Part 1

Chapter 14,380 wordsPublic domain

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_Twilight Animal Series_

BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT AND HIS FRIENDS

By GEORGE ETHELBERT WALSH

_Author of “Bumper the White Rabbit,” “Bumper the White Rabbit in the Woods,” “Bumper the White Rabbit and His Foes,” “Bumper the White Rabbit and His Friends,” “Bobby Gray Squirrel,” “Bobby Gray Squirrel’s Adventures,” Etc._

_Colored Illustrations by EDWIN JOHN PRITTIE_

THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY CHICAGO PHILADELPHIA TORONTO

TWILIGHT ANIMAL SERIES FOR BOYS AND GIRLS

FROM 4 TO 10 YEARS OF AGE

By GEORGE ETHELBERT WALSH

LIST OF TITLES

1 BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT 2 BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT IN THE WOODS 3 BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT AND HIS FOES 4 BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT AND HIS FRIENDS 5 BOBBY GRAY SQUIRREL 6 BOBBY GRAY SQUIRREL’S ADVENTURES 7 BUSTER THE BIG BROWN BEAR 8 BUSTER THE BIG BROWN BEAR’S ADVENTURES 9 WHITE TAIL THE DEER 10 WHITE TAIL THE DEER’S ADVENTURES 11 WASHER, THE RACCOON

(Other titles in preparation)

Issued in uniform style with this volume PRICE 65 CENTS EACH, Postpaid

EACH VOLUME CONTAINS COLORED ILLUSTRATIONS

INTRODUCTION TO THE TWILIGHT ANIMAL STORIES

BY THE AUTHOR

All little boys and girls who love animals should become acquainted with Bumper the white rabbit, with Bobby Gray Squirrel, with Buster the Bear, and with White Tail the deer, for they are all a jolly lot, brave and fearless in danger, and so lovable that you won’t lay down any one of the books without saying wistfully, “I almost wish I had them really and truly as friends and not just storybook acquaintances.” That, of course, is a splendid wish; but none of us could afford to have a big menagerie of wild animals, and that’s just what you would have to do if you went outside of the books. Bumper had many friends, such as Mr. Blind Rabbit, Fuzzy Wuzz and Goggle Eyes, his country cousins; and Bobby Gray Squirrel had his near cousins, Stripe the chipmunk and Webb the flying squirrel; while Buster and White Tail were favored with an endless number of friends and relatives. If we turned them all loose from the books, and put them in a ten-acre lot--but no, ten acres wouldn’t be big enough to accommodate them, perhaps not a hundred acres.

So we will leave them just where they are--in the books--and read about them, and let our imaginations take us to them where we can see them playing, skipping, singing, and sometimes fighting, and if we read very carefully, and _think_ as we go along, we may come to know them even better than if we went out hunting for them.

Another thing we should remember. By leaving them in the books, hundreds and thousands of other boys and girls can enjoy them, too, sharing with us the pleasures of the imagination, which after all is one of the greatest things in the world. In gathering them together in a real menagerie, we would be selfish both to Bumper, Bobby, Buster, White Tail and their friends as well as to thousands of other little readers who could not share them with us. So these books of Twilight Animal Stories are dedicated to all little boys and girls who love wild animals. All others are forbidden to read them! They wouldn’t understand them if they did.

So come out into the woods with me, and let us listen and watch, and I promise you it will be worth while.

BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT AND HIS FRIENDS

STORY I

BUMPER AND SLEEPY THE OPOSSUM

Bumper, after working hard to trick his enemies so they would be more afraid of the rabbits in the woods, had decided the ways of peace were better than those of war. Not that he was going to permit Sneaky the Wolf or Loup the Lynx to pounce upon his people and eat them up without fighting, but instead of going around with a chip on his shoulder, expecting and looking for trouble, he intended to make friends of all the animals and birds, and be helpful to them.

It is wonderful how much good to others we can overlook if we go about with our eyes shut. There is plenty to do if we look for it. So Bumper found in a short time that he had missed a good deal in always looking for the worst in others instead of for the best.

Only a few days after his change of plans, which was told of in a former book, Bumper stumbled upon Sleepy the Opossum in a tree, with his eyes closed in slumber. At first he was going to pass him without a word of greeting, for Sleepy had more than once angered him by his sharp tongue. Then he thought better of it.

