Little Jack Rabbit's big blue book

Goodness gracious me! That Billy Goat Stage Coach will be dreadfully crowded if Little Jack Rabbit invites many more friends to his circus party. Of course, when you come to think it over, the birds can perch on the roof and the little animals crawl under the seats; maybe one or two might sit with the stage coach driver, the nice Old Dog who smokes a big pipe while holding the reins in his left paw and the whip in his right. Oh, he’s a good driver, so kind and gentle that the billy goat team will do anything for him.

“Dear me, I mustn’t forget a single friend,” thought the little rabbit, as he hopped over the Bubbling Brook and across the Sunny Meadow to the Old Brush Heap.

Up the well-worn little path he hurried, clipperty clip, lipperty lip, to Cousin Cottontail’s little bungalow under the trailing green vines.

“Cousin Cottontail,” he shouted, “where are you?”

“We’re here,” came the answer, and out popped all the little cottontails, one after another—five in all, their pink noses twinkling like so many little stars.

“I’m giving a circus party to-morrow,” said Little Jack Rabbit. “Want to come?”

Gracious me! I don’t see why he thought it necessary to ask five little bunnies if they wanted to go to the circus!

“Of course we do,” they all shouted at once, which brought Mrs. Cottontail to the door to find out what all the noise was about.

“What time do you start?” she asked.

“At seven to-morrow morning. We all go in the Billy Goat Stage Coach,” explained Little Jack Rabbit. “Please be on time, for if we don’t get an early start we may not reach Turnip City in time to see the Grand Parade of all the Queer People.”

“We’ll be over bright and early,” promised Mrs. Cottontail. “Don’t you worry about us. Maybe some of your other friends will keep you waiting, but not your old auntie.”

Pretty soon she brought out an apronful of nice cookies, just hot out of the oven.

Oh, what a nice feast all the little rabbits had! Nor did they forget to save the crumbs for Bobbie Redvest, who happened to pass by later on.

“Well, I guess I must be going,” sighed Little Jack Rabbit, when the last cookie was gone. “Mother will worry if I’m late for supper.” And away he hopped, clipperty clip, lipperty lip, down the little path under the Big Brush Heap and across the Pleasant Meadow to the Bubbling Brook, over which he hopped to the Sunny Meadow. At last he was safe home in the dear Old Bramble Patch, eating a nice supper of stewed lollypops.

It seemed to him that he had hardly jumped into bed and fallen asleep when:

sang the cuckoo bird from her pretty clock house.

Out of bed hopped Lady Love and Mr. Rabbit; off came Grandma Bunny’s night cap, and in less time than I can take to tell it they were all dressed and in the kitchen, eating a breakfast of lollypop porridge, turnip tea and carrot cakes with maple syrup.

all of a sudden barked the Old Dog Driver atop the Billy Goat Stage Coach.

“Wait a minute,” begged Grandmother Magpie.

“I’m coming,” panted the Big Brown Bear.

“Here I am,” called out Granddaddy Bullfrog.

“I’m on time,” laughed Cousin Cottontail, with her five little bunnies hopping after her.

“Who said I was late?” cackled Henny Jenny.

“Good morning, I’m here,” said Turkey Tim.

“Is there room enough for me?” asked Timmie Meadowmouse.

“I’ll sit on top,” sang Bobbie Redvest.

“So will I,” said Squirrel Nutcracker.

“And that’s where I’ll sit,” said pretty Mrs. Oriole.

“I’m with you,” cawed Professor Jim Crow, seating himself with his family.

“Room for one more?” asked Ducky Waddles.

“I was nearly late,” cried Cocky Doodle.

“Let me squeeze in,” crowed the Old Red Rooster.

“Don’t step on us,” chirped the Three Little Grasshoppers.

“Nor on me,” squeaked little Miss Cricket.

“Hold on, I’m getting in,” barked the Yellow Dog Tramp.

“I ran all the way,” panted Busy Beaver.

