Part 7

“Down at the Post Office,” answered his pretty mother. “He said for you to stay near the Old Bramble Patch until he got back.”

“All right,” answered the good little bunny. “May I go now, mother dear?”

“Have you polished the front doorknob and fed the canary and filled the woodbox?” she asked, with a smile. I guess she knew the little rabbit had forgotten all about his daily morning duties.

“Dear, dear, I forgot,” cried the little bunny and, picking up the box of brass polish and a rag, he set to work on the doorknob. Pretty soon it looked like a golden ball under the bright beams of Mr. Merry Sun. Perhaps he thought he’d help the little rabbit. Who knows!

Next the bunny boy fed the pretty canary in her little gold cage, which hung in the kitchen during the winter, but when the days grew warm and bright, on the front porch. After her tiny cup was filled with birdseed the little bunny hopped out to the woodpile.

“Hello, there,” said the Old Red Rooster, whom Uncle Lucky had sent over to spade the kitchen garden and plant the vegetables, “how’s Little Jack Rabbit this morning?”

“Oh, I’m all right,” answered the little bunny, picking up the hoe which the old fowl had left by the flower-bed. “I’m all right and I’m all glad and I’m fond of my mother and my dad.”

“Whoa, there, Mr. Rabbit Poet!” cried the Old Red Rooster. “How do you get that way?”

“I’ve been reading a poetry book,” answered the little bunny, handing a rose to Lady Love, who at that moment hopped out to the garden. Pretty soon she went back in the kitchen. It’s mighty lucky that she did, for just then, all of a sudden, something happened. And it would have been quite dreadful if the Old Red Rooster hadn’t given a timely warning. Yes, sir, if, right then he hadn’t hollered “Look out!” there would be little use in my putting it in now.

The moment the little bunny heard the warning he hopped through the window, quick as a wink. And it was mighty lucky that he did, for right there under the trees stood Danny Fox.

“Good morning,” he said, with a smile. But it didn’t look like a smile to Little Jack Rabbit. Oh, dear, no! It looked like a great big white-toothed grin. That’s what it did, and I guess the little bunny was right.

“I think it’s a bad morning,” replied Little Jack Rabbit. “You’ve changed everything.”

“Don’t say that,” whined Danny Fox. “What makes you so unfriendly?”

“Never you mind, you old robber,” shouted the Old Red Rooster from the top of the woodshed, on which he had taken refuge.

“Oh, you’re around,” snarled Danny Fox. “I thought you were working for Uncle Lucky Lefthindfoot, the old gentleman rabbit.”

“Well, you’ve got another think,” replied the Old Red Rooster, “and if you don’t get out of here I’ll send a wireless message to the Policeman Dog to put you in jail.”

“Yes, you will,” sneered the old fox. “How are you going to send a message, I’d like to know.”

“Ha, ha!” laughed the Old Red Rooster, with a jump and a big flap of his wings. And, would you believe it! he flew from the woodshed right over to the roof of the cowshed next the Little Red Barn! Then up he jumped to the little window overhead. That’s what he did, the wise old fowl.

“I wonder what he’s going to do?” thought Danny Fox, beginning to grow uneasy. “I wonder what he’s up to?” and again the old fox looked here and there, fearing some trick was to be sprung upon him.

“Cock-a-doodle do!” all of a sudden shouted the Old Red Rooster.

“What do you want?” asked Lady Love, looking out of the attic window. But on seeing Danny Fox she almost fainted.

“Don’t worry, mother,” cried Little Jack Rabbit. “I’m safe in the kitchen. I won’t hop out till Danny Fox goes home.”

“Ha, ha!” laughed that old robber, “maybe I’ll wait here till the 4th of July.”

“Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” cried the little rabbit’s mother, anxiously, “please go away, Danny Fox.”

“No, siree!” answered that wicked animal. “I shall stay right here for a year and a day, and maybe I’ll never go away.”