“Hello, Sleepy!” he called good-naturedly.

“Hello yourself!” was the sullen retort. “What do you want to wake me up for! Go on about your business, and let me sleep!”

Bumper was a little nettled at this sharp retort, and was going to answer back in a huff; but he didn’t. He remembered his new resolution.

“If I were you, Sleepy,” he said instead, “I wouldn’t sleep outdoors in plain sight like that. You know Loup the Lynx is hunting in these woods now.”

Sleepy opened both eyes an instant, and then closed them again. “You can’t scare me,” he drawled. “I’ve heard how you’ve been stirring up trouble in the woods. Now don’t come around here with any of your tales.”

Bumper was more nettled than ever at this reply, but still he controlled himself. “You’d better listen to me, Sleepy,” he said. “It’s true that Loup the Lynx is hunting in these woods, and if he passed here he could see you easily. Why not find a good hiding place if you must sleep outdoors?”

“Because I prefer this warm place in the sun. Now go on and leave me alone.”

And Bumper hopped along, feeling that his offer of kindness was not wanted. He hopped for some distance until suddenly he heard a noise in the tree overhead. He stopped and glanced up.

There was Loup the Lynx crouched in the tree, looking for some small animal he could pounce upon. Bumper was concealed from view by the bushes, and unless Loup saw him he was safe. It would be an easy matter to hide there until Loup passed on.

But as he crouched he thought of Sleepy a short distance away. If Loup hunted in his direction he would surely see him, and that would be the last of Sleepy. Now the desire to hide, and save his own skin, made him crouch still lower in the bushes.

“It’s none of my affair,” he said to himself. “I warned Sleepy, and he wouldn’t listen to me. I don’t need to do anything more.”

Of course, Bumper was right in a way, and he couldn’t be blamed for thinking of his own skin first; but all the time his conscience kept troubling him. What if Loup should spring upon Sleepy and kill him! How would he feel! He would never feel that he had done all of his duty.

“No,” he said finally, “I can’t hide here and let Sleepy be caught. I must warn him once more.”

Having made this decision, he crept out of his hiding place, and keeping the trees and bushes between him and the Loup, he made his way slowly back to where Sleepy was sunning himself.

“Sleepy,” he called softly when he got under the tree. “Sleepy, wake up!”

Sleepy the Opossum opened his eyes again, and seeing who it was calling him they snapped with anger.

“I wish you’d mind your business, Bumper!” he said in a loud, disagreeable voice. “If you wake me up again I’ll come down and bite you. Now get out!”

“But, Sleepy, you must hide. Loup the Lynx is coming. I saw him only a short distance away, and he’s coming in this direction.”

“Then why don’t you run and hide? Loup is as fond of rabbits as of opossums. If he was coming you’d be the first one to run and hide. No, you can’t make me believe any such story.”

“But on my word of honor, Sleepy, he’s coming,” protested Bumper.

“Let him come then! Now I’m--”

Sleepy didn’t finish his sentence. There was a snap of a twig nearby, and Bumper whispered:

“Run! Run! He’s here! If you wait another minute you’re lost!”

Sleepy was suddenly wide awake. He was suspicious of that snapping twig. He started down the tree for his hole where he would be safe. Half way there he caught sight of a pair of yellow eyes watching him. Then with a scream Loup the Lynx sprang for him, covering the distance between the two trees in one mighty jump. He landed plump on the limb where Sleepy had been sleeping.

But Bumper’s timely warning had been of use. Sleepy was on the next limb, and before Loup could spring again the Opossum slipped into his hole with a squeak of fear. Loup sprang at him with a snarl of rage and anger, for he had missed him by merely an inch.

During all this time, Bumper had looked around for his own safety. Loup had not spied him, and he kept well under the green leaves of the bushes. Then just as Loup made the final spring for Sleepy, the white rabbit slipped under a big log where he could not be seen.

He lay there panting and palpitating with fear. Would Loup come sniffing around and discover him? Or would he finally leave the place to hunt elsewhere? It was a terrible moment of uncertainty.

But luck was with him. Loup, never suspecting the presence of a rabbit below, finally leaped to a higher branch of the tree, and looked around. This was his favorite method of spying out any helpless animal below. Then he jumped to the next tree, and so made his way to another part of the woods.