“So did I,” said Chippy Chipmunk.

“Any more?” asked the Old Dog Driver.

“Yes, yes!” shouted dear Uncle Lucky. “I’m going,” and the dear old gentleman rabbit hopped out of his Luckymobile and into the Stage Coach.

“I guess everybody’s here,” said Mr. Rabbit.

“Who’s that coming across the meadows?” asked the lady bunny, looking out of the stage coach window.

“Why, bless my pink tie and horseshoe pin,” exclaimed Uncle Lucky, “it’s Goosey Lucy.”

As soon as she was aboard, the Old Dog Driver cracked his whip and away they went to Turnip City to see Uncle Lucky’s wonderful circus.

“Whoa!” shouted the Old Dog Driver, pulling in his team of billy goats. “Whoa!” and this time he said it so loud that an old duck waddled out of a little house close to the bridge gate.

“My gracious!” she quacked, “you have a load, all right. I never saw so many animals and birds in a stage coach before, and I’m an old duck. Oh, yes, I’m as old as a good many great-great-grandmothers.”

“What is the toll?” asked the Old Dog Driver, lighting his pipe and puffing out a cloud of smoke.

“Five carrot cents for the stage coach, ten carrot cents for the Billy Goat Team, two carrot cents for yourself, and three carrot cents for each passenger,” answered the old lady duck.

“Dear me,” whined the Old Dog Driver, “it will take some time to count it all up. How will a lettuce leaf dollar bill suit you?”

“Won’t do,” answered the old lady duck. My, wasn’t she particular, though?

“Well then, let’s start counting,” sighed the Old Dog Driver. “You count those on top and I’ll count those inside, and who gets done first, wins.”

“Wins what?” asked the old Lady Duck.

“A Little Jack Rabbit Book,” laughed the Old Dog Driver. “I have one in my pocket for your little grand duckling. Hurry up and win.”

Then, goodness me! How that lady duck did count! In less than five hundred short seconds she had finished and the Old Dog Driver had only just begun.

Well, sir, when it came to pay, the toll was more than a lettuce leaf dollar bill. Dear me, yes. But what it was I won’t bother to tell you, for I haven’t had time to count the passengers. Have you?

As soon as the toll gate swung open, over the bridge, pranced the billy goats, rapperty rap, rapperty rap, and before very long they were galloping up a steep hill, for those billy goats didn’t mind that. No, siree! They were used to climbing mountains and, besides, everybody was singing:

My goodness! how that Billy Goat Coach rolled over the pebbles and over the stones. And how those billy goats pranced and threw out their heels, shook their heads and their long horns.

“Gid-ap!” barked the Old Dog Driver.

“Let ’er go!” shouted dear Uncle Lucky.

Away, faster than ever, and faster still, went the billy goats up the big steep hill, and down the other side to Rabbitville.

Along Lettuce Avenue they clattered, past the Three-in-One Cent Store, past the Welsh Rarebit Club and the Post Office, from the doorway of which the Old Maid Grasshopper waved a white pocket handkerchief; past the Old Mill where the Dusty Moth Miller ground the corn for the farmer bunnies; past the house of Dr. Quack, the famous duck doctor, and the little green house in which Mrs. Mouse lived.

Dear me! I could go on and on just like the old coach, and say so much that I’d have no room to put in what happened when it finally drew up in Turnip City.

“Whoa there, my good little billy goats!” shouted the Old Dog Driver, as the big Policeman Dog held up his paw to stop the taxis and wagons until everybody was safe on the sidewalk. Then the Old Dog Driver gave the billy goats a nice drink of water at the fountain and drove around to the wagon entrance on Cabbage Street.

Well, it didn’t take the Shady Forest and Sunny Meadow people long to walk into the tent. Uncle Lucky headed the procession, Little Jack Rabbit next, then Grandma Bunny and Lady Love, Mr. Rabbit and the Big Brown Bear, until, way down at the end, waddled Ducky Waddles.

