Little Jack Rabbit and the Squirrel Brothers, page 3
Well, after a while, all of a sudden, he heard a great chickering and chirring overhead. Around and around the trunk of the tree went two bodies, one a yellowish brown, about as large as a cat, and the other gray, with a long bushy tail.
Up to the top they went as fast as lightning, around and around, corkscrew fashion, and then down they came to the ground and before his yellowish brown enemy could catch him, Twinkle Tail dashed into a crack between two stones.
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PROFESSOR JIM CROW’S LESSON
“I’m so glad Twinkle Tail got away,” said Little Jack Rabbit to himself, as the frightened gray squirrel squeezed in between the rocks. And then the little rabbit hopped away as fast as he could, and pretty soon he saw Professor Jim Crow with his little Black Book in his claw.
“Tell me, Professor Jim Crow,” said the little rabbit, “what is the name of the yellowish-brown animal that chases little gray squirrels around and around the trunks of trees?”
“How big was he?” asked the wise old bird, putting on his spectacles and turning over the leaves of his little Black Book.
“Larger than the farmer’s black cat,” answered the little rabbit.
“Did it look something like a fox?” asked the old crow.
“Yes, he did,” replied the little rabbit.
Professor Jim Crow smiled and turned to page 49. “Listen!” he said. “The Marten looks very much like a young fox about two months old. Its color is a yellowish-brown, a little darker than a yellow fox, with a number of long black hairs. It is a great climber, hunts squirrels and robs birds’ nests.”
Then the wise old crow closed his book and wiped his spectacles. “You have learned something to-day, little rabbit. Mother Nature’s School House will teach you lots of things,” and the old professor bird flew away.
“I’m the Hollow Stump Telephone Booth.”
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“Well, I’m going to have a good time now,” thought the little rabbit to himself. “I’ve learned my daily lesson. I’ll call up Uncle John.” So off he hopped to the Hollow Stump Telephone Booth.
“What number do you want?” asked the telephone girl who was a little wood-mouse.
“One, two, three, Harefield,” answered the little rabbit, and in less than five hundred short seconds, he heard his Uncle’s voice over the wire.
“Goodness gracious meebus!” exclaimed Mr. John Hare, “I thought you’d forgotten all about your old uncle. Where are you?”
“I’m in the Hollow Stump Telephone Booth,” answered the little rabbit.
“I’ll come right over to the Old Bramble Patch,” said Uncle John, and the old gentleman hare dropped the receiver on his left hind toe he was so excited. You see, he hadn’t heard from his little bunny nephew for so long that he supposed he had enlisted in Uncle Sam’s Army or Aunt Columbia’s Navy! Well, anyway, as soon as the little rabbit had paid the little wood-mouse five carrot cents, he hopped home to tell his mother that Uncle John Hare was coming over to supper.
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TO THE POST OFFICE
“Billy Breeze, please blow no more
The leaves around the kitchen door.
It takes my time till ten fifteen
To make the doorstep nice and clean,”
said Little Jack Rabbit the next morning after he had polished the front doorknob and fed the canary and filled the woodbox in the kitchen with kindling wood.
Oh, my, yes, he was a busy little rabbit. He had to help his mother in lots of ways, especially when Uncle John Hare was making a visit at the Old Bramble Patch.
Well, when the little rabbit had done all these things, his mother asked him to go down to the post office and buy her three War Savings Stamps and the Rabbitville Gazette for Uncle John, who had a touch of rheumatism in his left hind toe and didn’t feel like hopping around, but preferred to sit in an armchair on the back stoop where it was warm and sunny.
Now, as Little Jack Rabbit hopped along, he met Chippy Chipmunk under the Big Chestnut Tree, so of course he stopped and said good morning.
“Where are you going?” asked the little Chipmunk. And when he found out, he took two twenty-five carrot cent pieces out of his pocket and asked the little rabbit to buy him two Thrift Stamps.
