Part 5

“No, Baby Bunty! It is getting late, and I have to stop at Mrs. Wibblewobble’s to get the sugar for Nurse Jane. You may come over again some other time.”

So, Baby Bunty said good night to Beckie Stubtail, and then the little rabbit girl and Uncle Wiggily started back through the dark woods.

“Aren’t you afraid?” asked Baby Bunty.

“Not a bit!” laughed Mr. Longears. He noticed that Bunty hopped close to his side, and did not run on ahead and want him to chase her, as she often did.

It did not take Uncle Wiggily and Baby Bunty long to get to the duck house, and there Mrs. Wibblewobble had the sugar wrapped up in a paper bag for them. Then, once more, Mr. Longears and Bunty started through the dark woods.

“Oh, what’s that?” suddenly asked the little rabbit girl, stopping and pointing ahead.

“Nothing but an old stump,” said Uncle Wiggily. “Come on!” They went along a little farther, and Baby Bunty all of a sudden cried:

“Oh, look! There’s a giant!”

“Nonsense!” laughed Uncle Wiggily. “That’s only a big rock that looks like a giant. Hop along!”

They hopped along a little farther, and, all at once, Baby Bunty gave a backward jump, bunked into Uncle Wiggily so hard that she burst the paper bag, letting the sugar spill out, and she cried:

“Oh, what’s that big, tall, white thing waving its arms at us on the path? Oh, Uncle Wiggily! What is it? What is it?”

Baby Bunty snuggled close up against the rabbit gentleman. Uncle Wiggily looked once, he looked twice and he looked three times at the white thing. Truly it did seem to be waving its arms in the dark. Then Uncle Wiggily laughed.

“Why, that is only a white birch-bark tree, Baby Bunty,” he said. “You mustn’t be afraid of a white birch tree. And I’m glad we came to this one. With some of the loose bark I can make a new bag for the sugar. And I’ll be glad to do it, for the sugar is running down my leg and it tickles like sand at the seashore.”

So Uncle Wiggily made a bag from the white birch bark, put the sugar in it, and he and Baby Bunty were soon safe in the hollow stump bungalow. And if the cough drop doesn’t fall off toadstool and tickle rice pudding under the chin when they’re in the moving pictures, I’ll tell you next about Uncle Wiggily and the little pond.

STORY XIX UNCLE WIGGILY AND THE LITTLE POND

Uncle Wiggily Longears, the bunny rabbit gentleman, was hopping along through Woodland near the Orange Ice Mountains, not far from Asbury Grove, where he had built his hollow stump bungalow. Mr. Longears was looking first on one side of the path and then on the other with his pink, twinkling nose.

I mean Uncle Wiggily had his pink nose with him; I don’t mean he was looking with it. Gracious, no! He looked with his eyes.

“Hello, Uncle Wiggily! Are you looking for an adventure?” asked Johnnie Bushytail, the squirrel boy, as he scampered up a hickory tree to see if any nuts were growing yet. But it was too early.

“No, I’m not exactly looking for an adventure,” spoke the bunny gentleman. “I want to find Baby Bunty, the little rabbit girl who used to live in a hollow stump.”

“Do you want her to chase you and play tag?” asked Johnnie.

“Indeed, I do not!” cried Uncle Wiggily. “Baby Bunty is too lively for me! She says she makes me chase her so I won’t get old and stiff. But it’s fun to be sort of restful like once in a while. Now I’m looking for Baby Bunty because Nurse Jane wants her to come and have her paws and face washed for supper. Have you seen her?”

“Do you mean Nurse Jane or Baby Bunty?” asked the squirrel boy, sort of joking like and comical.

“Baby Bunty, of course!” answered Uncle Wiggily. “I know where Nurse Jane is. She’s baking a strawberry long-cake in my hollow stump bungalow. But if you haven’t seen Baby Bunty I must hop along and look in other places.”

So Uncle Wiggily hopped along, and pretty soon he came to the shore of a large pond. On one bank of the pond were growing a number of tall plants, with thick, green leaves.