“Quack, quack! Please hurry!” he begged, beginning to fear the circus would be over by the time he entered the tent.

But he needn’t have worried, for the Old Dog Driver had arrived early.

“Come on, Timmie Meadowmouse,” cried the little bunny, “I must see the animals.”

Pretty soon they came to a little tent. They didn’t know it belonged to the Circus Queen, the lovely lady dressed in gauze and gold spangles, who rode on the big white horse.

There she sat on a circus trunk, holding in her arms a little baby.

“Gracious me!” she exclaimed in a whisper on seeing Little Jack Rabbit and Timmie Meadowmouse, “am I dreaming? Maybe I’m in By-low Land!”

“No, m’am,” answered the little bunny, taking off his khaki cap, “I hear them calling you!”

Sure enough, a man’s voice was shouting, “Liz, oh, Liz! Liz, Liz!”

“I’m coming,” answered the Circus Queen, tenderly placing the sleeping baby in its cradle.

Just outside stood a big white horse, and before the little bunny could say “Oh! Ah!” she was riding into the big tent. “Hurrah! Hurray! Here’s Lizzie Gray, she’s riding better every day!” clapped and shouted all the people.

But nobody knew she was a loving mother nor that just outside in the little tent slept Boy Blue.

All of a sudden the band struck up and a funny clown began to sing:

After that the big parade went around the ring, pretty girls dressed up as butterflies, elephants gayly decorated with diamond chains, camels carrying gorgeously gowned ladies, big floats with funny little dwarfs. Everything you can think of, and lots of things you’d never dream of.

My, wasn’t it fun. Well, I guess yes three times, and maybe four. I’m sure I can’t count, I’m so excited just writing about the circus.

“Hurrah!” shouted Little Jack Rabbit. “There’s the circus Queen!”

“Hurray!” shouted the Big Brown Bear, and the next minute he shouted it three times for the trained bear had begun to roller skate.

Goodness me! How the Shady Forest Folk and the Sunny Meadow People enjoyed it all. Even Grandmother Magpie smiled and clapped her wings. As for Granddaddy Bullfrog, he hip-hurrayed until he grew so husky that he didn’t make a sound when he opened his mouth.

By and by, after a while, the show ended and Little Jack Rabbit’s Circus Party marched out and into the Billy Goat Stage Coach.

“Good-by, come again next year!” cried the big Policeman Dog on the street corner.

“Much obliged,” answered Uncle Lucky, waving his old wedding stovepipe hat. “We’ll be back inside a year, see you keep the crossing clear; let no taxi run us down when we come to Turnip Town.”

Then away rattled the stage coach, the two little billy goats prancing up Lettuce Avenue as gayly as you please.

“Toot, toot!” went the ferryboat whistle, as it neared the river. “Hurry up!” it seemed to say. So the Old Dog Driver cracked his whip over the heads of the billy goats and in a few minutes all were on board.

“Tinkle, tinkle!” sounded the bell, the big paddle wheels commenced to turn, and in less time than I can take to tell it the ferryboat was half across the River Sippi, and almost before dear Uncle Lucky could get his shoes shined it bumped into the ferry slip.

“Well, well, well! Here we are!” exclaimed the dear old gentleman rabbit, when the Billy Goat Stage Coach at last drew up before the Old Bramble Patch;

In a few minutes the coach was empty and as soon as the little people of the forest and meadow had thanked Little Jack Rabbit for a good time, they either hopped or ran or flew to their homes. Pretty soon there was nobody left, so the happy rabbit family hopped into the little white house in the Old Bramble Patch. In a few minutes the nice old lady bunny and Lady Love had prepared a nice hot supper.

“I declare,” exclaimed Uncle Lucky, setting down his cup of hot turnip tea, “that certainly was the best circus I’ve been to in many a year.”

“I’ll tell the world,” agreed Little Jack Rabbit.

“What do you know about circuses, you little bunny?” laughed the funny old gentleman rabbit. “This is the first time you’ve ever been to one.”

