One day Browny the Muskrat had burrowed so deep into the ground back of the river that his tunnel had caved into the rabbit burrow of Rolly Polly, and if it had not been for the quick work of Rolly Polly some of his children would have been drowned. The water from the river poured in right after Browny and the burrow was quickly flooded.
Now Rolly Polly had never forgiven Browny for that accident, the more so because Browny had laughed at the plight of the rabbits instead of apologizing. Of course, it was an accident, but Browny couldn’t understand why rabbits objected to a little water. So far as he was concerned, he preferred to swim around in underground tunnels filled with water than crawling through dry ones.
So there had always been ill feeling between the rabbits and Browny the Muskrat. It was one of those little quarrels between friends that lasts a long time, and often ends in trouble. It was such a senseless quarrel, too! Browny hadn’t intended it, and he should have said so. Rolly Polly may have suspected it was an accident, but as Browny didn’t apologize he was angry, and wouldn’t speak to any of the Muskrats again.
Bumper knew of this ancient quarrel, but as he had been busy with other things he hadn’t paid much attention to it. He had never spoken to Browny or any of his people. It wasn’t the proper thing to do, you know.
One day Bumper was eating grass near the marshy end of the river, where the big cattails and rushes grow tall and slender, when he saw Browny sitting on a bog watching him. He had just emerged from the water, and was all wet and dripping. Bumper continued eating grass without paying any attention to him.
“What are you doing here, Bumper?” Browny called to him after a while. “This isn’t your feeding ground. This marsh belongs to my family.”
Bumper stopped nibbling and looked at Browny in astonishment. “I didn’t know that the marsh belonged to any one in particular,” he replied.
“Well, it does, and now you know it,” answered Browny in an unfriendly voice. “Now get out of here!”
The tone of the voice as much as the command irritated Bumper, and a sharp reply sprang to his lips; but he checked it. He wasn’t going to offend by angry words.
“All right, Browny, if you say so, I’ll go,” he answered. Then, as an after thought, he added very politely: “And I’m sorry if I’ve trespassed upon your place. I won’t do it again.”
Browny was so surprised by this apology that he sat there a moment in silence and stared at the White Rabbit. Never before had a rabbit apologized to him. Indeed, whenever words passed between them, they were harsh and unfriendly. Then, instead of accepting the apology in a friendly spirit, he laughed, and said:
“Oh! Ho! You’re getting very polite all of a sudden, Bumper! Well, you can’t make friends with me that way. I don’t take any stock in soft words. Actions count with me more than polite words. No, I don’t think you will do it again. If you do you know what will happen to you!”
Bumper withdrew before the angry retort that rose to his lips could escape. He was very indignant. Browny was an ungrateful fellow. Well, he’d have nothing more to do with him or any of his tribe. Some day he might find a chance to get even with him. No, that would never do! He had decided to make friends and not enemies. He would forget it, but—
Suddenly he hopped about a foot in the air, so quickly that his sentence was never finished. What was it in the marshy ground at his feet? He had touched something hard and cold that jangled when he tripped against it. For a moment he stood ready to fly, but on second thought he decided he would investigate, for the thing, whatever it was, hadn’t moved. It still lay coiled up in the grass.
Bumper approached it carefully and smelt of it, and then laughed at his fright. It was a long chain, which for a moment had seemed to him like Killer the Snake coiled up in the grass. One end was fastened to a stake, and the other—
Horror of Horrors! It was attached to a trap, a steel spring trap, concealed right in the mouth of Browny’s hole. Some one had set the trap there to catch Browny or one of his family. Forgetting all his anger, Bumper ran back, and shouted.
“Browny! Browny!” he cried. “I’ve found something!”
“Well, leave it where it is,” replied Browny, stroking his whiskers. “Findings aren’t keepings around here.”
“But it’s a trap, Browny,” added Bumper. “I thought you’d want to know.”
“Oh, traps don’t bother me. The Hunters have been setting them for me as long as I can remember. But I’m too shrewd for them. They can’t catch me.”
“But this one is—”
“Oh, go on!” Browny interrupted. “I ordered you off my place once. Must I do it again?”
Bumper made no reply. He had done all that he could in warning Browny of the danger. Now the risk was his. He wouldn’t put himself out again to help a Muskrat.
But once again that little conscience of his bothered him. After he had hopped away in the woods, he stopped to nibble at some young buds. “What if Browny was caught in the steel trap?” he asked himself. “It would be terrible! He would either starve to death or be killed. Oh, I wish he’d listened to me!”
But he kept right on eating. It wasn’t any of his concern. But curiously enough he ate toward the marsh, and not away from it, until once more he stood on the very edge. He seemed surprised at this, but after all he knew all the time he was eating toward it.
He looked around. Browny was no longer in sight. Perhaps he had gone into the water again. Bumper sat there and listened, with his neck stretched up to look over the tall grasses.
Then suddenly a muffled squeaking reached his ears. Where did it come from, and who was making it? He looked all around him in vain, and then he thought of the trap.
He hopped through the reeds and rushes until he came to it. Yes, there was the long chain, and the stake, but there was something at the other end, for the chain kept twitching and pulling. And out of Browny’s hole came a faint, muffled cry.
“Help! Help! Oh, won’t somebody help me?”
“What’s the matter, Browny?” Bumper asked.
“My tail’s caught in the trap, and I can’t get out or in. I’m held fast in the hole. Oh, I’ll die here if somebody doesn’t help me before the Hunters come.”
“Wait a minute!” shouted Bumper. “I think I can get you out.”
Seizing the chain with his teeth, he threw himself back on his haunches, and began pulling with all his might. It was a mighty tug of war, for besides pulling the chain and steel trap out of the hole he had to pull Browny, too. He pulled and pulled, slipping in the mud, and getting all covered with it until he was no longer white. But the chain was coming, and so was the trap.
Suddenly it popped out, and right after it came Browny. The teeth of the trap had caught the tip of his tail. With the last jerk this slipped out of the trap, and Browny was free. He switched his long tail, and looked at it, but as he hadn’t lost any of it he was greatly relieved. Then he turned to the rabbit.
“Bumper,” he said, “that was a fine thing to do after the way I insulted you. If you can forgive me I’m always going to be your friend. You really saved my life, for the Hunters will soon be here.”
“That’s all right, Browny,” was the reply. “I want to be your friend.”
In the next story you will hear of how Bumper made friends with Billy the Mink.