Part 5

“Oh, but you say I make you chase me and play tag, and that I won’t let you sit around and get stiff and old and all the like of that! I’d better go away,” and really it looked as though Baby Bunty were going away, for she had a little bundle in one paw.

“Oh, don’t go away!” begged Uncle Wiggily. “I don’t mind chasing you, and I was only fooling about you making me get old and stiff.”

“And I was only fooling about going away!” laughed Baby Bunty. “I’m only going to take my painting lesson from Mother Nature. She knows how to color the flowers red, blue and golden, and she is giving me painting lessons. My paints are in this bundle. When I finish learning how to make a blue sky turn pink I’ll come back to you.”

“Please do!” cried Uncle Wiggily. “I shall miss you.”

“Then, in an hour or so, if you walk through the woods you may meet me coming home from my painting lesson,” spoke Bunty.

“I will!” promised Uncle Wiggily. Then Baby Bunty hopped on with her box of colors, and Mr. Longears went to see Grandfather Goosey Gander.

“What do you s’pose Baby Bunty can paint?” asked Grandpa Goosey, when Uncle Wiggily had told about the little rabbit girl learning how to make a green leaf look red.

“I don’t know what she can paint, but she is a smart little thing,” said Mr. Longears. “It would be hard to find her equal if you hopped or waddled for one whole day and part of another.”

“I believe you!” quacked Grandpa Goosey Gander.

Pretty soon it was time for Uncle Wiggily to start hopping along the woodland path to meet Baby Bunty, for soon she would be leaving Mother Nature’s studio, where the little rabbit girl took her lessons.

“I must get Baby Bunty to give my red, white and blue striped barber pole rheumatism crutch a new coat of paint,” thought Uncle Wiggily, as he hopped along. “And I wonder just where I shall meet her!”

All of a sudden he heard a joyful sound.

“Hi, there, Uncle Wiggily! Here I am! Whoop-de-doodle-woodle!” and along hopped Baby Bunty. There was a smudge of red paint on one ear, a dab of blue paint on her left paw and a dribble of yellow paint on her hair ribbon.

“I’ve been having my painting lessons,” she said to Uncle Wiggily.

“I see you have!” he agreed, with a laugh. “Well, we’ll hop home now, and see what Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy has for supper.”

Uncle Wiggily and Baby Bunty were hopping along, when, all of a sudden, out from under a pile of dried grass jumped the bad old Magoosielum. The Magoosielum is worse than either the Pipsisewah or the Skuddlemagoon.

“Ah, ah! I’m in luck today!” cried the Magoosielum. “A rabbit gentleman and a rabbit girl! Let me see, whose souse shall I eat first? I guess I’ll take yours, Uncle Wiggily.”

With that the Magoosielum let go of Baby Bunty, well knowing she would not run away without Uncle Wiggily. Then the Magoosielum began looking at the rabbit gentleman’s ears to see where the best place would be to begin eating souse. For that is what souse is—pickled ears of nice rabbits.

“Well, I’ll take some left ear souse first,” said the Magoosielum, and he was just starting to do this, and Uncle Wiggily didn’t know what to do. The rabbit gentleman saw Baby Bunty open her paint box.

“That will not help any,” sadly thought Uncle Wiggily. “The only thing that will drive away a Magoosielum is pineapple cheese, and Baby Bunty has none of that.”

Then the bad animal stood in front of Uncle Wiggily picking out a good place to begin nibbling the souse, so Mr. Longears couldn’t see what Bunty was doing with the paint box. All he could see was that she was near a funny, old, gnarled and fire-blackened stump.

But, all of a sudden, Baby Bunty cried:

“Look out now, you bad old Magoosielum. Look out, or my friend, the Snippy-Snappy, will get you!”

And, as true as I’m telling you, there stood what seemed to be a little, short, squatty animal, with a big red mouth, a green nose, one yellow eye and one pink eye, one brown cheek and one purple one, and his teeth. Oh, his teeth were all sorts of colors, some even being Skilligimink shade!