Now wasn’t that a dreadful thing to hear? Well, I guess it was. But just you wait a minute. I think the Old Red Rooster up in the loft of the Little Red Barn will do something, and do it mighty quick, let me tell you.

“Hello, hello!” he shouted, all of a sudden, just like that, from the tiny window of the Little Red Barn.

“I’m listening,” answered Lady Love from the attic.

“I hear you,” called out Little Jack Rabbit from the kitchen. But Danny Fox didn’t say a word.

“Something’s going to happen in a minute,” shouted the Old Red Rooster. “Yes, sireebus, something’s going to happen!”

“I wonder what?” thought Danny Fox, looking this way and that way and every other way. But he saw nothing, except the grass waving in the Sunny Meadow and the treetops bending in the Shady Forest.

Pretty soon he looked up at Lady Love, then at the Old Red Rooster. What were they doing? And why was the Old Red Rooster waving his pocket handkerchief? And why was Lady Love nodding her head?

“Dear, dear!” thought the old fox, “are they crazy?”

Just then, all of a sudden, just like that, quicker than bills on the first of the month, over the Old Rail Fence jumped the Policeman Dog, the Yellow Dog Tramp, the Stagecoach Dog Driver, the Billy Goat Ferryman, the Big Brown Bear and dear Uncle Lucky, the old gentleman rabbit.

“O-o-o-o!” whined Danny Fox, looking for a way to escape. By the woodpile stood the Policeman Dog, a few feet away the Yellow Dog Tramp, over by the Little Red Barn the Stagecoach Dog; by the kitchen door the Billy Goat Ferryman, at the Old Rail Fence the Big Brown Bear and a few hops away, dear Uncle Lucky.

“O-o-o-o,” again whined Danny Fox. He felt something was going to happen to him. He knew the Policeman Dog, the Yellow Dog Tramp, the Stagecoach Dog Driver, the Billy Goat Ferryman, the Big Brown Bear and dear Uncle Lucky, the old gentleman bunny, hadn’t jumped over the Old Rail Fence for fun, but he didn’t know that the Old Red Rooster had sent for them on the radio.

Yes, siree, something was, and is, going to happen to that dreadful fox, for, quick as a wink, they all closed in on him and before he could say a word or two or three, but no more, the Policeman Dog snapped a pair of handcuffs over his front paws.

“Now, old Danny Fox, you’ll go To jail in just a minute, And there you’ll stay for many a day Securely locked up in it,”

sang the Policeman Dog, swinging his club up and down just like the leader of the orchestra in “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”

“I hope you’ll keep him there for even longer,” said the old gentleman bunny. “He’s always after Little Jack Rabbit and me. Just the other day he nearly caught up to the Luckymobile. If he had, he would have bitten the tires.”

“He’s forever hanging around the ferryslip, waiting for a chance to grab Grandmother Goose on her way home,” said the Billy Goat Ferryman. “I never cross the river in my ferryboat but what I see him sneaking along the shore.”

“He’s always trying to hold-up my stagecoach and rob the passengers,” cried the Old Dog Driver, taking his pipe out of his mouth. “Only last week a little pig passenger nearly died of fright when he pointed his pistol at her.”

“He’s a bad lot,” said the Yellow Dog Tramp. “I often see him stealing chickens from the farmyards.”

“He’d better keep away from my Cozy Cave,” growled the Big Brown Bear. “If I ever catch him stealing lollypops I’ll break every bone in his body.”

“Do you hear what they say about you?” asked the Policeman Dog, giving Danny Fox a good shake.

“Please let me go,” begged the old fox, “I’ve two little boys at home who will miss Daddy Fox if he isn’t home for supper.”

“Let him go,” begged the tender-hearted little bunny, “Bushytail and Slyboots will miss him so. They think he’s a lovely father.”

“Well, what do you say?” asked the Policeman Dog, turning to Uncle Lucky.

