STORY XIBUMPER MEETS A FOX
When the White Rabbit hopped ashore from his raft, he was so happy that he gave the board a kick with his two hind legs, and sent it spinning far out into the stream. He supposed that he was all alone, and no one had seen him land, but he was surprised when a voice near him cried out:
"Look out! What are you trying to do?"
There was a flop in the water, and when Bumper turned he saw a queer looking fish swimming toward the shore, using his hind legs instead of fins to propel him along. He had big, staring eyes, and a green head, with white under his throat.
"That's what I call a mean trick!" the swimmer added, hopping upon a lily-pad, for it was Mr. Bull-Frog that Bumper had mistaken for a queer fish. "You upset me from that leaf and disturbed my sleep. If I hadn't been an excellent swimmer I should have been dead by this time."
"What did I do?" asked Bumper, in surprise.
"What did you do?" was the indignant retort. "What but push that board against my lily-pad and knock me in the water! I call that doing a good deal."
Bumper was inclined to laugh at the angry Bull-Frog, who was swelling up to twice his usual size and puffing out his cheeks; but he refrained from this when he realized that he had unintentionally disturbed the frog's noonday siesta. So he answered in a friendly way, hoping to pacify his feelings.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Frog, but I didn't see you on the lily-pad. The fact is, your head is exactly the color of the lily-pad, and no one could distinguish it a few feet away. What a lovely green it is, too—your head, I mean."
Mr. Bull-Frog was apparently as susceptible to flattery as Mr. Crow, and his ruffled feelings began to subside. "Yes, I fancy it is a pretty green," he said. "I've always heard that the lily was the prettiest of flowers, and that's why my family is attracted by it. Would you like to sun yourself on one of these pads? They're very soft and cool."
"No, thank you," laughed Bumper, "I'm afraid I'd get my feet wet. Besides, I'm desperately hungry. If you don't mind I'll eat some of these delicious leaves and grasses."
"Go ahead. I don't mind. But I can't see what you like about them to eat."
"Neither can I see why a frog likes flies and insects. Ugh! The thought of eating them makes me sick."
"Well," remarked Mr. Frog, "I suppose every one to his taste. As for me, I prefer flies and worms, and—"
He stopped suddenly, and looked through the low brush into the woods back of the river front. Bumper was so busy filling his little stomach with green, succulent things that he scarcely noticed the other's hesitation.
"—and," continued Mr. Frog, after a pause, "some animals prefer eating rats, lizards, toads, and rabbits."
"Rabbits!" exclaimed Bumper. "Who eats rabbits?"
"Mr. Fox for one," answered the Frog, "and if my eyes don't deceive me there's one in the bushes waiting to eat you. If you'll excuse me, I'll take a dive. I've known Mr. Fox to eat frogs when he was very hungry."
There was a flop in the water, and the bullfrog disappeared from sight. Bumper reared up on his hind legs and looked around him. He had never seen a fox, but his mother had often told him tales about their cruelty. They wereforever hunting little rabbits to eat, and they were as sly and cunning as they were barbarous.
Bumper's quick eyes caught sight of Mr. Fox hiding in the bushes, and, for a moment, his heart beat a loud tattoo. What was he to do? Jump back in the river and try to swim across to the opposite shore, or face the fox and try to escape from him by running?
The woods were very thick all along the river's bank, and there were many good hiding-places; but Mr. Fox stood ready to head him off either way he ran. Bumper was in a quandary just what to do.
"Good morning, Mr. Fox!" he called, hoping to gain time by being polite and friendly.
Mr. Fox sniffed the air, raising his nose several inches above his head. He seemed quite uncertain about something, but his nose apparently satisfied him.
"Good morning," he answered finally, grinning. "But what a joke you played on me, Mr. Rabbit. I couldn't believe my own eyes. What's happened to you?"
"Why, nothing," stammered Bumper, mystified. "Why do you ask such a question."
"Why? Because you're all white. I thought first you were a ghost. And your eyes—they'repink. Whoever heard of a white rabbit with pink eyes?"
Bumper was quick to see the cause of the fox's surprise. Like the crow, he had never seen a white rabbit before, and he suddenly gained confidence by this knowledge.
"How do you know I'm not a ghost?" he asked, smiling.
"How do I know? Ha! Ha! That's a good one! But I'll tell you how I know. I smell you. No ghost could have that delicious rabbit smell that fills my nose every time the wind blows toward me."
Bumper, for the lack of any words to say, laughed long and hard at this remark. Then he controlled himself, and added: "I wouldn't trust my nose, Mr. Fox. A rabbit's ghost might smell just as sweet and delicious as a real one."
"I don't believe it," grinned Mr. Fox. "Anyway, I'm going to find out. If you're a ghost, why, it will be easy enough for you to disappear."