“Oh, wow! Oh, this is terrible!” howled the bad Magoosielum. “Don’t let that Snippy-Snappy get me! I won’t hurt you, Uncle Wiggily!” And away ran the bad chap, not hurting Mr. Longears nor Bunty at all.

“But won’t the Snippy-Snappy get my souse?” asked Mr. Longears, when he saw that the unpleasant creature was gone. “Aren’t we in danger from the Snippy-Snappy?”

“Of course not!” laughed Bunty. “I just made the Snippy-Snappy on the outside of the funny old stump, with my colored paints. I painted the Snippy-Snappy, Uncle Wiggily, to scare the Magoosielum.”

“And right well you scared him,” spoke the bunny. “You surely are learning to paint, Bunty.” And if the safety pin doesn’t slide off the cushion and try to sprinkle soapsuds in the eye of the needle, I’ll tell you next about Uncle Wiggily and the queer log.

STORY XXI UNCLE WIGGILY AND THE QUEER LOG

“Where’s Uncle Wiggily? Where’s Uncle Wiggily?” asked Baby Bunty, the little rabbit girl, of Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, one morning. “Where is he?”

“Why, Uncle Wiggily has gone to the store for me,” answered the muskrat lady housekeeper of the hollow stump bungalow. “He has gone to get me some molasses!”

“Oh, dear!” sighed Baby Bunty, the little rabbit girl, who had been found in a hollow stump.

“Why, whatever is the matter?” asked Nurse Jane, who had a dab of flour on her nose. And whenever the muskrat lady had a dab of flour on her nose you could be sure that she was making a pie. “Don’t you like molasses cake, Bunty?” Miss Fuzzy Wuzzy asked.

“Oh, yes! Have you any?” Baby Bunty wanted to know.

“I’ll make one as soon as Uncle Wiggily comes back with the jug of molasses,” went on Nurse Jane. “But why did you say ‘Oh, dear!’ in such a doleful voice?”

“Because I wished Uncle Wiggily were here to chase me, or play tag, or something! I’m so afraid he’ll get old and stiff.”

“Well, why don’t you hop off in the woods and meet him?” asked Nurse Jane of the lively little rabbit girl. Baby Bunty could hardly ever keep still. “If you go to meet him you’ll see him hopping along with the molasses jug,” went on the muskrat lady, “and then he’ll chase you, or play tag or let you help him carry the sweet stuff I’m going to put in a cake.”

“I’ll do that,” said Baby Bunty, and away she hopped with her rubber doll named Beatrice Ethelmore Lemonsqueezer.

As she was hopping through the woods to meet Uncle Wiggily, all of a sudden Baby Bunty heard, near a little spring of water, a sad voice crying:

“Oh, I’m so wet! Oh, if some one would only help me out of the water!”

“Some one is drowning!” said Baby Bunty. “I wonder if I could save them?”

On a bed of soft, green moss, she put her wax doll, Sarah Ann Belinda Washbasin, and hurried to the side of the little spring. There Baby Bunty saw a poor honey bee splashing in the water.

“I’ll save you!” kindly said the little rabbit girl. With a long stick she fished the half-drowned bee out of the pool, and placed him on a leaf in the sun where his wings could dry.

“Thank you for saving me,” buzzed the bee, when he had shaken off some of the water. “I shall be glad to do you a favor, if I may. Do you want me to make you some honey?”

“Oh, thank you, no; not now,” answered Baby Bunty. “Uncle Wiggily is bringing home the molasses jug. But some other time we may want your honey.”

“Any time you do I’ll give you some,” buzzed the bee. Then he flew away to look for more honey flowers. Baby Bunty was glad she had saved the bee, which a big dragon fly had knocked into the spring of water.

On and on through the woods hopped Baby Bunty, and pretty soon she saw Uncle Wiggily coming toward her, with the molasses jug on his paw.

“Oh, Uncle Wiggily!” cried the little rabbit girl. “I’m so glad I met you. Now I’ll help you carry the molasses jug and when we get home you’ll chase me, and play tag; won’t you?”

