Part 12

“No, sir!” answered the cruel hawk. “I’m going to take you home to my wife,” and up he flew in the air. But, goodness me! He soon found out what a heavy thing a turtle is. Pretty soon the old hawk’s wings grew tired. Oh, very weary, indeed.

“I must rest,” he said to himself, turning toward an old dead tree near the edge of the Shady Forest.

“Let me go! Let me go!” again and again begged Teddy Turtle.

“Be still, will you?” answered the old robber bird, doing his best to keep his balance on the limb of the dead tree and at the same time hold on to the wiggly jiggly little turtle.

“No, I won’t,” answered Teddy Turtle, with another wiggle and a jiggle, and maybe a wiggle-jiggle-jiggle after that.

But, try as he might, he couldn’t wiggle loose from the bad hawk’s claws. Pretty soon the old bird flew off again with the little turtle.

“Wiggle, jiggle all you can. Wiggle like a wrestling man. Keep on wiggling till you’re free, Wiggle like a jumping flea,”

shouted Billy Breeze.

“Stop talking to Teddy Turtle,” screamed Hungry Hawk, by this time out of breath and nearly ready to drop.

“Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle!” again shouted Billy Breeze.

Then Teddy Turtle wiggled and jiggled and jiggled and wiggled until all of a sudden, just like that, Hungry Hawk couldn’t hold him a minute longer. Down dropped the little turtle right into the Bubbling Brook and off went Hungry Hawk to rest his weary wings in a near-by tree.

“Look out for him when he’s rested,” whispered Billy Breeze.

“I’ll swim away,” answered Teddy Turtle, and down the stream he went as fast as he could go. Pretty soon he came to a nice deep place under a shelving bank. Here he hid for a long time. And maybe he would be hiding there yet if Billy Breeze hadn’t been on the lookout.

“The old hawk has flown away,” he whispered, dancing over the tall water grass that stood barefoot in the cool water.

“Are you sure?” asked the little turtle, anxiously. “I don’t want to be caught again. Dear me, but my neck is scratched. Hungry Hawk has sharp claws.”

“Oh, yes, he’s gone. He’s flown away. Maybe he’s home by this time,” answered Billy Breeze.

Teddy Turtle waited a few minutes longer, then swam boldly down the Bubbling Brook towards the Shady Forest. “Dear me, it’s a long way to Busy Beaver’s home, but I’ll be safe there, I know.”

BUNNY TALE 25

LUCKYMOBILING

Heigh ho, how the winds blow This cool November day. The leaves are turning yellow and red And the clouds are scurrying overhead Like little ships out on the bay.

“That’s a beautiful poem,” thought Uncle Lucky, looking up from his morning paper as Reddy Comb, the rooster newsboy, strutted away.

Just then Little Jack Rabbit came hopping up the path.

“Let’s make a call on somebody,” suddenly suggested the old gentleman bunny.

“All right, but not on Grandmother Magpie,” answered the bunny boy, climbing into the Luckymobile.

“No, indeed,” replied kind Uncle Lucky. “She’s too meddlesome.”

Quickly turning down a road leading away from the Shady Forest, in which the old lady magpie had her home, they soon came to a little log hut in a cornfield.

“I wonder who lives there,” exclaimed the old gentleman rabbit. “I never saw that little house before,” and stopping the Luckymobile, he hopped over to the little log hut to knock on the door. The next moment it was opened by their friend, the Scarecrow.

“Well, well, well,” he cried. “I’m glad to see you. Come in and sit down.”

“I’ll be back in a minute,” shouted Uncle Lucky to his bunny nephew.

But imagine the old gentleman rabbit’s surprise to find Turkey Tim in the little log hut.

“What, you here!” exclaimed Uncle Lucky. All of a sudden poor Turkey Tim began to cry.

“He’s afraid of Thanksgiving,” explained the Scarecrow. “But I’ll hide him here till Spring.”