“That doesn’t matter,” answered the little bunny. “I’ve dreamed about them many a time, and some dreams are very real.”

softly twittered the little canary.

“That reminds me of a story,” mused dear Uncle Lucky, pushing up his spectacles and settling himself comfortably in the old arm chair:

“Once upon a time a little bird in a blue coat sat on an Old Snake Fence. All around him the earth was dingy, the trees bare and leafless. The chilly wind kept little patches of snow still lingering in the shady hollow places. But all this didn’t keep the brave little bird from whistling merrily, for in his heart he held a dream of summer, red roses and green woods, grassy meadows and little hills covered with wild strawberries.

“So he sang his song of promise to his mate while she made a comfortable nest in a dry hole in a fence post. By and by, when it was finished, she filled it with pretty eggs, on which she sat to warm them with her feathers. And while she sat there she, too, dreamed—dreamed of four little bluebirds.

“As the sun grew warmer and the meadow greener and the forest more leafy, one by one the little bluebirds broke open the shells.

sang the Bluebird from the top rail of the Old Snake Fence. There,” said dear Uncle Lucky, “that’s all!”

BUNNY TALE 10
THE CIRCUS ELEPHANT

For days nobody talked of anything but the Circus party. From bush and tree in the Shady Forest, from hollow and hill in the Sunny Meadow, the Little Feathered and Fourfooted Folk were telling over and over again the wonderful things they had seen at the circus.

“Gracious me,” chuckled the Big Brown Bear, “that cousin of mine certainly can roller skate.”

“Well, he was no better than my relative who flew through the ring of flames,” cried Professor Jim Crow.

“Nor any braver than my nephew who fired the pistol. That pup was some dog!” barked the Yellow Dog Tramp, wagging his tail.

“Well, just the same, I’m glad to be back on my old log,” said Granddaddy Bullfrog. “There’s always something going on in the Old Duck Pond. If it isn’t a perch chasing a minnow, it’s Ducky Waddles. Mrs. Darning Needle is never idle and the little tadpoles make me laugh.”

After a week, however, every one settled down again. Little Jack Rabbit had almost forgotten that he’d ever been to a circus when one day just about noontime, who should come along but the Big Circus Elephant. Dear me, how tired he looked! His coat was covered with dust and there was a dent in the little hat on the top of his head. I suppose in coming through the Shady Forest the big animal had brushed against a branch.

“Whew, I’m tired!” he cried, sitting down under the Big Chestnut Tree near which Chippy Chipmunk had his home. “It’s a long way from Turnip City.”

“Yes, indeed,” agreed Little Jack Rabbit, hopping up beside him. “How long did it take you?”

“Two days and forty-four miles,” answered the tired Elephant. “But I’m here at last. So let’s forget troubles and look ahead, as my good mother used to say when I was a kid in Jungle Land.”

“Are you hungry?” asked Little Jack Rabbit. “I have two lollypops and a custard pie in my knapsack.”

“Let’s look at ’em,” answered the Elephant, taking off his hat to wipe his forehead with a pocket handkerchief as large as a table cloth.

“Here they are,” said the little bunny.

“Look pretty nice,” grunted the Circus Elephant, carefully holding the pie with the little finger on the end of his trunk. “Tastes just as good. Got any more?”

“No, but Mother bakes to-day,” answered the bunny boy, “perhaps she’ll bake a big one for you.”

When the Elephant had finished the lollypops he felt better, so he said, and, taking off his hat, he leaned against the Big Chestnut Tree and fell asleep.

“My goodness! It takes an elephant a long time to wake up,” thought the little rabbit, when at last his big circus friend opened his eyes.

“Nothing like a little nap,” yawned the great big animal, rubbing his ear and stretching his hind legs. After that he yawned again, turning up his trunk to get a good long breath of fresh air.

“I dreamed you were handing me a peanut.”