"Yes, of course, but I should hate to disappoint you. Now, do you know where rabbits go when they die?"
"Yes, in my stomach."
Mr. Fox laughed long and loud at this cruel joke, and Bumper winced; but he was playing for time to think of a plan to escape. EvidentlyMr. Fox was not to be outwitted by flattery, and he determined upon another ruse.
There was a fallen tree near him, but to reach it he would have to advance a few feet straight toward the fox. The heart of the tree was rotten and hollow, and to escape in this was Bumper's design. But how to distract Mr. Fox's attention until he could reach it was the question.
"Oh, Mr. Fox," he said suddenly, "I met Mr. Crow on the river, and he asked me about the white crows in the city. When I told him, he flew away to the city to see if living there would turn him white. That's a joke on Mr. Crow all right, isn't it?"
"Yes—but are there white crows in the city?"
"There are white rabbits. Then why not white crows, and white foxes?"
"White foxes?"
"Yes, why not? Didn't you ever see one?"
"No, but I've heard of them, it seems to me, but they live way up north, don't they?"
"If you want to see one now," continued Bumper, "look at the sun for ten seconds, and sneeze twice, and then—"
"What then?"
"Do as I tell you, and then I'll tell you the rest."
Mr. Fox, after all, was a little vain, or at leastvery curious, and this strange proposition interested him. He raised his head, and looked straight into the blinding sun.
"Now count—one, two, three, four, and sneeze," added Bumper.
No fox can look hard at the sun long without sneezing, and after counting six this one nearly sneezed his head off. That was what Bumper was waiting for. He made a dive for the hollow tree, and got inside of it. When Mr. Fox reached the log, and found the hole too small for him, he was quite mad, and said: "I'll make you pay for that trick some day, Mr. Rabbit."
STORY XIIBUMPER ADMIRED BY THE BIRDS
It isn't good for us to be too smart. It sometimes makes us vain, and then one day we overdo it. Bumper had some excuse for playing the trick on Mr. Crow and Mr. Fox, for his life depended upon it; but his success was giving him a little swelled head. He began to feel that he could get out of any danger by using his wits.
"It takes a city rabbit to find a way out of difficulty," he reflected, as he lay snugly in the hollow trunk of the tree. "These country animals are dull-witted. I do hope my cousins of the woods are not so stupid. Perhaps they are, and that's why people say rabbits are cunning but very stupid."
This sort of reasoning was the very thing that got him in trouble, and nearly caused his death. He was so sure that he had outwitted Mr. Fox, he decided after a while to leave the hollow trunk, and eat some of the green leaves and branches growing around outside.
But he knew less about the cunning and patience of the fox than he thought. Instead oftrotting off in the woods, chagrined and disgusted by his defeat, the fox was lying low ready to pounce on the white rabbit the moment he showed himself. He was so still that Bumper couldn't hear the rustle of a leaf or the snap of a twig.
"I think I'll go out now," Bumper said finally. "I'm dreadfully hungry."
Instead of poking his head out cautiously to investigate, he walked straight from the hollow trunk into the very jaws of the fox. There was a sharp click of teeth, and Bumper felt a terrible pain in one of his long ears. He must have leaped five feet in the air, and another five feet sideways. The fox had missed his neck by an inch, but to make up for this mistake, he now pursued the rabbit, leaping nearly as high in the air to catch him as Bumper.
Terrified by the attack, and not knowing what to do, the white rabbit jumped this way and that, clearing high bushes and landing in dense thickets that tore his fur and hurt him terribly. But the fox followed him, paying no attention to the briers and thorns.
It was a narrow escape. For a moment Bumper thought his time had come. He couldn't get back to the hollow tree trunk, and there was no other hiding-place near that the fox couldn't follow him in.
It certainly would have gone hard with him, and the rest of his adventures could never have been told, if a couple of blue jays hadn't built a nest in a tree directly over him. The commotion in the bushes startled the birds, and with loud, shrill cries they darted down to see what was doing. The sight of the fox angered them. Foxes robbed birds' nests whenever they got a chance, and the blue jays knew this. Therefore, a fox in the neighborhood of their home was not to be tolerated.
They flew down like two blue streaks and landed their sharp bills on the head and face of Mr. Fox. One stroke came so near to one of his eyes that he dodged and ducked, and stopped pursuing Bumper long enough to snap at the birds.
But the blue jays were prepared for this, and they kept well beyond his reach. As soon as he turned from them to the rabbit again they flew back to the attack. They punished him unmercifully, pecking at him until he was so angry that he could hardly see straight.