“Dear, oh, dear!” gasped astonished Uncle Lucky. “I’m glad you’re so kind. Dearest me, I’m flustered! I didn’t know you lived here.”

“To be sure I do now that summer time is over,” answered the Scarecrow. “You don’t think I’d stay out in the cornfield all winter?”

“Yes, what would be the use?” agreed Uncle Lucky. “Besides, you might catch your death of cold.”

“That’s just it,” answered the Scarecrow.

“My clothes are very old and worn And one of the pockets badly torn. The wind would blow through a hole in my coat And give me a terrible frog in my throat.”

“Come with us,” invited Uncle Lucky. “It’s a beautiful day for a ride. Don’t you think so?”

With a happy smile, the Scarecrow took down his old hat from the wooden peg behind the door and, pinning his coat around him, for the buttons were all gone, you know, told Turkey Tim he’d be back shortly.

As soon as dear Uncle Lucky had honked the horn three times and a half, away they went down to the Three-in-One Cent Store to buy a toothbrush. You see, the Scarecrow had forgotten all about it when moving into the little log hut in the middle of the cornfield.

“And now where shall we go?” asked Uncle Lucky, as the Scarecrow once more seated himself in the Luckymobile, for it hadn’t taken him nearly as long to buy the toothbrush as it had his last Liberty Bond!

“Let’s call on the Tailor Bird. We ought to get measured for our winter overcoats.” So they turned down a road leading to Birdville, a pretty little town not far away. Well, by and by, after a mile and a laugh and a smile, they came to the Tailor Bird’s Shop on the corner of Twitter Avenue and Chirp Street. There on a little bench in front of the store, sat the Tailor Bird himself, although it was the first of November.

No sooner did this in-dus-tri-ous bird see the two little rabbits in the Luckymobile than he began to sing:

“Stitch, stitch, stitch away, I’m busy sewing all the day I hardly have a chance to sing. My needle uses up the string So fast I haven’t time to play. Why, I can’t even stop to say, ‘Good Morning, it’s a pleasant day!’”

And the Tailor Bird made his needle go so fast that Uncle Lucky couldn’t tell on whose overcoat the old bird was sewing buttons.

“I guess I’ll get along with my old one,” said the old gentleman rabbit, and, waving good-by to the Tailor Bird, he soon reached Cottontail Square, where they found a big crowd gathered around the statues of Uncle Sam and Aunt Columbia.

“What’s all this about?” asked the old gentleman, curiously.

“I’ll enquire,” answered the Scarecrow, standing up on the rear seat. Just then a bunny man, carrying in his arms a little boy rabbit, pushed his way out.

“Dear, dear! is he hurt?” anxiously asked dear, kind Uncle Lucky.

“No, no!” shouted back the bunny man. “It’s Tinkle Timmy, the fairy bunny child. He’s only frightened. I’m taking him back to the Fairy Glen.”

“You have a kind heart,” said Uncle Lucky. “Come around to the bank to-morrow. Maybe we need a porter.”

Then away drove the old gentleman bunny. Pretty soon they came to the Farmyard.

“Bow, wow!” barked Old Sic’em, the farmer’s dog.

“Come here, I want to whisper in your ear,” said the old gentleman rabbit, leaning out of the Luckymobile.

“Look out for Danny Fox to-night, He’s coming here when the moon is bright To steal a chicken for a stew, So catch him by his curlicue,”

he whispered to the old watch-dog as he stood on his tip toes.

“Where is his curlicue?” asked Old Sic’em.

“Oh, I mean his bushy tail,” laughed Uncle Lucky, “but as tail doesn’t always rime in poetry I said “cue” instead.”

“All right,” answered Old Sic’em. “I’ll be on the lookout,” and with a wag of his curlicue,—beg pardon, I mean his long thin tail, he said good-by. Then away went the Luckymobile so fast that it nearly ran over a man who mended old tin pails, wash boilers and maybe other things.