“My, but you snored,” sighed Little Jack Rabbit. “I couldn’t go to sleep until I pretended you were a big engine in a lollypop factory.”

“Ha, ha!” laughed the Circus Elephant. “That reminds me. Didn’t you say it was baking day at the Old Bramble Patch?”

“I did,” replied the bunny boy.

“All right, we’ll make a call on your mother,” said the Circus Elephant, scrambling to his feet. “How do I look?” he asked, straightening his bow tie.

“Very nice,” answered Little Jack Rabbit, “except your trousers. They’re all covered with bits of dry leaves.”

“So they are,” said the Circus Elephant, looking down. “Have you a whisk broom?”

The little bunny opened his knapsack and, taking out a small broom, carefully brushed off the big Elephant.

“I can’t reach your hip-pocket,” he said, standing on tiptoe.

“Here, give me the broom,” said the Circus Elephant, and, grasping the handle in his trunk, he dusted himself off as well as Mister Rastus Coon, the kind porter on the “Cabbage” Pullman Car, brushes a sleepy passenger.

“Now I’ll lift you up on my back,” and the next minute Little Jack Rabbit found himself riding off on the big animal.

By and by, after a while, and maybe a mile and a bump and a smile, they met Old Man Weasel. But Little Jack Rabbit wasn’t afraid. Oh, dear, no! Why should he be? He was way up high on the Circus Elephant’s broad back. Old Man Weasel couldn’t reach up that far, not even if he stood on tiptoe.

“Get out of my way,” roared the big Elephant. “You’re blocking up the path.”

“Where are you going?” snarled Old Man Weasel, stepping aside. My, didn’t he look ugly! Well, I just guess he did. But that didn’t do him any good.

“Never you mind,” replied the Circus Elephant. “You’re no friend of ours.”

from his Shady Forest house.

“Oh, keep quiet, will you?” snapped the Old Weasel.

“Why should he?” asked the big Circus Elephant. “He speaks the truth. Can’t say that about you!”

“Ha, ha!” laughed Little Jack Rabbit. “Won’t Uncle Lucky smile when I tell him what has happened?”

“I’ve a good mind to bite you,” cried Old Man Weasel, glaring at Sammy Skunk.

“You’d better not,” replied Sammy Skunk. “You know what I’ll do to you.”

Of course Old Man Weasel did, and so did all the Shady Forest Folk. But if they don’t meddle with Sammy Skunk he treats them very politely. Yes, indeed.

“Well, so long,” sang out the big Circus Elephant. “We’ve no more time to talk,” and off he went at a rapid pace, and by and by, after a while, not nearly a mile, with a bump and a smile, he stopped at the gate in the old Rail Fence.

“I’ll take down the bars,” he said. “I guess Mrs. Cow won’t try to get out while we’re walking in.”

“Oh, no,” answered Little Jack Rabbit. “She likes the Sunny Meadow. Besides, she is way over there,” pointing toward the Old Duck Pond. “She won’t bother us.”

After the big Circus Elephant had put back the bars he followed the Old Cow Path through the Sunny Meadow to the Old Bramble Patch in the far corner of the Old Rail Fence. Setting the little rabbit down, he wiped his forehead with a big blue silk handkerchief nearly as large as a sheet.

“When does your mother take the cake from the oven?” he asked, with a funny wink, looking at his watch.

“When it’s done,” replied the little rabbit.

“I’ll sit here and wait,” said the big Circus Elephant. So the little bunny hopped into the Old Bramble Patch and around to the back door of the little white bungalow.

Dear me, I almost forgot to say that Lady Love, the little bunny’s pretty mother, was baking angel cake that particular day.

Pretty soon the little rabbit hopped back to his big kind friend with a piece of cake almost as big as a soda cracker.

“Dear, dear,” cried the disappointed circus animal, “this may be enough for a rabbit but, goodness me! and dearest you! it isn’t a swallow for me!”