“All right,” said the little bunny, dropping the two quarters in his knapsack, and by and by, not so very far, he met Squirrel Nutcracker.
“Where are you going?” asked the old gray squirrel.
“Down to the Post Office,” answered the little rabbit.
“Will you buy me a dollar’s worth of Thrift Stamps, please,” said Squirrel Nutcracker. So the little rabbit tucked the lettuce dollar bill in his waistcoat pocket and hopped along. And pretty soon, not so very far, he met Busy Beaver. He was plastering the top of his little mud house and was dreadfully busy, but when he heard where Little Jack Rabbit was going, he put his little muddy paw in his pocket and took out a fifty cent piece.
“Please buy me two Thrift Stamps, I’ve no time to go to the village. I must finish my house before the frost comes.”
The little rabbit put the fifty cent piece in his knapsack and hopped along, and by and by Parson Owl, who sat winking and blinking in his Hollow Tree House, called out to the little rabbit as he hopped over the dry leaves:
“Hey, there! Where are you going?”
“Down to the Post Office to buy stamps!”
“Will you buy me ten dollars’ worth if I give you the money?” asked the winky, blinky old owl. Goodness me; it will take another story to tell what happened after that.
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MORE STAMPS
Now let me see. We left little Billy Bunny on his way to the Post Office to buy Thrift Stamps and the Rabbitville Gazette. And, oh dear me! I’m all mixed up. I can’t remember whether Timmy Chipmunk gave the little rabbit ten dollars or whether Old Parson Owl did. Or whether the Squirrel Brothers wanted two stamps, or whether it was Busy Beaver who wanted three, or maybe four and perhaps five. Oh dear me again!
But never mind. I guess the little rabbit wasn’t mixed up, for he hopped along as happy as you please, and just before he came to Rabbitville, he heard a voice in the treetops say:
“Where are you going, little Hoppity Hop,
You’re going so fast maybe you can’t stop.”
“Oh, yes, I can,” answered Little Jack Rabbit. “What do you want?”
“That depends on where you are going,” said Professor Jim Crow, for it was the old blackbird who had stopped the little rabbit, you see.
“I’m going to the Post Office to buy Mother Three Thrift Stamps and Uncle John the Rabbitville Gazette, and let me see. Oh, yes; oh, yes. Chippy Chipmunk gave me two quarters to buy him two Thrift Stamps, and Squirrel Nutcracker handed me a lettuce dollar bill to buy him four, and Busy Beaver gave me a fifty-cent piece to buy him two, and Parson Owl just now pinned in my inside pocket a ten-dollar lettuce bill to pay for forty stamps.”
“I wonder what he wants so many stamps for?” said Professor Jim Crow. “Why doesn’t he buy a Liberty Bond?”
“Maybe he wants to give them away,” answered the little rabbit. “But I mustn’t stop—I must be going.”
“Wait, wait,” said Professor Jim Crow. “Here’s some money. Buy me ten Thrift Stamps,” and he handed over a two and one-half dollar lettuce bill. “Don’t lose the half,” added the wise old crow, and then he flew up into his old pine tree and cawed away right merrily. And after that the little rabbit hopped along and when he came to the Post Office, he went up to the little stamp window and asked the old maid grasshopper, who was the postmistress, you remember—but if you don’t, she was, just the same, for Bobbie Redvest told me so—if there were any letters. But there was only the Rabbitville Gazette done up in a pink wrapper and yellow two-cent stamp.
“Have you Thrift Stamps?” asked Bunny Boy. And when the lady grasshopper said yes, he told her just how many he wanted, for he could remember everything, you see, which is more than I can, let me tell you, unless I look back over this story. And after he had put the stamps carefully in his knapsack with little pieces of wax paper between so that they wouldn’t stick together, he started back for the Old Bramble Patch. And in the next story, if all those stamps don’t get angry and try to lick each other, I’ll tell you what happened after that.