Meanwhile, of course, Bumper was taking advantage of this interruption. He was running through the underbrush as fast as he could until he was far ahead. Right and left he searched for a hole or any kind of an opening he couldcrawl in. And there, just ahead of him, appeared what he was looking for! This time it was the hollow branch of a giant tree hanging down, with one end still attached to the trunk.
Bumper was in the hollow branch like a flash. Mr. Fox reached it just a moment too late, and to vent his anger at losing the rabbit the second time he clawed and snapped at the branch as if he would rip it asunder. But the limb, with a decayed heart, had a stout shell, and the fox soon gave it up in disgust.
Now, the hollow branch, as you know, had one end on the ground, and the other still attached to the trunk where the wind had broken it off. So Bumper found his hole slanting upward, and as he crawled through to the other end he was actually climbing a tree. Perhaps you have heard that rabbits can't climb trees, but Bumper did in this instance.
When he reached the upper end, he found himself ten feet from the ground, with Mr. Fox below and unable to reach him. It was such an unusual sight to see a rabbit up a tree that the fox was more puzzled than ever. "Could white rabbits climb trees?" he asked himself.
Between his discouragement at being twice outwitted, and his amazement at finding a white rabbit with pink eyes that could climb a tree, Mr.Fox finally dropped his tail between his legs and trotted away. Bumper watched him go, and sighed with relief. The blue jays were equally relieved in mind, and once more returned to their home to guard it against invasion.
When Bumper stuck his head out of the upper end of the big tree branch, he noticed that he was up among the birds which had been singing a lively concert until he interrupted them. There were birds which Bumper had never seen before, some with startling plumage, and others with voices that sounded like flutes.
They did not renew their singing, but perked their heads sideways and watched this strange thing popping out of the hollow limb. Finally one of them, Mrs. Oriole, clad in a suit of gold, streaked with black and gray, spoke.
"It's Mr. Rabbit's ghost, I do believe. Mr. Fox must have caught him after all."
"If it's a ghost, I'd like to have some of his white fur for my nest," remarked Rusty the Blackbird. "I think I'll steal some."
"He's a pretty lively ghost," warned Piney the Purple Finch. "I wouldn't venture too near."
Bumper blinked his pink eyes at them, and smiled.
"I'm not a ghost yet," he said. "I'm quitealive and well, but very hungry. If you don't mind I'll eat a few of these delicious green leaves."
The birds watched him in silence. They were as curious and puzzled as the Crow had been. Finally, Mr. Pine Grosbeak plucked up courage to approach nearer.
"If you're really alive," he said, "let me pluck some of those beautiful white hairs as souvenirs. I never saw such lovely fur before."
"You can have one hair," laughed Bumper, "just to prove to you that I'm a real live rabbit."
Mr. Pine Grosbeak took him at his word, and plucked a hair from his back. It made Bumper wince.
"Surely you'll give me one, too, for my nest," added Piney the Purple Finch, and without waiting for consent he plucked two. Rusty the Blackbird came swooping down next. "I need some of your beautiful white fur to show my little ones," he said. "I'll take three."
The other birds expressed their admiration, and then begged a few hairs, too. There was Mrs. Crested Flycatcher, and Mrs. Ph[oe]be Bird, and little Towhee the Chewink. The process of extracting a few hairs from his back caused Bumper exquisite pain, but he wanted to beobliging, especially as the birds all admired and flattered him.
But when Mr. Woodpecker, who had been rapping on the dead trees of the woods, appeared, Bumper decided it was time for him to call a halt. "That's all I can spare," he said, and darted back into the hollow branch.
He was glad to make friends with the birds, but he didn't want to be robbed of all the clothes he had.
STORY XIIIBUMPER NEEDS A DOCTOR
It was necessary for Bumper to show a certain amount of firmness with his newly-made friends, and when he finally emerged from the hollow branch again he made a little speech to the birds.
"If you don't mind, dear friends," he said, "I must ask you to stop plucking me any more. I really can't afford to lose my fur. It's all the protection I have from the rain, and when winter comes I'll need it to keep me warm."
"But a few hairs to line my nest with won't hurt you," pleaded Mrs. Ph[oe]be Bird.
"No," replied Bumper firmly, "if I let you have some I must do the same to all the others, and I don't want to offend Towhee the Chewink or Mr. Crested Flycatcher or any of the others. I want to be friends with all of you."
The justice of this was recognized by all the birds, and they decided not to press the question; but they were voluble with their expressions of admiration.
"I never saw such beautiful pink eyes before," remarked Piney the Purple Finch.
"Nor such snow-white fur," added Mr. Pine Grosbeak.
"I never knew there was such a thing as a white rabbit in the world," said Rusty the Blackbird.
Bumper could not feel other than puffed up by such remarks, but he tried to hide it from his new friends.
"Are all the rabbits in the woods brown or gray, then?" he asked. "I should like to see them. Do they live around here?"
