleep."
"I don't believe you," screeched the blinky winky bird, and he made a
grab for the little rabbit with his hooked feet. And he would have
caught Billy Bunny, too, and eaten him for supper that very night, I
guess, if the little rabbit hadn't pulled his popgun out of his knapsack
and hit the wicked owl on the tail with the cork bullet, which so scared
the ugly old bird that he flew into the forest. After that Billy Bunny
crept into the woodpile and went to sleep and dreamed that it caught on
fire and the sparks flew up into the air and covered the whole sky with
twinkling stars.