“Helloa, there!” shouted Uncle Lucky, “can you mend a hole in my woolen sock?”

“Don’t you poke fun at me,” answered the tin man with a dreadful angry look, “rabbits don’t wear stockings!” But when Uncle Lucky handed him a ten carrot gold piece the tin man began to smile.

Pretty soon the old gentleman bunny spied a great tremendous pumpkin in a cornfield.

“Whoa!” exclaimed Uncle Lucky to the Luckymobile, which stopped just like that, only maybe a little quicker. “Let’s take the pumpkin home with us.” But, dear me! how disappointed he was after hopping over the fence. The pumpkin was so heavy that dear Uncle Lucky couldn’t lift it to save his whiskers. Neither could Little Jack Rabbit.

“What shall we do?” asked the little bunny.

All of a sudden the Old Scarecrow, who had been sound asleep all this time, woke up.

“Let me help you,” he said and, jumping out, lifted the pumpkin up in his arms into the Luckymobile without even scratching the shell.

As soon as the Scarecrow was seated, away they went and pretty soon, not so very far, nor so very long, they came to a cross road. Right there stood a big sign post on which was written:

“To Rabbitville, 1 mile To Lettuce Hills, 2 miles To Turnip City, 3 miles.”

“Gracious me!” cried Little Jack Rabbit. “I don’t know where I’d rather go.”

“I’ll tell you,” said Professor Crow, just then flying by with his little Wisdom Book in his left claw.

“Now listen to me For a minute or three,”

and turning to page one, oh, oh! he read aloud:

“Never hurry, never worry, Never rush and never scurry. Start in time and you’ll get there; So the tortoise beat the hare.”

“Where did you get your wonderful little Wisdom Book?” asked Uncle Lucky, taking off his goggles and scratching his left ear with his right hind foot.

“That’s my secret,” answered the old black bird, with a smile, winking his little black eyes and curling his feathers with his beak.

“I wish I had a Wisdom Book,” went on the old gentleman rabbit. “It’s full of good things.”

“I’ll tell you something since you’re so fond of my little book. I’ve written in it all the good things I’ve heard. You see, when I first bought it at the Three-in-One Cent Store, it was only full of white pages, but now it’s full of wise things,” answered the old crow, glancing up over his spectacles. All of a sudden he took out his fountain pen and shouted: “Listen! I’ve just thought of something:

“Frogs from little Tadpoles grow!”

Then with a bang he closed his book and, snapping his bill, flapped his wings and flew away, but where he went I cannot say.

“Why didn’t we ask him which road to take?” sighed the Scarecrow, looking up at the sign-post. “I don’t know anybody in Lettuce Hill and what’s the use of going to Rabbitville when you two little rabbits are here and not there. I’m sure I don’t want to go to Turnip City. My wife’s mother now lives there and for me she doesn’t care.”

“All right,” laughed kind Uncle Lucky, “let’s go home—the best place of all,” and turning the Luckymobile to the right, after a while, and more than a mile, and maybe a smile, they met a funny Little Donkey with two baskets over his back, one on each side.

“The Rooster sings his cock-ado, The Old Cow sometimes gives a moo, The Big Brown Horse will answer neigh, But what does the Little Donkey say When he puts back his ears and gives a bray?”

“What does he say?” asked Uncle Lucky, making the Luckymobile trot by the side of the Little Donkey as nicely as you please.

“He says: ‘Look out for my heels!’” laughed the little long-eared animal, throwing out his hind legs to show how high he could kick. But, oh, dear me! He should have known better, for out rolled the carrots all over the road.

Out hopped dear Uncle Lucky, kind Little Jack Rabbit and the nice old Scarecrow to help him pick them up. As soon as the baskets were filled and fastened on straight, for they were all wiggly waggly, you know, the Little Donkey said:

“Next time I’ll think before I kick And look before I leap, And lock the stable door before I lay me down to sleep.”