"Yes," replied the Purple Finch, "but they're very much frightened and keep to their burrows since Mr. Fox came here to live."
"I should like to find them," sighed Bumper. "The fact is, I'm lonesome, and a little bit homesick. I'm not used to the woods, and I should dearly like to find some of my brown cousins so they could teach me things."
"I shouldn't think you needed much teaching," laughed the Red-Headed Woodpecker, tapping the limb with his powerful bill. "Any rabbit that can escape from Mr. Fox and climb a tree as you did must know a great deal."
The other birds nodded their heads at this remark,and Bumper looked pleased at the compliment to his shrewdness.
"Still," he said, "I'd like to meet my country cousins."
"If I see any of them," Rusty the Blackbird replied, "I'll tell them about you. They'll be surprised to know of your coming."
The rest agreed to carry the news to the wild rabbits when they saw them, and Bumper knew that he would soon find his country cousins. He felt that he would be welcome, and safer with them. There were so many puzzling things about the woods that, in spite of his self-confidence, he was often embarrassed.
This conclusion was further impressed upon him very forcibly a few hours later. When he was certain that the fox had left the vicinity for good, he crawled through his tunnel to the ground, and began feeding on the wild grasses, leaves and strange plants that grew so thickly in the woods.
Most of the plants were new to him. He hardly recognized any of them. Some were sweet and juicy, and others were so bitter that one taste was enough. No one could help him in the selection of his food, and he had to trust to his instinct.
But instinct isn't always a safe guide whenone is not familiar with his surroundings. Now just what plant it was that disagreed with him Bumper never knew. His little stomach was so full of leaves and plants that when he first began to feel sick and giddy he thought it was due to overeating.
"I'll just lie down in the shade now and rest," he said. "Then when I feel better I'll hop around and find a place to spend the night."
This was a wise decision, but it wasn't a cure. Something he had eaten clearly disagreed with him. Instead of growing better he felt worse the longer he rested. In time he was feeling so sick and giddy that if Mr. Fox had appeared he would have made short work of Bumper. His groans soon attracted the birds, and they flew to where he was lying and asked him the trouble.
"I'm dying, I think," moaned Bumper. "I must have eaten some poisonous plant, and I know I'm dying."
The birds were startled by this information, and they held an immediate consultation.
"It's perhaps true what he says," remarked Mrs. Ph[oe]be Bird. "He's eaten some poisonous plant."
"If we only knew what it was," added the Pine Grosbeak, "we might help him. There's an antidote for every poison."
"Yes," assented the Purple Finch, "but not knowing the kind of poison, we can't prescribe the antidote."
"Why not," suggested the Crested Flycatcher, "give him all the antidotes, and then we're sure to give him the right one."
Rusty the Blackbird laughed out loud at this suggestion. "Why," he said, "we'd stuff him so full of antidotes that he'd die anyhow. No, I think we'd better see Mr. Crane."
"What could he do? He's no kind of a doctor," indignantly remarked Mrs. Ph[oe]be Bird. "The idea of calling him in!"
Rusty, who was a jolly, rollicking bird, winked, and added: "No, he isn't much of a doctor, it's true, but he's got one medicine that nearly always works. I'll go fetch him."
During the dispute that followed, Rusty slipped away, and before the argument had reached a climax, he returned, accompanied by Mr. Crane.
"Now, Dr. Crane," said Rusty, smiling and winking, "see what you can do with the White Rabbit. I told you what ailed him. He's eaten too much of something that disagrees with him."
"Then I can cure him," gravely replied Dr. Crane, approaching Bumper's side. The other birds crowded around to see what he would do.The appearance of Mr. Crane in the rôle of a doctor was a new one to them, and they were curious to see how well he would acquit himself.
"Let me see your tongue," Mr. Crane said solemnly.
Bumper stuck out his tongue obediently, for he felt so sick that he didn't care what happened to him.
"That's good! Now I must look down your throat. Open it wide."
Bumper readily complied, and Mr. Crane looked down it.
"Now hold it open," Mr. Crane continued. "Don't close it until I tell you. I won't hurt you."
Then to the surprise of Bumper and all the birds, he inserted his long, slender bill down the throat as if he intended to pull something out of it. But he had no such intention. He simply twisted the bill around gently.
Bumper felt a tickling sensation in his throat, and he wanted to gag, but the bill prevented him. The tickling went on for some time until Bumper, in spite of himself, began to gag and retch. Then, as suddenly as Dr. Crane had inserted his bill in the throat, he withdrew it.
But Dr. Crane had accomplished his purpose. The tickling in the throat had started Bumperto vomiting, and all his dinner, including the poisonous plant, came up with a rush. It made him weak and faint, but the pain in his stomach was relieved, and when he was through he looked up and said faintly: "Thank you, Dr. Crane, I feel much better."
