CHAPTER IV
“WHY DOES A RABBIT WABBLE HIS NOSE?”
How Buddie came to be whisked away from Beavertown to a part of the wood that, so far as she could tell, she had never seen before, remains to this day a mystery.
“It was the echo,” she said, in telling me the tale; “you just couldn’t help looking up.” Certainly it must have been a remarkable echo; and although it does not explain the matter entirely to my satisfaction, it is as convincing as any explanation I can offer. But, to go on with the story:
The Rabbit continued to regard himself in his mirror, wabbling his nose the while, until Buddie wondered whether he intended to keep it up all day. But at last he dropped the glass, which was suspended on a cord about his neck, and remarked, with a little sigh:
“It’s no use. I _can’t_ make it out.”
[Illustration]
Buddie feared to move lest she send him scampering off; rabbits were such timid creatures--that is, all the rabbits she had ever come upon before. Still, she wished to talk with him about his funny nose; so she coughed softly to attract his attention. This is an old trick and usually succeeds. The Rabbit turned his head, saw Buddie and exclaimed hurriedly, with a friendly smile:
“Don’t be alarmed, my dear!”
Buddie laughed outright.
“The idea of being afraid of a rabbit!” said she.
“Why not?” demanded the Rabbit, in a tone of offended dignity. “Size isn’t everything.”
“But rabbits are such scary little things,” Buddie started to say, when the Rabbit interrupted her.
“I’m not afraid of anybody,” he declared with a little swagger. He emphasized the last word so significantly, and it sounded so like “any Buddie,” that Buddie hastened to say:
“I didn’t know rabbits were so brave. I thought--”
“Never mind what you thought,” said the Rabbit, curtly. “It doesn’t help matters a bit. Always speak twice before you think; then you won’t make mistakes. Nearly all mistakes are caused by hasty thinking. Didn’t you ever hear the expression, Bold as a rabbit?”
Buddie shook her head.
“I’ve heard about, Bold as a lion,” she replied.
The Rabbit sniffed.
“Lions? What are they?” he asked.
“I don’t believe there are any around here,” answered Buddie.
“I don’t believe there _are_, either,” said the Rabbit, with a self-satisfied smile. “But if there were I should teach them their place fast enough. The expression, Bold as a rabbit, is common enough--as common as, Wise as a goose, or, Silly as an owl, or, Fast as a snail, or, Sleepy as a weasel--and it’s a wonder you never heard it. Why, the word ‘hare-brained,’ or ‘rabbit-brained,’ means, bold to the point of recklessness.”
“Well,” thought Buddie, “if this isn’t the queerest place anybody ever got into. Dogs sing, beavers are lazy, and rabbits are bold as lions. Everything seems to be upside down. What next, I wonder? I suppose,” she said aloud, “your name is Mr. Bunny Cotton-Tayle.”
The Rabbit bowed.
“And your name?” he asked politely.
“Buddie--just Buddie.” She was afraid he might ask, “Which Buddie?” as the Laziest Beaver had asked.
The Rabbit again consulted his mirror, and inquired carelessly, as one inquires who does not expect information:
“You don’t happen to know, I suppose?”
“Why you wabble your nose?”
“Precisely.”
“No,” confessed Buddie. “And I think it’s funny _you_ can’t tell.”
“I don’t see anything funny in it,” said the Rabbit.
“I mean strange.”
“Or strange. Why is a watermelon bald-headed, while a carrot has whiskers? Answer me that!”
“I don’t know,” Buddie again confessed.
“Did you ever ask a watermelon?”
“Of course not. That’s perfectly ’diculous. Who ever heard of a watermelon talking? But still,” Buddie added to herself, “if a rabbit can talk, why shouldn’t a watermelon?”
“Well, ask a watermelon sometime,” said the Rabbit; “or ask a carrot. Neither of them knows, any more than a dog knows when he’s hot.”
“I’m sure a dog knows when he’s hot,” objected Buddie.
“How do you know when _you’re_ hot?” demanded the Rabbit, with a this-is-where-I-trip-you-up twinkle in his eye.
“Why, I get hot--I mean I get all sweaty and have to wipe my face and neck.”
“Exactly,” said the Rabbit. “You know when you’re hot because you sweat. But a dog doesn’t sweat and can’t sweat. There! What do you say to that?”
“If my dog Colonel were here,” said Buddie, “I’m sure _he_ could tell me.”
“Couldn’t,” declared the Rabbit. “Told me so himself, many a time. Haven’t you noticed that on the hottest day a dog will race round and run after sticks and stones and go on like mad until he simply drops from exhaustion? Now, if he could tell when he was hot, as you can, he would stop long before he gave out. That sort of thing is very wearing on a dog. That’s why he doesn’t live longer.”
As Buddie had no suitable reply ready the Rabbit continued:
“No, Buddie--I believe you said your name was Buddie?” Buddie nodded. “It’s so like my own--Bunny. No, Buddie, there are some things about ourselves we can’t explain, just as there are some things that are perfectly clear. For instance, I know why I can not run very far in a straight line, but have to zigzag.”
“Do tell me!” cried Buddie, greatly interested.
“The reason is, my hindlegs are twice as long as my forelegs. After I run a little way my hindlegs overtake my forelegs, and if I were to keep on I should be going the other way, which would be extremely awkward, don’t you think?”
“I should think it _would_ be,” murmured Buddie, to whom the explanation was by no means clear.
“Why, once when I started for home I was in such a hurry I forgot to zigzag, and before I realized it I was twice as far from home as when I set out. So when I am chasing a fox or a panther I have to make up in speed what I lose in ground. But as for this nose-wabbling,”--the Rabbit again consulted his pocket mirror and sighed deeply--“_that_ gets me. I give it up. Even Doctor Goose, who knows everything--or almost everything--can’t explain _that_.”
“The Laziest Beaver said you were going up to The Well to find the answer,” remarked Buddie, who was very curious to find out what sort of well it was.
“Yes; I am going up to The Well,” replied the Rabbit. “But I am not the only one that wishes to learn something. The Guinea-Pig wants to know why his eyes fall out when you hold him up by the tail.”
“But a guinea-pig hasn’t any tail,” said Buddie, who had owned one, and was quite sure it didn’t have a sign of a tail.
“I don’t know what sort of guinea-pigs you are in the habit of associating with,” said the Rabbit; “but all of my acquaintance have tails, and good long ones. Why shouldn’t a guinea-pig have a tail? A guinea-_hen_ has.”
“I don’t know why it shouldn’t, but I know it _hasn’t_,” Buddie persisted.
“Well, here comes the Guinea-Pig now,” said the Rabbit; “and if that isn’t a tail he’s wearing, I don’t know a tail when I see it.”
Buddie looked around and saw, almost at her feet, the dearest Guinea-Pig imaginable. She gave a cry of delight and stretched out her hand to caress it, just as she used to caress her own pet before it fell victim to a foraging fox.
[Illustration]
Now, Buddie did not mean to do it, but it came about in this way: startled by her exclamation, the Guinea-Pig turned and made off; Buddie reached forward eagerly, caught him, and lifted him up--by the tail!
Instantly his eyes fell out.
“There! You’ve done it!” cried the Rabbit.
“I wish people wouldn’t pick me up by the tail,” sobbed the Guinea-Pig. He couldn’t weep, you see, because his eyes were out.
“Oh, you poor thing!” cried Buddie. And getting down on her hands and knees, she began hunting for the little creature’s eyes, which had rolled under the leaves.