Well, to go back to Little Jack Rabbit and Old Sic’em, who were
watching Danny Fox sneak through the trees, as I mentioned two stories
ago.
“Oh dear me! There is that dreadful fox again,” sighed the little bunny
boy.
“You don’t mean it!” exclaimed the old watchdog, and he told the little
rabbit all that I’ve just told you. And when he had finished, he went
inside his little doghouse and brought out the tip of Danny Fox’s
beautiful bushy tail.
Just then the Kind Farmer whistled from the woodpile, and away hopped
the little rabbit to hide in the long meadow grass.
All of a sudden he met Timmy Meadowmouse near his little round house of
woven grass, fastened on three stiff stalks.
“Helloa, Little Jack Rabbit. Are you hiding from somebody?” Just then,
oh dear me! a big snake crawled out of the ground and away went the
little meadowmouse, and away hopped the little bunny, and if Bobbie
Redvest hadn’t told me, I don’t believe I ever would have found out
where they did go.
Well, by and by, after a while, Little Jack Rabbit came to the Old Duck
Pond where Granddaddy Bullfrog sat on his log all day fishing for flies
and tiny fishes. Just overhead hung the old willow tree in which little
Mrs. Oriole had her nest, fastened like an old stocking to one of the
drooping branches.
And if I stop a minute to think, I guess I’ll remember some more
friends of the little rabbit. Why, of course. There was Teddy Turtle,
who carried his little shell house around with him all the time, and
the little Freshwater Crab, and Mrs. Darning Needle, skimming over the
water like an airship.
The little rabbit stopped under the shady willow tree and looked about
him. It was a warm day and very still, for Billy Breeze had fallen
asleep somewhere in the Shady Forest.
Pretty soon Granddaddy Bullfrog dozed off and Mrs. Oriole sang softly
to her little ones:
“Little birds within the nest
Some day you will fly away.
Then the weeping willow tree
To the meadow grass will say;
“‘Oh, I feel so lonely now,
An empty nest hangs from my bough.
Must I wait until the Spring
To hear the little birdies sing?’”
And wasn’t Little Jack Rabbit surprised to hear the Willow Tree finish
the song.
“Do you remember how you once hid me with your drooping branches from
Danny Fox?” he asked.
And the kind willow tree answered softly: “Yes, Little Jack Rabbit.”