And Rusty the Blackbird, flapping his wings, crowed with delight: "What did I tell you! Dr. Crane carries an antidote for every poison in his bill! But it's a bitter medicine sometimes."
STORY XIVBUMPER MEETS MR. BEAR
Bumper spent a quiet, restful night after Dr. Crane had removed the trouble that was causing his sickness; but he was very weak and faint, and he slept long after the birds were up and singing. He was a little afraid at first to eat anything when he finally crawled from his hole in the decayed tree branch; but, recognizing some sweet birch trees, he ate moderately of the leaves and bark.
This seemed to put new life in him, and by early noon he felt quite himself again. Rusty the Blackbird, who had taken quite an interest in him, brought him the cheering news that his country cousins were living in a burrow a few miles back in the thick woods.
"Take this deer trail back about a mile, and you'll find them," he said. "You can't miss their home. It's under a big rock which you'll come to."
Bumper thanked him, and decided to begin his journey at once. He was very anxious to find a home with the wild rabbits, for his chance ofgetting back to the garden where the red-headed girl lived was very slim. He had no idea how far down the river he had floated, nor what direction to take to find the garden.
"Is there any danger of meeting Mr. Fox on the trail?" he asked a little anxiously.
"No," replied Rusty, "for Buster the Bear frequents the trail, and Mr. Fox is dreadfully afraid of him."
"But how about Buster the Bear eating me up?"
"He might," admitted Rusty, "if he caught you, and was very hungry, but you don't want to let him catch you."
"That's true," replied Bumper, "but I might not be able to avoid him. Is he as quick as Mr. Fox?"
"Oh, dear, no! You can easily outrun him. He's so clumsy he falls over his own big feet sometimes, and he makes such a noise you can hear him coming a mile away."
"Then I don't believe I'm afraid of him," replied Bumper, in a voice of relief.
When he started out on his travels he felt pretty good, and on the way he stopped to eat every time he found something he knew was good for him. He avoided all strange plants, and ate only those he recognized.
In a short time he came to such thick woods that if it hadn't been for the deer trail he would have been lost, but he followed Rusty's directions, and kept strictly to the well-worn path. When he grew tired, he rested by the wayside, always hiding in the thick bushes, and keeping one eye and both ears open. There were many strange and wonderful noises in the woods, and more than once Bumper started up with fright.
But nothing happened to him until he was so far in the woods that he thought the big rock must be near. He kept a sharp lookout for it. Just then he heard a noise so different from anything that had startled him before that he stopped to listen. It seemed as if some one was in great pain, and needed help.
Now Bumper was very tender-hearted, and any one in distress made him very sad. So instead of keeping on the trail, he wandered off to find out who was moaning so loudly.
And what he beheld was enough to make any rabbit laugh! It was Buster the Bear fast asleep, snoring as if he enjoyed it. Bumper was frightened at first by the sight of the big, shaggy head and body, but when he recalled Rusty's words, and saw that Buster was sleeping, he stopped and laughed. It was a sight to make any one laugh.
Buster's big, shaggy body rose and fell with every breath, and each time a loud snore came from his half open mouth. It sounded like a wheezy pair of bellows trying to play a tune. Bumper had never heard anything like it in his life.
While he stood off at a safe distance watching, a bumblebee lighted on Buster's nose and tickled it. The bear brushed it off with a paw, and rolled over to renew his sleep. But, unfortunately for Buster, he whacked the bee so hard that he must have hurt it.
Anyway, the bumblebee resented it, and gave him a sharp sting on the nose. The effect was startling. Buster came to life with a jump, and let out a loud:
"B-r-r-r! Whoof!"
The ground seemed to tremble as he struggled to his feet, and swung his huge paws at the bee. But the bumblebee, having accomplished its purpose, calmly flew away. Buster rubbed his smarting nose, and growled angrily.
Suddenly he caught sight of Bumper grinning at him. He stopped rubbing his nose to stare and blink at the white rabbit. Bumper, now that he was discovered, ceased grinning, and began to feel afraid.
"You think it very funny, don't you?"growled Buster, his little eyes flashing. "I wish he'd stung you instead of me. Drat the old bumblebees! I wonder what they're made for!"
"I'm sure I couldn't tell you," replied Bumper, in an unsteady voice.
"What do you suppose you're made for?" continued Buster, eyeing him queerly.
"Why—to—make little boys and girls happy, I suppose," Bumper stammered.
Buster grinned at this stammering remark. Then, with a leer, he added: "No, that isn't the reason. It's something else. Want me to tell you?"
"Why, yes, I'd like to know."
"Well, then, it's to give Mr. Fox right back of you a good meal."