“Oh, let me go home to my den in the rocks, Bushytail will be watching for me, And Slyboots will stand at the old kitchen door While Mrs. Fox puts on the tea.

The red table cloth will be spread nice and smooth, The platters, all shiny and white. Oh, what will they do with the nice oyster stew If Daddy Fox comes not to-night?”

cried Danny Fox, tears falling from his eyes, as the Policeman Dog waited for Uncle Lucky’s answer.

“Oh, pshaw,” cried dear kind Uncle Lucky, “let him go.”

“I say so, too,” said the Yellow Dog Tramp. “That song reminds me of one my dear old mother used to sing before I left the farm to become a hobo doggie.”

“Maybe from now on he’ll behave,” cried the Billy Goat Ferryman. “I have two little kids. I know how they’d feel if their daddy didn’t come home.”

“Give the old fox another chance,” said the Old Dog Stagecoach Driver. “I remember my two little bow-wows. We had a nice home in the country.”

“I feel the same as you fellows,” cried the Big Brown Bear. “My two little cubs waited every night for me to tell them a bedtime story. They’re now in the circus, but I always think of them as little fellows. Let the old fox go for the sake of his two little boys.”

“Do you hear what they all say?” asked the Policeman Dog.

“Yes,” whined Danny Fox, and away he ran as soon as the Policeman Dog took off the handcuffs.

“Perhaps he’ll behave for a while,” said the Old Red Rooster, flying down from the hayloft. “But it’s lucky for Little Jack Rabbit that I could call you all on the wireless. Maybe that isn’t a wonderful invention.”

“Come in and have some carrot cake and turnip tea,” begged Lady Love, hopping out on the kitchen porch.

Pretty soon as they all sat around the table having a fine feast, the Yellow Tramp Dog stood up on his hind legs and barked, oh, so softly:

“I’d go back to my boyhood day If I only knew the by-gone way. But I have changed since the Long Ago, With the summer wind and the winter snow, And my feet just miss the dear old lane Where the robin sings his sweet refrain, And the apple blossoms, white and pink, Fall in the nest of Bob-o-Link.”

Some day, dear boys and girls, I shall write a story about the Yellow Dog Tramp. He just sort of rubs his nose against my knee as I write these stories. Yes, he looks up at me with big brown eyes that seem to say:

“Tell the children to be kind to yellow dogs.”

Dear children, never, never sling A stone at any living thing. The little bird that swiftly flies Up in the country of the skies, The friendly tabby cat that purrs And humps that glossy back of hers, The patient horse that draws the plough, The ever-generous mooley cow, Are all kind friends to you and me, Created by God’s charity.

BUNNY TALE 14

UNCLE LUCKY’S DREAM

Oh, what shall I sing this lovely spring When all the sky’s aglow With the sun’s gold tint and the pure white glint Of clouds like drifts of snow.

“Well, well, well,” exclaimed dear Uncle Lucky with a sigh, laying down his book, “that is a beautiful poem.” Pushing his spectacles back on his forehead, he was just about to sigh again when the telephone rang, One, two, three! Jingle, jingle, jingle!

“Who’s that, I wonder?” he asked himself, taking up the receiver.

“Hello, hello! Who’s calling me?

“This is Rabbitville, one, two, three.”

“Mr. Grizzly Bear is talking,” answered a deep, growly voice.

“Well, I don’t care if he stops,” replied brave Uncle Lucky, “I don’t want to speak to him.”

“But he wants to talk to you!” answered the deep, growly voice.

“Dear Little Miss Mousie,” sighed Uncle Lucky, “why do disagreeable people call me on the ’phone? Why don’t they call up the Policeman Dog? Please lock the kitchen door.” And the poor old gentleman rabbit gave a great big sigh and, hanging up the receiver, hopped quickly around the house to lock every window, pulling down the shades and then stuffing up the fireplace with sofa cushions.