“Oh, yes, I guess so,” answered Mr. Longears.

“It will keep you from getting old and stiff, you know,” said Baby Bunty sweetly, as she took hold of one side of the molasses jug.

She and Uncle Wiggily hopped on, but, all of a sudden, out from behind a bush jumped the bad old fox.

“Oh, ho!” cried the fox. “This time I have you!”

He made a grab for Uncle Wiggily and Bunty, but they were too quick for him.

“Run, Bunty! Run!” cried Mr. Longears. And he ran and hopped, and so did Bunty, and they got away from the fox. But, alas, they dropped the molasses jug and they didn’t dare stop to pick it up, or go back after it.

“Oh, dear! What shall I do?” sighed Uncle Wiggily. “I have lost the molasses and jug, and Nurse Jane will be so disappointed! Oh, dear!” and he sat down on a queer log, that had a hole in each end, and warts like a toad all over it.

“It is too bad,” said Baby Bunty.

“What is too bad?” asked a gentle, little voice, and out of one end of the queer log flew the very same honey bee that Baby Bunty had saved from the spring. “What is too bad?” asked the bee.

“The fox chased us and I lost the molasses jug,” said Uncle Wiggily.

“Oh, ho! Don’t let that worry you!” buzzed the bee. “Inside this queer log I and many other bees have a lot of flower honey. It is as sweet as molasses, and I’ll give you all you want. Here, make a box of some white birch bark from this tree, and take Nurse Jane a lot of our honey.”

“Oh, that will be just fine!” cried Uncle Wiggily. “Nurse Jane can make honey cakes!” And the muskrat lady did. So you see losing the molasses jug didn’t so much matter after all. And if the man in the moon doesn’t want to come and live in our house and make the lady bug move into the garage, I’ll tell you next about Uncle Wiggily and the lightning bug.

STORY XXII UNCLE WIGGILY AND THE LIGHTNING BUG

“Tag! You’re it!” cried Baby Bunty, the little rabbit girl, one morning, as she ran around on the porch of the hollow stump bungalow and tapped Uncle Wiggily on his tall silk hat with her paw.

“Oh, dear! Now I suppose I’ve got to chase you!” exclaimed the rabbit gentleman, as he started his pink nose to twinkling. “And I’m so stiff I can hardly run this morning!”

But Mr. Longears chased the little rabbit girl, and he really felt better after a lively race around the hollow stump bungalow, so that some of his stiffness was gone as he set forth, a little later, to hop through the woods with Bunty.

“What sort of an adventure do you think we’ll have today, Uncle Wiggily?” asked Baby Bunty, as she hopped along beside the rabbit gentleman.

“Oh, you never can tell,” he answered. “I suppose the skillery-scalery alligator, or the bad old Pipsisewah will come along and——”

Hardly had Uncle Wiggily said these few words than he and Baby Bunty heard a sad little voice saying:

“Oh, dear! Oh, dear, me! Here I’m caught in a sassafras tree!”

“Who’s that?” asked Baby Bunty.

“I don’t know who it is, but I know who it isn’t!” exclaimed Uncle Wiggily.

“Then who isn’t it?” asked Baby Bunty.

“It isn’t the Pipsisewah,” spoke the rabbit gentleman. “He never uses poetry, though he did eat some of your sugary frosted chocolate cake the other day. But I must see who this is. They may need help.”

“Indeed I do!” went on the sad little voice.

“Who are you?” asked Uncle Wiggily.

“A lightning bug,” was the answer. “Some persons call us fireflies, and that’s a good name, too. But I am caught fast by my legs in the sticky gum on this sassafras tree, and I can’t get loose.”

“I’ll help you,” said Uncle Wiggily.

“So will I,” added Baby Bunty.

She and Uncle Wiggily looked, and they saw a little brown and drab bug on the branch of a sassafras tree not far away.

“You don’t look like a lightning bug,” said Baby Bunty. “You don’t shine at all.”