Bumper gave a jump of nearly three feet when he heard this. He didn't suppose the fox was anywhere near, and the thought that he was right behind, ready to spring upon him, sent the blood racing through his body. But when he turned, expecting to see dripping jaws about to close upon his neck, he was surprised and then puzzled. There was no fox in sight. However, he wasn't to be deceived, if Mr. Fox was hiding, and he stood ready to spring away, his body quivering with fright, and his pink eyes dilated.
"Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed Buster the Bearin a deep rumble, rolling over on his fat sides. "Ho! Ho! Ho! What a scare I gave you! Now we're quits. The joke's on you!"
It took Bumper some time to realize that it was only a joke, and not a near tragedy for him. Finally he turned a shamed, embarrassed face toward Buster, and grinned good-naturedly.
"The next time I see any one in trouble," he said, "I won't laugh at him, Mr. Bear. You've taught me a good lesson."
"Well, that's what I call taking a joke in the proper spirit," smiled Buster. "I'm sorry I gave you such a shock."
"And I'm sorry I laughed when the bee stung your nose."
"Oh, as for that, I didn't mind the sting so much as the interruption of my sleep." Buster rubbed his nose as he spoke. Then he added, addressing the white rabbit:
"Where are you bound? You must be lost. I never saw a white rabbit out of the city before."
"Were you ever in the city?" asked Bumper, eagerly.
"Sure! I was in the Zoo for a whole year until I escaped."
"Then you know something how I feel. The country's very strange to me, and I feel a bitlonesome. Could you tell me where my country cousins live—the wild rabbits?"
"Yes," replied Buster, "but I'm not sure they'll welcome your coming. However, you can find them by following that trail a little further until you come to a big rock. They live under it where Mr. Fox can't get them."
"Thank you," replied Bumper. "I think I'll be going, then. I must find them before night."
STORY XVBUMPER FINDS HIS COUNTRY COUSINS
After leaving Buster the Bear, Bumper did not have far to go before he stumbled upon the rock under which the wild rabbits had their burrow. It was a big, towering rock right in the middle of the woods, with trees trying to grow on top of it, and under it, as if they were determined to lift it and roll it away.
When the white rabbit first saw it his heart beat high with expectation. This was to be the end of his journey. When he found it impossible to get back to the garden where the red-headed girl lived, he concluded the best he could do was to join the wild rabbits and live with them. They would teach him the ways of the woods, and perhaps, in time he would be happy and content as a member of their family.
In spite of the dangers and ventures that had marked his progress, he was greatly pleased with the woods, and the freedom he enjoyed appealed to him. But to make his happiness complete he needed companions and friends of his own kind.
The friendship of the birds was all right, but they had their own families to look after, and besides, he could not always depend upon having them near.
It was natural that he should be a bit homesick and lonely without other rabbits to associate with. He often thought of Jimsy and Wheedles, and of his mother and of Topsy. Any one of them would be welcome. In his newly-acquired knowledge of the woods and its inhabitants, he felt that he could give Jimsy and Wheedles pointers that would make their eyes open.
When he reached the big rock, he hopped all around it, looking for the entrance to the rabbit burrow, and sniffing the ground expectantly. There were many signs that rabbits had recently been there, but he could find nothing that looked like a burrow. Around and around the big rock he hopped, sniffing, pounding with his hind feet, and calling to his cousins. But there was no response.
"Perhaps they're all out," he reflected finally, "and I'd better rest on the top of the rock until they return."
He scrambled to the summit of the rock and sprawled out full length to watch and wait. From his high position, he could see any one approaching from any direction. The sun foundits way down through the trees and lit up the top of the rock, and, feeling very tired, Bumper fell asleep.
He was aroused from this suddenly by the breaking of a twig near-by. He raised his head and looked around. Not a dozen feet away from him was a wild rabbit, one of his country cousins. Now, Bumper had never met a wild rabbit before, and this one certainly looked very dirty and uncouth compared to himself. The only white he had was under his throat and belly. The rest of him was a dull gray and brown.
"Hello, Cousin!" Bumper called softly.
The approaching rabbit stopped and looked around, his two ears raised straight up in the air. Then his quick eyes saw Bumper on the top of the rock. Whether he took him for a ghost or some strange, dangerous animal, no one could say; but he turned swiftly and disappeared in the bushes.
"Don't be afraid, Cousin!" Bumper called loudly. "I'm Bumper the White Rabbit, and I've come to visit you!"
But this had no effect whatever on the wild rabbit. Bumper could hear him scurrying away in the bushes. Then all was quiet. For a long time Bumper watched and waited. Once he caught a glimpse of his cousin on the right of therock, then on the left, then behind, and again in front. The amazing rapidity with which the wild rabbit changed his position surprised Bumper.