“Now I guess nobody’ll get in,” he said, seating himself by the pianola. All of a sudden it began to play;

“Oh, the Grizzly Bear is a dreadful beast, His claws are sharp and long, And he gives a tug and then a hug While he sings a grizzly song;

“‘Oh, I’m the beast with the terrible hug, G-r-r-r, g-r-r-r-r, G-R-R-R-R! I can break a stone and crack a bone And crumple a cracker jar!’”

“Goodness me!” shouted Uncle Lucky, hopping up. “It’s bad enough to have a Grizzly Bear call you on the ’phone, but to listen to a Grizzly Bear song on the pianola is too, too much,” and the dis-tract-ed old gentleman rabbit hopped upstairs to his bedroom and looked out of the window.

“Tooty fruiti!” shouted Old Barney Owl, just like that, so frightening poor Uncle Lucky that he closed the window with a bang and hopped into bed. But, dear me! again. No sooner had he pulled the coverlet up to his chin and tucked his long gray whiskers in, than a dreadful knocking shook the door and rattled the carpet tacks in the floor!

“Goodness gracious meebus!” whispered the old gentleman rabbit under his breath and under the crazyquilt over his head as he cuddled down tight in his old wooden bed.

Again some one knocked on the door so hard that the doorknob came off and fell in the yard.

“Who can that be? What shall I do? I’m afraid to open the door and I’m afraid not to. Which is the worst to do, for whatever I do, it will be that, all right, and all wrong!”

“Make believe there’s no one home, Stay in bed and do not roam On your tiptoe ’round the house; Keep as quiet as a mouse,”

whispered a little voice.

“Who gives me such good advice?” asked the old gentleman rabbit in a trembly whisper.

“Little Miss Mousie,” replied the tiny voice. “I crept out of my house and up the stairs to tell you to make believe you’re not at home.”

“You’re a good little friend,” answered Uncle Lucky.

“You’re a good big friend,” laughed Little Miss Mousie, only very low, of course. “You let me stay all winter in the woodbox by the warm stove. You never charge me any rent and never let me spend a cent, you give me lollypops to eat and satin slippers for my feet.”

“Do I really? I forgot all about the slippers, I declare,” cried the old gentleman rabbit, scratching his left hind ear with his right hind foot. “Maybe I’m growing old and full of forgetfulness,” and he sighed twice, and maybe three times more.

Just then the knocking came again, and this time louder than the last time, and twice as loud as the first.

“Keep your temper,” whispered the little mouse.

“I guess that’s the only thing I’ve got left,” cried poor Uncle Lucky. “I’ve lost my wits—I declare, I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t do anything,” advised the little mouse, “that’s what you agreed to do just a minute ago.”

But goodness me! as she finished speaking there arose a dreadful commotion in the backyard of Uncle Lucky’s little white house. Dear me, it was tornadeous and hurricaneous.

Please excuse me a moment. There’s so much noise I can’t even think what might happen if the Policeman Dog doesn’t arrive pretty soon and swing his club three or four times.

There it goes! Yes, sir, I thought I’d hear it soon, if not before. Yes, it’s the Policeman Dog’s whistle.

Out of his nice warm bed jumped Uncle Lucky and over to the window. The moonlight shone in like an automobile lamp, almost blinding Little Miss Mousie by the door. For a moment it made the dear old gentleman rabbit wink his eyes and blink his nose.

“Goodness gracious meebus! What is that big black shadow under the trees?” he whispered.

Then all of a sudden, the whistle sounded again, only this time way off down the road.

“What is the matter?” asked the old gentleman rabbit, his legs trembling so that his pajamas wrinkled at the knees. “What is the matter, and what is that dark shadow under the trees, and why is the Policeman Dog whistling down the road? Why doesn’t he whistle under my window and make me feel comfortable?”

But no one answered him. Not even Little Miss Mousie, for she had hopped down to the kitchen to peek out under the door. Pretty soon the sound of the whistle came again, this time a little bit louder. After another minute or two, it sounded again, only fainter.