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BUSY TIMES
When Little Jack Rabbit finally reached home with the stamps and the Rabbitville Gazette, he found his Uncle John singing at the piano this lovely song:
The Autumn leaves are falling
Along the Woodland ways,
In scarlet, brown and yellow coats
These cool November days.
They rustle by the Old Rail Fence,
They whisper in the lane,
Or from the shivering half-clad trees
They sing a sad refrain.
But Mrs. Rabbit was too busy putting up carrot preserves and lettuce pickles to even listen. All the little people of the Shady Forest and Sunny Meadow were getting ready for Winter.
The little feathered people were pruning their wings for a long flight to the warm Southland, and the four-footed folk were gathering nuts and grain for their storehouses.
The Squirrel Brothers had a bushel of nuts, and maybe more, laid away carefully in the old chestnut tree, and Chippy Chipmunk had filled his underground storeroom with nuts and corn.
Granddaddy Bullfrog was almost ready to dive into the Old Duck Pond to hide in the soft warm mud. Teddy Turtle, too, would soon find for himself a nice warm spot on the mud bottom of the mill pond before Jack Frost touched the water with his icy fingers.
And Mr. John Hare had telephoned to the Old Red Rooster to come over and put up Mrs. Rabbit’s storm-door and bank the cellar windows with dry leaves.
“Mother,” said Little Jack Rabbit, as he polished the brass doorknob, “I guess Jack Frost will soon be around.”
“Shouldn’t wonder,” she replied, “but who’s afraid of Jack Frost? Danny Fox and Mr. Wicked Weasel, to say nothing of Hungry Hawk, are more to be feared.” And that good lady rabbit began her ironing, for it was Tuesday, the day when all Rabbitville irons Monday’s wash, I’m told.
Just then Bobbie Redvest began to sing:
The summer time is over,
And all the golden hours,
No more the roses crimson bloom
Amid the garden bowers.
The little birds have left their nests
And now are strong of wing,
They will not build themselves a home
Until the lovely spring,
But fly away to Southern lands,
Where warmth and sunshine reign,
They cannot brave the winter wind,
The snow drifts in the lane.
And little four-foot furry folks
Will safely hide away,
And sleep until the winter’s past
And Spring has come to stay.
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AN ACCIDENT
Well, after Uncle John Hare had spent about a week at the Old Bramble Patch, he thought it time to go home. So he called up his house and ordered his Bunnymobile sent for him.
“Now don’t worry about Little Jack Rabbit,” he said to the anxious lady bunny, “I’ll take good care of him and send him home safe and sound.”
Then he put on his goggles while the little rabbit cranked up the Bunnymobile, and off they went.
You see, Uncle John was so fond of his little rabbit nephew that he just had to take him out for a drive.
But, goodness me. They had gone only a little way when they ran into a load of hay. And, oh dear me! It tumbled down on top of them and hid the Bunnymobile from sight. Wasn’t that dreadful?
Well, I don’t know what would have happened—they would have been smothered or had hay fever, I guess—if a big Circus Elephant hadn’t come hurrying along just then.
Well, sir! He wound his trunk around that pile of hay and put it back on the wagon. Then he dropped in his pocket the nickel the farmer gave him, but he wouldn’t take the carrot cent that grateful Uncle John offered him.
The Elephant Put the Hay Right Back on the Wagon.
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“I’m so nervous you’d better drive,” cried the old gentleman hare. So Little Jack Rabbit took the wheel and for a little while everything went along nicely. But pretty soon it grew dark, so the little rabbit hopped out to light the lamps. But when he struck a match he found that the lamps were smashed to pieces. You see, they had hit the back of the hay wagon.
“What shall we do?”
“Get in and go along the best you can,” answered the old gentleman hare. “We ought to be pretty near home by this time.” And I guess they would have reached his little red house in a few minutes if the Policeman Dog hadn’t stopped them.
“What do you mean by running your Bunnymobile without lights?” he growled. “I’ll fine you ten bones!”
“Make it carrots and I’ll pay you,” said Uncle John.