It was not until after he had caught sight of two heads simultaneously peeping above the bushes did he realize that the rabbit was not alone. Then he caught sight of a third head, then of a fourth, and of a fifth. The whole burrow of rabbits was circled around him, watching him either in fear or curiosity. Bumper thought it was a good time to make a speech.
"Cousins," he began, rearing upon his hind legs, "I've come a long distance to visit you. I've always lived in the city, but I got lost, and if it hadn't been for the birds and Buster the Bear I would never have found my way here. I hope you will welcome me, and let me live with you. I'm lonesome and homesick for friends and companions."
He supposed this speech would have a good effect, and he waited eagerly for one of the wild rabbits to respond. But they were quiet for so long that he felt despondent. Then, to his surprise, a big rabbit rose near-by, and turned to his companions.
"Beware!" he said. "It's a trick of Mr. Fox! We must run for it altogether!"
Bumper didn't know just what the speaker meant by this last sentence. But he soon found out. There was a rush and scramble in the bushes all around him, and then a dozen or more rabbits appeared. They came toward the rock like an army closing in upon the enemy, leaping over bushes or crawling through the underbrush.
For a moment Bumper was startled. He had a vision of being attacked on all sides by his country cousins and driven ignominiously from the woods. But his anxiety was of short duration. The rabbits reached the side of the rock, and disappeared as if by magic.
Then Bumper understood. They had made a simultaneous rush for their burrow, knowing that this was the safest place for them. When the last rabbit had disappeared, Bumper hopped down, and began looking for the entrance. There was certainly an entrance to the burrow, or his cousins couldn't have disappeared so quickly.
Bumper searched on every side for over an hour, but so artfully concealed was the entrance to the burrow that he was unsuccessful. There was no noise under the rock—nothing to indicate that there were rabbits there.
Discouraged and down-hearted, he was nearly ready to give up when he happened to poke hishead in the hollow end of a tree whose roots were pinioned down by the huge rock. The small heart of the trunk had decayed, offering an entrance just large enough for a rabbit to squeeze through.
Bumper thought this would be a safe place for him to spend the night, and he began crawling through. The hole followed the trunk of the tree downward for some distance. Then suddenly it turned sharply to the right.
At this point Bumper met an unexpected challenge. A big, gray rabbit at the other end of the hollow trunk thumped hard with his two hind feet, and instantly there was an uproar. Bumper had accidentally found his way into the burrow through the hollow tree trunk!
"Stop where you are!" the rabbit guarding the hole shouted. "What do you want in here?"
"I want to greet my cousins. If you don't let me come in Mr. Fox will catch me after dark. I have no other home."
"You're not a rabbit!" replied the other. "We have no white cousins. There're no white rabbits in the world."
"But I'm one," returned Bumper, amused by the same cry that had been made by the crow and birds.
There was silence inside, followed by a buzzof many voices. Finally a weak, trembling voice said authoritatively:
"Admit him! It can't be Mr. Fox in disguise, for he could never crawl through that hole. Admit him so I can talk to him."
Evidently the speaker was one in authority, for the other instantly obeyed, and Bumper was allowed to hop through the hole into the burrow.
STORY XVIBUMPER BECOMES THE WHITE KING OF THE RABBITS
What Bumper saw and smelt when he hopped into the burrow under the rocks made a great impression upon his mind. It was a large burrow directly under the huge rock, with no other entrance to it than the one through the hollow tree trunk. No wonder the fox couldn't reach the rabbits! They were as well protected from him as if they lived in a house of stone.
There were all sizes of rabbits around him—little ones scarcely able to hop around without falling over, big, husky fellows with fierce looking muzzles and eyes, and very old ones who seemed too feeble to move very fast. But it was the one who had commanded the others to let Bumper in that attracted his attention the most.
He had been a big, stalwart rabbit at one time, and his frame was still large and angular, but age had shrunken his body and haunches, and his cheeks were thin and wrinkled. The eyes stared straight at Bumper as though they would go right through him. It was not until laterthat Bumper understood it was blindness that made that stare seem so penetrating.
"Tell me your name again!" this old patriarch said when Bumper stood trembling before him.
"Bumper the White Rabbit!"
The old one hopped nearer, using one of his companions as a guide.
"Is it true," he asked finally, turning to the others, "that he's white?"
"Yes," they all responded in chorus.
"No gray or brown hairs on him?"
"No gray or brown hairs on him."
"Be sure!" commanded the old leader. "Lick them to see if the gray shows underneath."
Several obeyed this order, and Bumper felt as if he was being washed all over, so vigorously did the tongues of his cousins lick him to discover any fraud.
"He still remains white," one of the rabbits said finally. "There are no gray or brown hairs underneath."