“Dear, dear me, I’m so sorry for myself,” cried the poor old gentleman rabbit. “All this mystery is turning my hair white. What shall I do?”

“I’ve caught him! I’ve caught him!” all of a sudden a voice shouted, and the next minute into the yard ran the Policeman Dog with Danny Fox by the collar.

“Here’s the robber who knocked on your front door,” cried the noble police dog.

“Put him in jail for a century!” shouted Uncle Lucky from his bedroom window. “I want my great, great, great, great grandchildren never to be annoyed by this old robber!”

“I’ll speak to the Judge about it,” answered the faithful Policeman Dog, as he drove away with Danny Fox in the patrol wagon.

“Oh, I’m so relieved,” sighed the old gentleman rabbit, “I’ll now go back to bed and sleep till the little green rooster toots his horn at half past three to-morrow morn,” and, hopping into his pink pajamas, he pulled the crazy quilt up to his chin and tucked his whiskers snugly in.

Well, sir, and well, m’am. No sooner was the old gentleman rabbit sound asleep than the Dream Fairy looked in at the window.

“I must give Uncle Lucky a pretty dream,” and softly flying in, she lighted on the foot of the bed. Taking from her little Vanity Bag a blue rose she waved it to and fro, back and forth and up and down, till Uncle Lucky began to dream.

And what a lovely dream! Just wait till I tell it to you, dear boys and girls, for maybe when he wakes up he’ll forget all about it, as some people do, even as you and I.

The dear old gentleman rabbit dreamed that he was a boy again, playing marbles with Uncle John Hare when, dearest me and dearest you! along came Mrs. Wild Cat.

“Meow, meow, meow!” she said. “Let me play with you.”

Uncle John Hare looked at Uncle Lucky, and then they both looked at the Wild Cat. But what was the use of looking at her, or at each other, or at anything, for that matter. Goodness me! they were so frightened that their knees played tick tock, tick tock, and their hair stood up straight, and if ever there were two scared little rabbits, it was Uncle John and Uncle Lucky.

“What’s the matter with you two bunnies?” asked Mrs. Wild Cat. “Come, give me a shooter.”

“Here, here’s—one!” gasped Uncle John.

“You—can—have—mine,” faltered Uncle Lucky, “I’m tired. My thumb’s sore.”

“Stuff and nonsense,” meowed Mrs. Wild Cat. “Come on and play!”

But, oh, dear me! The two poor little bunnies missed every time and as Mrs. Wild Cat won every time, pretty soon she had all the marbles, as well as Uncle Lucky’s little bag and Uncle John’s little box.

“What else have you?” asked the purring Wild Cat.

“Nothing,” answered the bunny boy rabbits, “nothing, only a piece of chocolate cake and a lollypop.”

“Give them to me,” said the purring Wild Cat!

So what could each little bunny boy do but put his hand in his pocket and slowly draw out, Uncle John, the cake, and Uncle Lucky, the lollypop.

“Ha, ha, meow!” cried Mrs. Wild Cat, “don’t they look good. I love chocolate cake and lollypops, ice cream cones and pink gumdrops.”

“Please don’t take everything we have,” cried Uncle Lucky, tearfully.

“Give us back our marbles,” begged Uncle John Hare, with a sob.

“No, I want to take them home to my little kittens,” answered Mrs. Wild Cat, reaching out her paw for the lollypop.

“Wait just a minute, the stick has come out,” begged Uncle Lucky, leaning over to pick up the candy part. All of a sudden, just like that, he struck out with his strong hind feet, throwing the loose dirt into Mrs. Wild Cat’s eyes, and before she could open them the little rabbits had hopped into a hollow stump.

“Meow, meow! Just wait till I wipe my eyes. I’ll show you what I’ll do,” Mrs. Wild Cat screamed.