“I only shine in the dark,” said the bug.

“Yes, that is true; many times I have seen you, or your friends,” admitted Uncle Wiggily. Then he gently set the firefly free from the sticky gum, and the little bug flew away. But before it left it said:

“If ever I can help you, or Baby Bunty, I shall be most glad to do so, Uncle Wiggily.”

“Oh, pray, don’t mention it,” spoke the rabbit gentleman, diffident-like and shy.

Uncle Wiggily and Baby Bunty traveled on and on over the fields and through the woods, looking for an adventure, but they could not seem to find any, unless you call helping the lightning bug an adventure.

And pretty soon it began to get dark, for Uncle Wiggily had stayed out later than he meant to.

“Oh, dear!” sighed Baby Bunty. “Hadn’t we better get back to your hollow stump, Uncle Wiggily?”

“Yes, I think so,” said the rabbit gentleman. But when he tried to find the path that led to home and Nurse Jane he could not. It was too dark.

“Oh, we are lost in the woods and the bad Pipsisewah will get us,” cried Baby Bunty.

“Hush!” said Uncle Wiggily. “It will be all right. I’ll light a fire here on this big stone. The Pipsisewah, or no other wild animal, will come where there is a fire!”

“Then please light one,” begged Baby Bunty.

But when Uncle Wiggily tried to make the fire he found he had no matches. And then, all of a sudden, there was heard a crackling and rustling in the bushes.

“Oh, the Pipsisewah is coming!” cried Baby Bunty.

“He’d soon go away if I could make these sticks burn!” said Uncle Wiggily, trying again to find a match, but he could not.

The Pipsisewah came nearer and nearer, howling for rabbit-ear souse. And then, all of a sudden, a little bright and shining light flew through the air, and came down on the flat stone where Uncle Wiggily had placed the sticks to make a fire. And, in another moment ten thousand other little points of light came flying along. They dropped down among the dry sticks and branches at the spot where Uncle Wiggily had tried to make the blaze until it looked as if the whole place were burning.

“Oh, look!” cried Baby Bunty. “We have a bonfire!”

And the Pipsisewah, seeing the bright light, gave a grumble and growl and quickly sneaked away.

“Just my luck!” he said. “I thought I’d have a bit of souse, but I don’t even dare go near the fire!”

And Uncle Wiggily, looking among the sticks, said:

“This isn’t burning fire at all; it’s just a lot of lightning bugs crawling on the pieces of wood.”

“Yes, that’s what we are,” said a voice. “I am the lightning bug you saved from the sticky gum, and these are my cousins and my sisters and my aunts.”

“And you saved us from the Pipsisewah!” said Uncle Wiggily, and so the lightning bugs had. Then the firefly bugs flew on ahead, lighting the path to the hollow stump bungalow for the bunnies, and all was well.

And if the loaf of bread doesn’t hide in the flower pot when the rice pudding wants it to help catch the raisins for a pie, I’ll tell you next about Uncle Wiggily and the roses.

STORY XXIII UNCLE WIGGILY AND THE ROSES

“Dear me!” exclaimed Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy one day, as she walked down to the end of her garden near the hollow stump bungalow. “This is too bad!”

“What’s the matter now?” asked Uncle Wiggily Longears. “Have Jackie and Peetie Bow Wow, those two little puppy dog boys, been digging up your seeds?”

“No,” answered the muskrat lady housekeeper to the bunny rabbit gentleman, “not quite that. But something has been eating my lovely roses. And I wanted to keep them nice to send a bouquet to Grandpa Goosey Gander.”

“Ha! Some one has been eating your roses have they, Nurse Jane?” exclaimed Uncle Wiggily, animosity-like and determined. “Well, do you think Johnnie or Billie Bushytail, the squirrels, or Jimmie Wibblewobble, the duck, or perhaps Curly and Floppy Twistytail, the piggie boys, could have taken the flowers?”

“No, indeed!” said Nurse Jane. “They wouldn’t do that. Some one seems to have been chewing the lovely rose petals, that are like satin velvet, and also, many of the green leaves are eaten.”