Bumper waited a long time before he crept from his hiding place to renew his trip. When he finally did so all was quiet in the woods. But just as he hopped away a voice from the hole in the tree called to him.

“You saved my life, Bumper,” Sleepy said, peeking his head out. “I’m sorry I spoke so crossly to you. Won’t you forgive me?”

“Certainly, Sleepy,” replied Bumper. “And I’m mighty glad Loup wasn’t a minute sooner. Good-bye!”

Hopping away this time, he felt much better than before. He had done a good service to Sleepy, and won his friendship for all time. Next he had a chance to help Browny the Muskrat in a very peculiar way, which will be the subject of the following story.

STORY II

BROWNY THE MUSKRAT

One day Browny the Muskrat had burrowed so deep into the ground back of the river that his tunnel had caved into the rabbit burrow of Rolly Polly, and if it had not been for the quick work of Rolly Polly some of his children would have been drowned. The water from the river poured in right after Browny and the burrow was quickly flooded.

Now Rolly Polly had never forgiven Browny for that accident, the more so because Browny had laughed at the plight of the rabbits instead of apologizing. Of course, it was an accident, but Browny couldn’t understand why rabbits objected to a little water. So far as he was concerned, he preferred to swim around in underground tunnels filled with water than crawling through dry ones.

So there had always been ill feeling between the rabbits and Browny the Muskrat. It was one of those little quarrels between friends that lasts a long time, and often ends in trouble. It was such a senseless quarrel, too! Browny hadn’t intended it, and he should have said so. Rolly Polly may have suspected it was an accident, but as Browny didn’t apologize he was angry, and wouldn’t speak to any of the Muskrats again.

Bumper knew of this ancient quarrel, but as he had been busy with other things he hadn’t paid much attention to it. He had never spoken to Browny or any of his people. It wasn’t the proper thing to do, you know.

One day Bumper was eating grass near the marshy end of the river, where the big cattails and rushes grow tall and slender, when he saw Browny sitting on a bog watching him. He had just emerged from the water, and was all wet and dripping. Bumper continued eating grass without paying any attention to him.

“What are you doing here, Bumper?” Browny called to him after a while. “This isn’t your feeding ground. This marsh belongs to my family.”

Bumper stopped nibbling and looked at Browny in astonishment. “I didn’t know that the marsh belonged to any one in particular,” he replied.

“Well, it does, and now you know it,” answered Browny in an unfriendly voice. “Now get out of here!”

The tone of the voice as much as the command irritated Bumper, and a sharp reply sprang to his lips; but he checked it. He wasn’t going to offend by angry words.

“All right, Browny, if you say so, I’ll go,” he answered. Then, as an after thought, he added very politely: “And I’m sorry if I’ve trespassed upon your place. I won’t do it again.”

Browny was so surprised by this apology that he sat there a moment in silence and stared at the White Rabbit. Never before had a rabbit apologized to him. Indeed, whenever words passed between them, they were harsh and unfriendly. Then, instead of accepting the apology in a friendly spirit, he laughed, and said:

“Oh! Ho! You’re getting very polite all of a sudden, Bumper! Well, you can’t make friends with me that way. I don’t take any stock in soft words. Actions count with me more than polite words. No, I don’t think you will do it again. If you do you know what will happen to you!”

Bumper withdrew before the angry retort that rose to his lips could escape. He was very indignant. Browny was an ungrateful fellow. Well, he’d have nothing more to do with him or any of his tribe. Some day he might find a chance to get even with him. No, that would never do! He had decided to make friends and not enemies. He would forget it, but--

Suddenly he hopped about a foot in the air, so quickly that his sentence was never finished. What was it in the marshy ground at his feet? He had touched something hard and cold that jangled when he tripped against it. For a moment he stood ready to fly, but on second thought he decided he would investigate, for the thing, whatever it was, hadn’t moved. It still lay coiled up in the grass.

Bumper approached it carefully and smelt of it, and then laughed at his fright. It was a long chain, which for a moment had seemed to him like Killer the Snake coiled up in the grass. One end was fastened to a stake, and the other--

Horror of Horrors! It was attached to a trap, a steel spring trap, concealed right in the mouth of Browny’s hole. Some one had set the trap there to catch Browny or one of his family. Forgetting all his anger, Bumper ran back, and shouted.