"That is well!" ejaculated the blind leader. "Now tell me the color of his eyes."
"Pink!" they cried.
"Ah!" The blind rabbit seemed suddenly excited and trembled with emotion. "Pure white, you say, and pink eyes! Is he a young rabbit, or very, very old?"
"He is young, no older than Piggy."
"Then it must be true," murmured the old blind patriarch. "It must be true."
The others were all quiet, and waited for their wise, blind leader to speak again. This he did after a long pause.
"Years ago," he began slowly, "there was a white rabbit who was sent to us as a leader. He was the wisest and shrewdest and bravest of our kind. Where he came from no one knew. We made him king, and he ruled wisely and well for many years. He died before I was born, and that you know was a long time ago. Before he died he told us that some day another white rabbit, with pink eyes, would come to us, and his coming would be as strange and unknown as his."
The speaker stopped and seemed to weigh his words. All the rabbits held their breaths, and glanced from the blind leader to Bumper.
"When he came—this white rabbit, with pink eyes—we were to receive him and make him our king and leader. His wisdom would be greater than that of all ours combined, and in time he would deliver us from our enemies. You know how it is with us in the woods here. We're the meekest and most innocent of the wild animals. Even the birds prey upon us at times, and Mr. Fox and Buster the Bear hold us in contemptbecause we cannot defend ourselves. We would live on friendly terms with all the wild creatures of the woods, but they won't let us."
He sighed, and then continued: "Our only weapon is our teeth, but we never use them except to chew our food. Yet they are as sharp as those of the Squirrel, and nearly as long as those of the Fox. Yet we don't know how to use them in defence, or if we do we're too timid to attempt it. We're cowardly, and easily get frightened so that our enemies kill us without danger to themselves. They all hold us in contempt here in the woods."
This remarkable speech made many of the rabbits drop their heads in dejection, for the truth of it was all too well known to them.
"But this new leader and king was to deliver us from our fear and timidity," the blind speaker continued. "He was to show us how we could make friends with all through his wisdom and foresight. We have been waiting for him for many, many years, and now that he has come we should be glad and joyful. Let us do homage to Bumper the White Rabbit, for he is our new leader and king! I am happy to live to see the day come when I could welcome him! My only regret is that age has blinded me, and I cannotsee him with my own eyes. I could die in peace then!"
With that the blind, old rabbit humbled himself before Bumper and kissed one of his paws. This apparently was the signal for all the others to do likewise. They came to him in turn, and promised to follow and obey his word, secretly admiring his white fur and pink eyes.
To Bumper this sudden change of hostility to abject admiration and worship was embarrassing. His mind was all in a whirl, and when the others knelt before him and kissed his paw he could find no words to say. He simply smiled as graciously as he could, and accepted the homage in silence.
Without knowing it this was the correct thing to do. It was more impressive than if he had protested or tried to explain that there was a mistake. He was almost king-like in his attitude without trying to be so.
It all seemed like a dream to him. He was led away to the choicest sleeping part of the burrow, and attendants brought him food and drink. There was always some one to wait on him no matter what he wanted to do. It was slightly embarrassing at first, but, as the novelty of it wore off he accepted the situation with a smile.
"If they take me for their king, why not act the part?" he asked himself. "I believe I coulddo it. I certainly look more like a king than any of the others. And I'm prettier than any of my cousins."
Bumper was in danger of getting intolerably conceited, and for a time he showed it; but his better sense came to his rescue finally.
"If I'm going to be their king and leader," he concluded, "I'll try to be a wise and good one. I'll not disappoint them. I'll listen to Mr. Blind Rabbit, and when I know all he does I'll try to use the knowledge for the good of all the rabbits in the woods."
So Bumper the White Rabbit did not regret his loss of the red-headed girl and the beautiful garden, for in becoming the king of the wild rabbits he had a greater career before him, and how well he acquitted himself in that position we shall see in future stories, in the book entitled
"Bumper the White Rabbit in the Woods."
White Tail Jumps Stepping Stone Brook
White Tail grew rapidly in size and strength, his long, clean limbs showing taut muscles and great springing power; and his neck grew thick and short, which is well for a buck, who must use it in savage thrusts when the head is a battering ram. His horns were short and bony, but they protruded in front like knobs against which it would be unpleasant to fall.
But his antlers were his pride. They spread out fan-shape on his head, crowning it with a glory that made Mother Deer supremely happy. At times it seemed as if the antlers were too heavy for the head and neck, but White Tail carried them easily, and when he shook them in sport or anger any one could see they were just fitted to him.
In time he stood as high as Father Buck, and a head taller than Mother Deer. The day the tip of his antlers reached an inch above Father Buck's, he felt a little thrill of pride.