“Ha! Those are nice plants,” said Uncle Wiggily. “Perhaps they may have seen Baby Bunty pass this way.”

So, understanding the language of flowers, which is about the same as that which is talked by the leaves and vines, Uncle Wiggily asked the green plants if they had seen the little rabbit girl.

“No,” answered one large plant, “we haven’t seen Baby Bunty. We have been so busy trying to shake off a lot of bad, red, biting bugs, on our stalks and leaves, that we haven’t had a chance to look for any one. We wish we could drive the bugs away.”

“I can do that,” kindly offered Uncle Wiggily. “I will drive away the red bugs that are biting your thick, green, glossy leaves. I’ll knock them off with my red, white and blue striped rheumatism crutch.”

“Please do!” begged the plants growing on the edge of the big pond.

So Uncle Wiggily drove away the biting bugs by tapping on the green, thick-leaved plants with his crutch, and the plants thanked the rabbit gentleman very much.

“If we can ever do you or any of your friends a favor we shall be glad to,” they said.

Uncle Wiggily hardly thought a plant could ever do you a favor, but just you wait and see. On and on through the woods hopped the rabbit gentleman, until pretty soon he came to a cute little shady dingly dell, and there was Baby Bunty lying on the grass fast asleep. In one paw was her wooden doll—Sarah Jane Sassafras Ricepudding.

“Oh, Bunty! Wake up!” cried Uncle Wiggily. “Nurse Jane wants you to come home! It’s nearly supper time!”

Baby Bunty awakened with a start, rubbed her eyes, and then, holding her doll, Matilda Arabella Flapdoodle, in one paw, the little rabbit girl took hold of Uncle Wiggily’s coat tail and back to the hollow stump bungalow they started.

They had not gone very far, and they were hopping toward the big pond of water, when, all of a sudden, out from behind a stump popped the bad old Skuddlemagoon.

“Oh, ho! Now I have you!” cried the Skuddlemagoon.

Uncle Wiggily and Baby Bunty ran as fast as they could. So did the Skuddlemagoon. Pretty soon Uncle Wiggily and Baby Bunty came to the big pond.

“Oh, if only this pond were little now,” sighed Uncle Wiggily, “we could jump across it.”

“What good would that do?” asked Baby Bunty.

“Why, once on the other side, we would be safe from the Skuddlemagoon,” answered Uncle Wiggily. “The policeman dog lives on the other side of this pond. But, as it is now, it is too big for us to jump across, and if we have to run all the way around it the bad chap may catch us.”

And then, just as true as I’m telling you, all of a sudden the big pond began to shrink up. It shut its banks close together and became so little that Uncle Wiggily and Baby Bunty could easily jump across without getting wet.

All the way across the pond they jumped, and, when they were safe on the other side, the little pond suddenly stretched into a big one again and it was so large that the Skuddlemagoon couldn’t jump over.

“Oh, we’re safe, Uncle Wiggily!” cried Bunty. “We’re safe! But what made the big pond get little and then grow big again?”

“I don’t know,” answered Mr. Longears.

Then some voices spoke: “We made the big pond get little for you,” said the green stalks and leaves on the bank. “We shrank and also stretched the pond for you. We are rubber plants, you know, and rubber can stretch and shrink.”

That’s just how it happened. Weren’t those stretchy rubber plants good to Baby Bunty and Mr. Longears? And if the bluebell flower doesn’t ring so late in the morning that the alarm clock gets late for school, and can’t have any sawdust candy for recess, I’ll tell you next about Uncle Wiggily and the funny stump.

STORY XX UNCLE WIGGILY AND THE FUNNY STUMP

“Good-by, Uncle Wiggily! Good-by!” called Baby Bunty to Mr. Longears, the rabbit gentleman, one morning, as he stood on the front porch of his hollow stump bungalow.

“What’s that? ‘Good-by?’ Why, you aren’t going to leave me; are you?” cried Uncle Wiggily. “Are you going to leave me after I found you in the woods, and took care of you and—and all that!”

“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!”

[Illustration: [Uncle Wiggily]]

“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.