“Browny! Browny!” he cried. “I’ve found something!”

“Well, leave it where it is,” replied Browny, stroking his whiskers. “Findings aren’t keepings around here.”

“But it’s a trap, Browny,” added Bumper. “I thought you’d want to know.”

“Oh, traps don’t bother me. The Hunters have been setting them for me as long as I can remember. But I’m too shrewd for them. They can’t catch me.”

“But this one is--”

“Oh, go on!” Browny interrupted. “I ordered you off my place once. Must I do it again?”

Bumper made no reply. He had done all that he could in warning Browny of the danger. Now the risk was his. He wouldn’t put himself out again to help a Muskrat.

But once again that little conscience of his bothered him. After he had hopped away in the woods, he stopped to nibble at some young buds. “What if Browny was caught in the steel trap?” he asked himself. “It would be terrible! He would either starve to death or be killed. Oh, I wish he’d listened to me!”

But he kept right on eating. It wasn’t any of his concern. But curiously enough he ate toward the marsh, and not away from it, until once more he stood on the very edge. He seemed surprised at this, but after all he knew all the time he was eating toward it.

He looked around. Browny was no longer in sight. Perhaps he had gone into the water again. Bumper sat there and listened, with his neck stretched up to look over the tall grasses.

Then suddenly a muffled squeaking reached his ears. Where did it come from, and who was making it? He looked all around him in vain, and then he thought of the trap.

He hopped through the reeds and rushes until he came to it. Yes, there was the long chain, and the stake, but there was something at the other end, for the chain kept twitching and pulling. And out of Browny’s hole came a faint, muffled cry.

“Help! Help! Oh, won’t somebody help me?”

“What’s the matter, Browny?” Bumper asked.

“My tail’s caught in the trap, and I can’t get out or in. I’m held fast in the hole. Oh, I’ll die here if somebody doesn’t help me before the Hunters come.”

“Wait a minute!” shouted Bumper. “I think I can get you out.”

Seizing the chain with his teeth, he threw himself back on his haunches, and began pulling with all his might. It was a mighty tug of war, for besides pulling the chain and steel trap out of the hole he had to pull Browny, too. He pulled and pulled, slipping in the mud, and getting all covered with it until he was no longer white. But the chain was coming, and so was the trap.

Suddenly it popped out, and right after it came Browny. The teeth of the trap had caught the tip of his tail. With the last jerk this slipped out of the trap, and Browny was free. He switched his long tail, and looked at it, but as he hadn’t lost any of it he was greatly relieved. Then he turned to the rabbit.

“Bumper,” he said, “that was a fine thing to do after the way I insulted you. If you can forgive me I’m always going to be your friend. You really saved my life, for the Hunters will soon be here.”

“That’s all right, Browny,” was the reply. “I want to be your friend.”

In the next story you will hear of how Bumper made friends with Billy the Mink.

STORY III

BILLY THE MINK

Billy the Mink was a cousin to Gray Back the Weasel, but being much larger and more ferocious when attacked he was more to be feared. In addition to this he could swim like a duck and dive like a stone. In fact, he preferred the water to the dry land, and was very proud of his fur coat. Sometimes he would sit on the bank of the river in the sun just to admire the beautiful, glossy fur that nature had given him. With the sun sparkling on it when wet or dry, it certainly was something to admire and envy.

Billy the Mink, unlike his namesake Billy the Porcupine, had the bad habit of sometimes raiding rabbit burrows for food, and if there were young bunnies in the nest he made away with some of them in spite of the protests of their fond parents. This habit had caused him to be feared and hated by the rabbits, which was a very natural thing.

Roaming through the woods one day shortly after his adventure with Browny the Muskrat, Bumper discovered Billy the Mink sunning himself near his home. He really didn’t want anything to do with Billy on account of his bad habits, and he was going to pass him without a word; but Billy caught sight of Bumper, and was suddenly envious of the beautiful fur of the white rabbit.

“I never saw a white rabbit before,” he hailed. “Come nearer and let me see your beautiful fur.”

Bumper wished to be polite and hopped closer.