“Then I just know who did it!” cried Uncle Wiggily. “I know who has been eating your roses!”

“Who?” asked Nurse Jane, all excited like.

“The Skuddlemagoon, the Skeezicks or the Pipsisewah! Either one of those bad chaps!” said the bunny.

“I think so, too,” said Baby Bunty, who hopped along just then, rolling her hoop. “Can you catch them, Uncle Wiggily?”

“I’m going to try,” said the brave bunny gentleman.

“Oh, please don’t!” begged Nurse Jane. “I don’t want you to run into danger, Uncle Wiggily, and catching the Skeezicks, the Pipsisewah or the Skuddlemagoon would be very dangerous. The roses aren’t worth it.”

“Oh, yes they are,” said Uncle Wiggily. “But I am not going to run into danger. The way I’ll catch whoever is eating your rose petals will be this. I’ll hide out here in the grass, and when I see the Skuddlemagoon, the Pipsisewah or the Skeezicks sneaking up to bite a flower, I’ll run out, sprinkle some salt on their tails and that will make them behave.”

“Well, perhaps if you do it that way it will be all right,” said Nurse Jane. “But do take care of yourself, Uncle Wiggily; won’t you?”

“I will,” promised the bunny rabbit gentleman. So he got the big salt cellar out of the kitchen, and then he hid himself in the tall grass near the rose bushes in Nurse Jane’s garden.

“I’m going to hide with you, too, and watch,” said Baby Bunty. “I can tell you when the Pipsisewah is coming, Uncle Wiggily.”

“Yes, you may hide with me,” said Mr. Longears. “You are a lively little rabbit girl, and you will not fall asleep yourself, nor let me.”

“Indeed, I won’t,” promised Baby Bunty, and she kept tickling Uncle Wiggily with a piece of ribbon grass on his pink, twinkling nose every time he looked as though he were going to doze off and fall asleep.

Uncle Wiggily and Baby Bunty had not been hiding and watching very long before, all of a sudden, the little rabbit girl whispered:

“Here comes the Skeezicks!”

“Eh? The Skeezicks? So he does!” spoke the rabbit gentleman softly, and, looking over the top of the grass he saw the bad chap sneaking along. The Skeezicks picked off a rose and held it in his paw.

“Now I’ll slip out and sprinkle salt on his tail!” said Uncle Wiggily. And he was just going to do this when Baby Bunty said:

“Oh, wait! Here comes the Skuddlemagoon!”

And, surely enough, into the garden came also the bad Skuddlemagoon.

“Two of ’em! This is going to be our busy day!” said Uncle Wiggily softly, as he looked to see if he had enough salt. “Well, I’ll tame ’em both! They must learn to let Nurse Jane’s roses alone,” said he.

Uncle Wiggily was just going to hop out and sprinkle salt on the tails of the Skeezicks and the Skuddlemagoon, when Baby Bunty caught him by the coat tails—she caught Uncle Wiggily, I mean—and pulled him back down in the tall grass.

“Look out! Here comes the Pipsisewah!” cried the lively little rabbit girl, in a shrill whisper.

Uncle Wiggily looked. Surely enough there was the old Pip, and just as the Skuddlemagoon and the Skeezicks had done, the Pipsisewah picked a rose.

“Now we know who has been eating Nurse Jane’s flowers,” said Uncle Wiggily to Baby Bunty. “Well, here I go to sprinkle salt on all three of their tails, and then we’ll see what happens.”

“Better wait,” said the little rabbit girl, and, as she said that the Pipsisewah exclaimed:

“Now, gentlemen, I believe we are all ready. Take a smell of your roses and then we’ll rush up to the bungalow, grab Uncle Wiggily and take away all his souse.”

“Right you are!” growled the Skuddlemagoon and the Skeezicks. All three of the bad chaps lifted the roses to their noses to smell the sweet posies, when, all of a sudden, a big, black pinching beetle flew out of the rose the Skeezicks had and pinched him on the nose. And a big black beetle flew out of the rose the Skuddlemagoon held and pinched him on the nose. And then a big black beetle flew out of the rose the Pipsisewah held and pinched him on the nose.