“Come in with us,” said kind Uncle Lucky. “We’re going your way.”

Carefully climbing in, the Little Donkey set down the baskets of carrots. Pretty soon on reaching a little green barn he shouted:

“I live right here. Come, stay awhile. Although I live in a barn I have nice things. Besides, I own three Liberty Bonds and a cigar coupon. Oh, yes, I’m a patriotic donkey. My two brothers went to France with the U. S. Army,” and, pointing to a small iron safe in one corner, he added in a whisper, “That’s where I keep my money.”

“You can’t beat me,” said the Scarecrow. And would you believe it? He put his hand in his inside coat pocket and drew out three Liberty Bonds! Yes, sir, he did! “And I’m not going to sell them, either,” he added, pinning his overcoat carefully over his waistcoat.

“If you’ll wait a minute while I put the carrots in the pantry,” said the Little Donkey, “I’ll come back and make you some nice candy.”

At once the little rabbits and the Scarecrow sat down and waited until the Little Donkey returned with some maple sugar, a lemon lollypop and a chocolate caramel. Filling a saucepan with water, he soon had a wonderful candy boiling on the stove. After it was all done he put it down the well to cool, and when it was hard and nice he gave a piece to the little rabbits and another piece to the Scarecrow, who said it was much finer than any he had ever tasted from the Three-in-One Cent Store.

By and by Uncle Lucky, looking at his watch, said it was time to leave and, thanking the Little Donkey for a pleasant time, the old gentleman rabbit hopped into the Luckymobile.

“You can drop me off at the cornfield,” said the Scarecrow. “Turkey Tim must be lonesome by this time.”

And shortly after the two little rabbits were safe at home for the night.

BUNNY TALE 26

THE RACE

The Big Brown Bear, the Yellow Dog Tramp, and Sammy Skunk, Esq., of Sleepy Hollow, were playing pinochle in a little log cabin.

Just then who should come along in the Luckymobile but Mr. Lucky Lefthindfoot, the dear old gentleman bunny rabbit.

“Honk, honk!” went his horn and “Hello, hello!” he shouted, stopping all of a sudden, just like that, quick as a wink, right in front of the little log hut. “Who’ll be the next President?” and in he hopped to shake hands with his Shady Forest friends.

“Hope you’ll be,” answered all three with a smile, for everybody likes Uncle Lucky. Oh, my, yes!

“My, but you fellows look all mussed up,” exclaimed the old gentleman rabbit.

“We couldn’t look spick and span after the fight we’ve just had with Mr. Wicked Wolf and Danny Fox,” replied the Yellow Dog Tramp. “Of course my clothes are not of the latest style nor just pressed. But to wrestle with Danny Fox would make a dress suit look like a pair of overalls,—and maybe worse.”

“Come, jump into the Luckymobile,” said the old gentleman bunny, with a kind smile. “I’ll take you all for a ride.”

In climbed the Big Brown Bear and the Yellow Dog Tramp, but Sammy Skunk suddenly remembered he had an errand to do.

“I can’t go,” he apologized. “I must get a spool of cotton for Mrs. Skunk at the Three-in-One Cent Store.”

“Maybe I can drop you there,” suggested kind Uncle Lucky. But Sammy Skunk wouldn’t hear of it.

“No, no! Some other time,” he shouted, as he hurried off in the opposite direction.

“Well, where shall we go?” asked considerate Uncle Lucky, honking the horn before he put on his goggles. Then fastening his blue silk polkadot handkerchief over his old wedding stovepipe hat and under his chin and winding his gold watch and chain, he started up the Luckymobile, his two friends on the back seat smiling away as if they were going to the circus or a baseball game at Carrot City.

After a while and a bump and a smile and maybe a laugh or three, there came into view a big kangaroo and a fat old bumblebee.

Dear, dear! Why didn’t my typewriter put this pretty rhyme into verse. I guess it forgot I’m a poet!

