Little Jack Rabbit and the Squirrel Brothers Part 7

And then, what do you suppose happened? Why, the Farmer's dog came by, and away went the little rabbit, and up went Miss p.u.s.s.y Cat's back, and her tail grew so big that had she tried to get back into the hollow stump I guess she would have had to leave her tail behind her! But she didn't. No sireemam. She just humped her back and meowed, and the Farmer's dog kept right on after Little Jack Rabbit, but of course he never caught him.

Well, as soon as the little bunny was safe in the Shady Forest, he looked about him, and pretty soon, not so very long, he saw Professor Jim Crow with his little Black Book under his wing.

"Read me something, won't you please," begged the little rabbit. So the old professor bird took out his book and turned over the pages until he came to "The early worm must look out for the bird."

"Ha, ha," laughed the little rabbit. "I must tell that to mother. She always tells it the other way 'round." Then off he hopped, and the old black bird flew away to his tree in Kalamazoo. For that was the name of the little village where Professor Crow has his home, and where he taught in the grammar school arithmetic and the Golden Rule, and sometimes Latin and sometimes Greek, and anything else that a bird can speak. Goodness me, if my typewriter hasn't made up this poetry all by itself. I wonder where it went to school.

A BUSY BEAVER

"Bunny Boy!" called Little Jack Rabbit's mother, oh, so early, as Mr.

Merry Sun climbed up the blue gray sky of the early morning, "Get up, little bunny!"

So the little rabbit hopped out of bed; and after he had combed his hair with a little chip, he ran downstairs to ask his mother about the early worm Professor Jim Crow had mentioned in the last story. After breakfast he hopped out on the Sunny Meadow and looked about him. Mr. Merry Sun was shining down on the frosty dew and Billy Breeze was very chilly, and the meadow gra.s.s brown and withered. It didn't look at all like the lovely Sunny Meadow.

"Oh, dear," sighed the little rabbit, "all the flowers are gone, and most of the birds have flown to the sunny South." Just then Professor Jim Crow flew by with his little Black Book under his wing:

"h.e.l.loa, there, little bunny, how are you this chilly day?" And then that old crow began to read out of his little book:

"Little rabbit's coat of brown Soon will turn to white.

Then among the snowy drifts He can hide from sight.

"You see how Mother Nature looks after you," said that wise old blackbird. "In the summer your coat is brown like the dry gra.s.s and brambles. But when winter comes it turns white so that you won't be seen so well against the snow."

Then away flew Professor Jim Crow to read his little Black Book to somebody else, and the little rabbit hopped along and by and by he came to the Bubbling Brook where the speckled trout swam in and out among the rocks and the little fresh water crabs played in the quiet pools. All of a sudden down fell a tree.

"There," said Busy Beaver, "I'll now have some logs to make a dam."

"Why do you want a dam? Do you want to spoil the Bubbling Brook?"

"It won't spoil the brook," answered the little beaver. "It will only make it deep so that when I build my house for the winter my front door won't freeze up tight."

"Oh, I see," said Little Jack Rabbit, and he wiggled his little pink nose sideways. "And how soon will you have it finished?"

"Oh, long before Old Mr. North Wind brings the snow," answered Busy Beaver.

Old Mr. North Wind On his Snow Horse, Swiftly is riding Down the golf course,

Over the meadow And up the steep hill, Shouting so hoa.r.s.ely; "Gid ap, there, Bill!"

DON'T WORRY

In the last story Little Jack Rabbit, of Old Bramble Patch, U. S. A., was talking to Busy Beaver, who was making a dam across the Bubbling Brook, you remember, to keep the water from freezing up his front door in the cold winter time.

"Every one is getting ready for the cold weather. It won't be long before my dam is finished and then I'll set to work and make my house of mud and sticks," and Busy Beaver jumped into the water with a flap of his broad tail and disappeared. So the little rabbit hopped along, and by and by he came to the cave where the Big Brown Bear made his home.

"h.e.l.loa!" said Little Jack Rabbit, as the Big Brown Bear looked out of his front door. "Winter time will soon be here."

"Oh, that doesn't worry me," said the Big Brown Bear.

"But what will you eat?" asked the little rabbit.

"When you're asleep you don't feel hungry. On a warm sunny day I may come out for a little while and find something to eat. I don't worry."

Worry never makes you fat, Instead, it makes you lean.

Never worry for a minute,-- Worry has the devil in it,-- Keep your mind serene.

And if you don't know what "serene" means, take your father's dictionary and look up, for the more words you know the wiser you'll grow.

"Well, I don't have to worry about the cold weather," laughed the little rabbit. "Mother Nature will give me a new white fur overcoat, and the Old Bramble Patch will keep the wind away, and the cabbage leaves which mother and I have stored away will last all winter." And then away he went to see more of his friends in the Shady Forest.

Well, by and by, after a while, he heard the honk of an automobile horn.

"I wonder whether that's Uncle John," and Little Jack Rabbit stopped and looked all around, and pretty soon, not very long, Mr. John Hare drove by in his Bunnymobile. He looked very fine in his polkadot handkerchief and gold watch and chain and a great big immense diamond horseshoe pin in his pink cravat. Oh, my, yes! Uncle John was quite a dandy. He was the best dressed Hare in Harebridge, and why shouldn't he be when you consider he was President of the bank and the Harum Scarum Club!

"h.e.l.loa, there, little nephew," he shouted.

"Hop in and take a ride with me, We'll take a spin for a mile or three, And maybe we'll come where the lollypops grow, Pink and yellow, all in a row."

THE LITTLE FROSTY PAINTER

There's a little frosty painter Who soon will come around To put a silver edging on The gra.s.ses on the ground, Upon the window pane he'll paint A fairy landscape, strange and quaint, And some cold morning you'll awake To find he's frosted Mother's cake.

Now can you guess who this little frosty painter is? Why, it's Jack Frost, the son of King Winter.

"Ha, ha," crowed the Weatherc.o.c.k on the Big Red Barn. "Jack Frost is here, for I can see the silver frost upon the gra.s.s in the Sunny Meadow," and then that gilded rooster turned his head to the North and blew on his gilt toes to keep them warm.

Pretty soon Old Sic'em walked out of his little dog house and shook himself. "Bow wow," he said, "it's a chilly morning."

"c.o.c.k-a-doodle-do," said c.o.c.ky Doodle, and then Henny Penny cackled loudly:

"I've laid an egg so white and clean 'Twould grace a breakfast for a queen.

But if a little girl should beg The farmer for my pretty egg, I'd tell him quick to let her go And take my egg as white as snow."

As the little hen finished her song, she noticed Little Jack Rabbit by the Old Rail Fence.

"h.e.l.loa, Mrs. Henny Penny," he said. "I like your song. If I see any poor little girl I'll tell her!" and then the little rabbit hopped away, for he just couldn't stay a moment in one place, let me tell you.

He wanted to be on the hop, skip and jump all the time, just like lots of little boys and girls I know.