“Wow! Wow! Wow!” cried the bad animals. “This is too much!”

And away they ran, not hurting Uncle Wiggily at all, and they never took any more of Nurse Jane’s flowers. And because the beetles had been so brave they were given all the rose leaf honey they wanted.

Now if the umbrella doesn’t run out in the rain, and get its rubbers all wet so it can’t slide down the ironing board, I’ll tell you next about Uncle Wiggily and the red tulip.

STORY XXIV UNCLE WIGGILY AND THE RED TULIP

Down in Nurse Jane’s garden, near the hollow stump bungalow, grew many flowers besides the roses, out of which flew the black beetles to nip the noses of the Skeezicks, the Skuddlemagoon and the Pipsisewah, as I have told you.

Among the flowers were big tulips, white, golden and pink, and, best of all, Uncle Wiggily Longears, the rabbit gentleman, loved a tulip that was red.

“It makes me think of so many things that are beautiful,” said Uncle Wiggily. “I could look at the red tulip all day long.”

“Well, please don’t look at it all day just now, if you please!” begged Nurse Jane with a laugh. “Far be it from me, Uncle Wiggily, to hurt your feelings,” said she, “or to make you stop loving my flowers. But it is getting late afternoon now, and I have company coming for tea. There isn’t a bit of sugar in the bungalow, and unless you go to the seven and eight cent store and get me some—well, my little tea party will not be at all nice.”

“Oh, excuse me! I’ll go get the sugar at once,” said Uncle Wiggily. Then, putting on his tall, silk hat, and taking his red, white and blue striped rheumatism crutch off the garden gate, Uncle Wiggily started to hop to the nine and ten cent store for some sugar.

“But I must take just one more look at the red tulip,” said Uncle Wiggily. “I want to remember how beautiful it was as I hop along to the store.”

So he went into the garden again, and stood looking at the red flower, the petals of which were spread wide open to let the sun warm the heart of the blossom.

Then Uncle Wiggily noticed that some weeds were growing up too near the red tulip, so he dug them out with the end of his red crutch.

“Weeds are not good for flowers,” said Uncle Wiggily.

Just then Baby Bunty called to him from the back kitchen window:

“Uncle Wiggily, if you don’t stop fussing over that tulip, and hurry on to the store, it will be closed—I mean the store will be closed. It’s getting late.”

“Yes, and the tulip will be closed also,” said Uncle Wiggily. “Tulip flowers close when evening comes and open in the morning. But I’ll hurry, Baby Bunty.”

Giving one last look at his favorite flower, Uncle Wiggily hopped on to the ten and eleven cent store. The afternoon was rapidly turning into evening, and the bunny rabbit gentleman hurried as fast as he could. But, just as Baby Bunty had said, he had spent too much time over the red tulip. The store was closed and Uncle Wiggily could get no sugar.

“This is too bad!” he exclaimed. “What am I going to do for sugar for Nurse Jane’s tea! She’ll be so disappointed. I’ll go see if I can find another store that isn’t closed, as my red tulip must be closed now.”

So Uncle Wiggily hopped on through the woods, but no other store could he find. And it was getting later and later, and he knew it must be almost time for Nurse Jane’s company to arrive and have tea.

“Well, there is no help for it,” said the rabbit gentleman, sort of ashamed like and perfunctory. “I’ll just have to tell Nurse Jane I reached the store too late. She’ll have to use molasses to sweeten the tea. And yet that will not be at all nice.”

Still there was nothing else to be done. If it had been spring he could have gotten some sweet maple sugar sap from a tree, but the sap had stopped running.

“I guess molasses is what she’ll have to use,” said the bunny, as he hopped around the back way into his hollow stump bungalow. “I’ll take one last look at my red tulip,” he said. He wanted to put off, as long as possible, telling Nurse Jane the bad news.