“Stop, stop!” shouted the Kangaroo. “If you don’t I’ll give a hop and a jump and perhaps a skip or two and land myself right in the Luckymobile. I can jump much farther than you.”

“Yes, you have long hind legs,” smiled Uncle Lucky, re-flec-tive-ly, which means thinking hard while you speak. “You’re the largest hopper I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re a pretty good jumper yourself,” answered the Kangaroo, grinning at nice Uncle Lucky. “Let’s have a race. I’ll give you a handicap.”

“I don’t need one—I’ve my dear old wedding stovepipe hat,” answered the old gentleman rabbit, hopping out of the Luckymobile.

“Who’ll be the judge?” asked the Big Brown Bear.

“Not me,” said the Yellow Dog Tramp, although he should have said, “Not I.” But school is over and the teacher is away, so we’ll let it go this once.

“I’ll be the judge,” said the Old Fat Bumble Bee. “I’ll be Timekeeper, too, for I have a little gold watch.”

By this time the Kangaroo and dear Uncle Lucky were all ready for the race. The old gentleman bunny was twenty-two hops in front of the Kangaroo and the course was over to a big rock and back to the Luckymobile.

“You start them off,” said the Old Fat Bumble Bee, to the Yellow Dog Tramp.

“All right,” answered the obliging dog, commencing to count.

“One, two, three,—go!”

Away went dear Uncle Lucky across the meadow and after him the great long-legged Kangaroo. Just one of his jumps was equal to three and a half of the rabbit bunny man.

“Hurry up! Uncle Lucky!” shouted the Big Brown Bear.

“Catch him!” cried the Old Bumble Bee, who was the Kangaroo’s friend, although I forgot to mention it sooner.

“Go it!” shouted the Yellow Dog Tramp. “Go it, Uncle Lucky!”

And then the old gentleman bunny went faster than ever. I guess it was all the blue silk polkadot handkerchief could do to keep his old wedding stovepipe hat from falling off!

“Goodness me!” gasped Uncle Lucky, as he turned back from the big rock on his way home to the winning place, “that Kangaroo is gaining on me. I must hop a little faster and then some more.”

“My, but that old gentleman rabbit is pretty good yet,” thought the Kangaroo, touching the big rock and starting back after the old gentleman bunny sprinter.

“Come on! Come on! Uncle Lucky!” shouted the Big Brown Bear, jumping up and down on the front seat of the Luckymobile.

“Hurry up, hurry up!” barked the Yellow Dog Tramp. “Hurry up, Uncle Lucky!”

“Catch him!” cried the Old Bumble Bee to the long legged Kangaroo.

“Dearest me!” gasped poor Uncle Lucky, “I’m most in!”

Just then, and it was mighty lucky, too, as you’ll soon see, the blue silk polkadot handkerchief slipped off his old wedding stovepipe, and before the old gentleman bunny could save it that precious hat had fallen to the ground.

“Don’t stop!” shouted the Big Brown Bear. And Uncle Lucky didn’t. Neither did the long-legged Kangaroo. He tried hard not to step into the stovepipe hat, but in slipped his right foot and over he went, tripperty trip, flat on the meadow grass, and the next minute the old gentleman bunny had touched the Luckymobile and won the race.

“Hip, hurrah!” barked the Yellow Dog Tramp.

“Three cheers!” shouted the Big Brown Bear, but Uncle Lucky didn’t say anything. He didn’t care nearly so much about winning as he did to find out whether his dear old wedding stovepipe hat were injured. Hopping quickly back to the Kangaroo, who was just struggling to his feet, the old gentleman rabbit exclaimed:

“Oh, please be careful of my hat And gently pull it off. Just hold your breath and close your eyes And don’t you dare to cough.”