“It really is white,” Billy added, admiring the fur. “I suppose you’re mighty proud of it.”

“I’m very fond of it, and glad I have it,” replied Bumper modestly. “Yes,” honestly, “I’m proud of it. I don’t think there’s any harm in saying that. We have a right to be proud of the dress nature gave us--a little proud, I mean, but not too much as some people are.”

Billy sneered, for he took this as a hint at his own well-known pride. “I suppose you mean by that I’m too proud,” he said.

“I wasn’t thinking of any one in particular,” replied Bumper. “I wouldn’t be so impolite as that.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t! You’re very modest and good today. Well, I know you referred to me.”

Bumper wished to end the conversation, and started to hop away, but Billy suddenly jumped to his feet.

“You’re so proud of your white coat that I’m going to soil it for you,” he exclaimed.

Before Bumper realized what he intended to do, Billy began pelting him with mud, which he dug up with his hind legs. It spattered all over Bumper, and some of it went in his eyes so that he couldn’t see which way to run. This was great fun to Billy, and he set up a shout of laughter.

“Now you’re as spotted as Mr. Turtle and nearly as black. Ho! Ho! What a sight!”

Even this humiliation of Bumper didn’t satisfy him. He wanted to roll him in the mud, and quick as a wink he leaped for him and caught him by the back. Then before Bumper could run away he had him down in the soft mud, which clung to him and turned his beautiful white fur a nasty brown.

“Now look at yourself!” laughed Billy. “You’re about as homely looking as any rabbit in the woods.”

Billy had returned to the place where he had been sunning himself, and flung himself down to rest and laugh. Bumper stood twenty feet away spattered from head to foot with the mud. He was so upset by this unwarranted attack and humiliation that for a moment he could not speak. His one desire was to get even with Billy, and punish him.

Then as if in answer to his wish there came the opportunity. Gliding out of the bushes with stealthy tread, approaching Billy from behind was Sneaky the Wolf. In their struggle neither one had noticed his approach. He had crept almost upon them before Bumper happened to see him.

Sneaky was after Billy the Mink, for he was much the nearest, and was larger and fatter than Bumper. He offered such a tempting dinner that Sneaky was all atremble, crouching for the spring.

Bumper was perfectly safe for two reasons. One was that Sneaky was thinking only of Billy and ignoring Bumper, and another was the distance was too great for Sneaky to reach the white rabbit in a single bound. It seemed like a just punishment for his rough joke in spattering Bumper with the mud. In another minute Sneaky would have him in his jaws, and Billy would never play another joke or raid a rabbit’s burrow.

“He who laughs last laughs the longest,” Bumper said to himself, smiling.

Then there came a sudden change over him. He seemed to see Billy all torn and bloody, and heard his pitiful squeals as Sneaky killed him. Oh, that was too severe a punishment for playing a rough joke! No, he couldn’t stand by in silence and see Billy killed even to satisfy a desire for revenge.

“Billy!” he called suddenly. “Billy, dive in the water! Don’t look around! Sneaky’s behind you! Dive! Dive!”

Billy had a horror of Sneaky the Wolf, and the very mention of his name sent the shivers through him. He didn’t wait to ask questions, not even to turn and look. He took a flying dive for the water just as Sneaky leaped for him.

Billy plunged into the water not a second too soon. It had hardly closed over him before Sneaky was there, snapping and snarling. Then finding that his victim had escaped him, for Sneaky was no diver or swimmer, he turned angrily upon Bumper to punish him for giving the warning.

But Bumper had taken advantage of the interval to escape. When Sneaky sprang to where he had been standing there was no rabbit in sight. Doubly angry at finding both of his victims gone, Sneaky snarled and snapped his teeth, trotting up and down the edge of the river, watching for the return of Billy or Bumper.

But they were wise enough to remain out of sight. Sneaky waited a long time, and then hid in the bushes and waited longer. But nothing happened. Then disgusted, and still very angry, he finally trotted away in the woods.

He hadn’t been gone long before a head popped out of a hole, and Bumper, with the mud all dried and caked on his fur, crawled out. He watched and listened to make sure he was alone, and then hopped to the bank of the stream.

“Oh, dear,” he said, “how will I ever get this mud off of me? It’s all dried on!”