But, wasn’t it lucky? by that time the two little bunnies had found a tunnel leading away from the hollow stump. On and on they hopped until by and by, after a while, they found themselves out on the Sunny Meadow.

“Whew, I’m glad to be rid of that dreadful cat,” exclaimed Uncle Lucky.

“So am I,” said Uncle John Hare. “But, dear me! we’ve lost our marbles!”

Just then who should come along but Sic’em, the farmer’s dog. Of course in those days, when Uncle Lucky was a little boy and Uncle John Hare only a week older, Sic’em was a young dog. Oh, my, yes! And could run so fast that often his shadow was left a mile behind him!

“Bow, wow, now I’ll catch you two little rabbits,” he barked, when—wasn’t it a relief? the old gentleman rabbit woke up with a start to find that he had been dreaming. But he didn’t see the Dream Fairy as she flew out of the window. No, siree! Dear Uncle Lucky was hardly wide awake enough for that!

BUNNY TALE 15

THE RADIO STORY

“Well, well, well!” said Uncle Lucky, rubbing his eyes, “that was a queer dream. The idea of my dreaming I was a boy again, playing marbles with Uncle John Hare,” and, with a laugh, the old gentleman bunny jumped out of bed to look out of the window. It was early morning and the sky was pink and purple, yellow and red. The dew was sparkling on the grass and the trees were whispering to one another.

All of a sudden “Cock-a-doodle-do!” went the Old Red Rooster over by the barn. And then a robin began to sing and a little squirrel to scamper over the grass.

“Heigh ho!” exclaimed dear Uncle Lucky, “what a beautiful world. I must hurry down to my breakfast and then go for Little Jack Rabbit. He should be vaccinated. Maybe I’d better call up Dr. Quack, the famous duck doctor, to find out when he can see us.”

“Hello, Central, hurry, please, Something’s going to make me sneeze. Who has filled with pepper up The little rubber talking cup?”

Ker-choo! ker-choo! went the dear old gentleman rabbit, and before he could get out his lovely blue silk polkadot handkerchief somebody laughed outside the window.

“Who’s laughing at me?” asked the ex-as-per-a-ted—which means, dear littlest reader, teased nearly to death—old gentleman bunny, “and who put pepper in my telephone, I want to know?”

“Ha, ha! ha! ha!” laughed the voice again, just outside the sitting room window.

With a hop, skip and a jump across the nice rag carpet hopped the dear old bunny to peek through the curtain. There on the porch rail sat Jimmy Jay, the mischievous bird boy.

“Ha, ha! ha, ha!” he went again, throwing his head first to one side and then to the other, “Ha, ha! ha, ha!”

“Get off my porch,” shouted dear Uncle Lucky, “you bad, mischievous, sneak of a bird boy. Why don’t you play nice games instead of mean jokes? Get off my porch or I’ll do something to you,” and Uncle Lucky hopped back across the hall and opened the front door with a swing.

Away flew naughty Jimmy Jay like a flash of blue through the leaves.

“Ha, ha! ha, ha!” he laughed, “how peppery we are!”

“Good gracious meebus!” exclaimed the old gentleman bunny, “that bird boy is a bad one. If he doesn’t mend his ways I shall report him to the Policeman Dog. What right has he to come into my house and play such a trick on me?”

Dear Uncle Lucky was so provoked with Jimmy Jay that he almost forgot to call up Dr. Quack. But as soon as the mischievous bluebird was out of sight the kind old gentleman suddenly remembered and, hopping over to the telephone, shouted:

“One, two, three, S. O. S. Who is calling? Can’t you guess?”

“No, who is it?” answered a voice.

“Mr. Lucky Lefthindfoot. My nephew, Little Jack Rabbit, should be vaccinated. Can you come over to the Old Bramble Patch at once?”

“In about fifteen minutes,” replied the famous duck doctor.

Hanging up the receiver, Uncle Lucky hopped out to the garage and, cranking the Luckymobile, started off for the Sunny Meadow.