But the Policeman Dog wouldn’t take carrots. You see, he liked bones much better. Then he jumped on the running board and told them to drive to Station House No. 13.
But wasn’t it lucky? They had gone only a little way when they came to a butcher shop, where Uncle John traded ten carrots for ten bones. And when he gave them to the Policeman dog, he told them they might drive home slowly.
But, oh dear me. All of a sudden a big owl gave a hooty toot. No sooner did the two little rabbits hear that dreadful noise than they hopped out of the Bunnymobile and into a hollow stump. “You’ll be safe, now,” said a little grasshopper from her Clover Patch House, nearby.
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TWO PIGEONS
Well, I’m going to tell you right away that the two little rabbits got safely home, although they had to hide all night in the hollow stump from the old owl. But the grasshopper stayed in the clover patch and built a little house with a front-door latch.
Well, as soon as they had run the Bunnymobile in the garage, they went into the little red house, and had breakfast. After that was over Little Jack Rabbit said good-by and hopped off home to the Old Bramble Patch. And while he was hopping along who should come by but old Professor Jim Crow with his little Black Book.
“Helloa there, little rabbit,” said the wise old bird, and then he opened his little Black Book and, turning to page 23, he said:
“Let me read you something about pigeons.”
“Why?” asked the little bunny, wiggling his little pink nose so fast that old Professor Jim Crow’s eyes filled with tears, and he had to take off his spectacles and wipe them with his silk pocket handkerchief.
“Because,” answered the old crow, “two pigeons have made their home in the loft of your mother’s old barn.” Then he put on his spectacles again and commenced to read aloud:
“Pigeons always lay two eggs, and these produce a male and a female, so they are mated from birth, and, could they remain so, they would be the happiest of winged beings.”
And then the old professor closed his book and said, “Better hurry home and see the new pigeons.” So away hopped the little rabbit, clipperty clip, lipperty lip, over the Sunny Meadow until, by and by, after awhile, he came to the Old Bramble Patch. There stood his mother in the backyard. She had just placed a pan of water under a tree for the pigeons.
“Don’t make any noise,” she said, as the little rabbit drew near. Pretty soon Mr. Pigeon flew down to taste the water, and by and by Mrs. Pigeon fluttered down by his side.
“Cock-a-doodle-do,
Of pigeons we have two,
But some day there’ll be dozens more
A-cooing by the old barn door,”
sang the old Red Rooster who had come over from Uncle John’s to help Mrs. Rabbit weed the carrot patch.
After that she and her little bunny boy hopped up on the front porch to hear the canary bird in her gold cage sing:
“I wouldn’t be a pigeon
And live in an old red barn,
I’d rather be here when the weather is drear
And watch Mrs. Bunny darn.”
Which made the kind lady rabbit laugh, for she spent lots of time, let me tell you, darning the holes in her little bunny boy’s golf stockings.
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MISS PUSSY
The pumpkins in the cornfield
Are as yellow as can be,
And the apples, red and golden,
Are hanging on the tree,
The grapes in purple clusters
Are swinging on the vine,
And the old crow’s nest is empty
Upon the lonely pine.
“Ha, ha,” shouted Little Jack Rabbit, as Billy Breeze blew across the Sunny Meadow, and, let me tell you, Billy Breeze was just a little bit chilly, this cool November morning.
“I wonder what I’ll do,” thought the little rabbit, and he wiggled his little pink nose sideways, and then off he went, clipperty clip, lipperty lip, and by and by he came to an old hollow stump. So he peeked in, and then, all of a sudden, a purring voice asked:
“What are you doing, Mr. Curious One?”
“Oh, I wasn’t doing anything wrong,” answered the little bunny. “I just wanted to see what was inside.”
“Well, I’ll show you,” answered the voice, and out popped a little black cat, with green eyes and a pink ribbon.
“Oh, it’s you, Miss Pussy,” laughed the little rabbit. “I’m glad it wasn’t a bear or a wildcat,” and he laughed some more and wiggled his little pink nose just for fun, you understand.