“Don’t worry,” answered the Kangaroo, hopping about on one foot while he tugged at the old stovepipe hat. “I’ll not cough, but I may do something else,” and he began to look dreadfully cross. “This hat is so tight it makes my pinky ache.”

“Sit down, sit down!” advised Uncle Lucky. “The first thing you know you’ll lose your balance and that will be the end of my dear old wedding stovepipe hat. Oh, please sit down.”

But, oh, dear me! The Kangaroo suddenly stubbed his toe on a buttercup, and down he went, head over heels, on the meadow.

“Oh, dear, oh, dear, what shall I do If my dear old hat is broken! Since ’63 it’s been to me A loving memory token,”

cried the old gentleman rabbit, hopping over to the sprawling Kangaroo.

“There, take your old hat,” he grumbled, pulling out his foot with a desperate tug, “I lost the race on account of it and my temper, too. Take it away before I lose my money.”

The old gentleman bunny lost no time in placing it on his head and with a thank you and hope I meet you soon again, he hopped into his Luckymobile and drove away with his two good friends, the Big Brown Bear and the Yellow Dog Tramp.

BUNNY TALE 27

THE OLD BROWN HORSE

One morning, oh, so early, When the dew shone on the grass And the Mill Pond lay so quiet It seemed a looking glass,

Little Jack Rabbit hopped up the Winding Trail in the Shady Forest to the Forest Pool, in which Busy Beaver had a nice bungalow.

Of course this little hairy swimmer was at home. Yes, indeed. There he sat on the bank, looking here and looking there, just as if he hadn’t a single care.

“Hello!” shouted the little bunny boy rabbit.

“Well, I’m glad to see you,” answered Busy Beaver. “It’s a long time since you’ve made a call.”

“So it is,” replied the little rabbit, “but you’re not the only busy person in the world.”

“I’m not busy just now. You see, I work on my new building at night,” and Busy Beaver flapped the water with his long flat tail.

“Where are the other members of the family?” asked the polite little rabbit. You see, not having made a call for so long a time he had forgotten all their names.

“Oh, they’re cutting down some small trees,” replied Busy Beaver. “As we live on land and in the water, we must have two houses. Then, too, as the children grow up we need more, which keeps us busy all the time.”

“Well, remember me to everybody,” said the little bunny boy rabbit, and away he hopped, lipperty lip, clipperty clip until all of a sudden, just like that, whom should he see but the Farmer’s Boy with a gun over his shoulder.

“Dear, dear!” thought the little rabbit. “Is he going to shoot Busy Beaver, I wonder. His nice fur coat would make a warm pair of gloves for the cold weather. I guess I’ll warn Busy Beaver.”

So back hopped this kind-hearted little bunny, clipperty clip, lipperty lip, looking over his shoulder now and then and sometimes oftener to see if the Farmer’s Boy was following him.

“What are you back for?” asked Busy Beaver, as all out of breath Little Jack Rabbit stopped again at the Shady Forest Pool.

“S-s-sh!” whispered the little bunny. “The Farmer’s Boy is out with his gun. I just saw him up the Shady Forest Trail. That’s why I hopped back.”

“Very kind of you,” answered the little beaver. “Guess I’ll take to the water. I’ve got a nice hiding place not far from here. Good-by,” and away he swam in his nice chestnut brown fur coat, leaving the boy bunny rabbit all alone. Dear me! I hope the Farmer’s Boy doesn’t shoot him before I get him safely away, too.

“What was that?” thought the Farmer’s Boy as Little Jack Rabbit hopped into a hollow stump near by. “What was that?” repeated the curious boy, tiptoeing over to the Shady Forest Pool. I guess he had heard the slap of the little beaver’s long flat tail as he dived down under the water to reach his front door.

Pretty soon the Farmer’s Boy turned away and walked up to the hollow stump. He was just going to thrust in his arm when he heard a great splashing in the Shady Forest Pool. My goodness, how Busy Beaver was flapping the water with his big flat tail, sending the spray flying in all directions.