“I’ll go back for another piece,” said the little bunny, and away he hopped up the little path and around to the kitchen door. But, oh, dear me! If only he had not stopped to speak to Timmie Meadowmouse. Just then down swooped Hungry Hawk. Into an old hollow log slipped the little mouse, but before the poor little rabbit could hide this cruel bird robber picked him up in his claws and flew away toward the Shady Forest.

“Help, help!” shouted Little Jack Rabbit.

Hopping out on the kitchen porch, poor Lady Love looked up to the sky. But that’s all she could do. She had no wings to fly after her little son. And, anyway, how could she, a gentle lady bunny, fight a big cruel hawk!

But the Circus Elephant on hearing the little bunny’s cries, answered with a loud trumpet and set off at a run for the Shady Forest. My, you’d be surprised how fast an elephant can run when he wants to!

Wrinkling his forehead, he pondered what to do. All of a sudden he remembered the big long lasso in his pocket. Quickly coiling it cow-boy fashion, he let it go, Zip! And would you believe it if I didn’t tell you? The noose fell right over the old hawk’s head and around his neck just like the muffler my Uncle John used to wear when I was a boy down on the farm.

“Now I’ll bring you down!” cried the Circus Elephant. But, oh, dearest me! Quicker than the bills on the first of the month that crafty old robber hawk gave his head a wiggle-jiggle and off came the noose.

“Ha, ha!” shouted Hungry Hawk, and away he flew with poor little Jack Rabbit.

BUNNY TALE 11
THE LITTLE MOUNTAIN GOAT

Now I hope you haven’t forgotten what just took place. How Hungry Hawk had picked up poor Little Jack Rabbit. Of course you haven’t! Nor how the big kind Circus Elephant had almost caught this bad robber bird with a long lasso.

But, dear me! I wonder what is happening to Little Jack Rabbit all this time. Maybe the cruel hawk has eaten him for dinner or supper or maybe breakfast.

“Well, I’m not going to give up hope,” said the big Elephant to himself, again setting off after Hungry Hawk, who now could hardly be made out up in the sky so far away.

By and by the Elephant came to a mountain. My, but it was a steep old mountain. Right up and down—almost straight, you know. “Dear me!” almost sobbed the anxious circus animal, sitting down to consider the best thing to do—climb up the mountain or walk around it.

all of a sudden, just like that, shouted a voice.

“Who spoke?” asked the Elephant, mighty anxious to find out quickly if there were a road up this steep, high mountain.

“Look!” answered the same kind voice, and the next minute a little white mountain goat stood before him.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re a mountain goat,” laughed the big animal. “I’m so glad I could cry. Maybe you can climb up and rescue my Little Jack Rabbit.”

“I can’t fight old Hungry Hawk,” answered the little Mountain Goat. “He’s too strong for me.”

“Dear, dear, dearest me!” cried the poor distracted Elephant, “then how can we save my little bunny friend?”

“I can help you climb the mountain,” answered the little Mountain Goat.

“Me?” enquired the big animal. “How could you help a great big elephant up this steep, right-up-and-down, mountain, I should like to know.”

“That won’t be so hard,” answered the little Mountain Goat. “Give me your lasso.”

Throwing the loop over his horns, the little Mountain Goat started to climb up the mountain side. First he jumped to a ledge of rock, then scrambled up sideways, then sideways the other way, then another jump, and perhaps two, and then a scramble.

After working his way up almost as far as the length of the long rope, he braced his forefeet against a rock and called down: “Pull yourself up with your trunk!”

Well, sir, that’s just what that big kind anxious Circus Elephant did. He took hold of that rope with his trunk and up he went, hand over hand—I mean trunk over trunk—just like a fireman, and by and by, pretty soon, not so very quick, he stood beside the little Mountain Goat.

“Good for you,” exclaimed that plucky little animal, as the Elephant took out his big pocket handkerchief to wipe his forehead. “You came up all right. Now wait here while I climb up higher.” Up and up went the little Mountain Goat, now sideways, now straight; now the other way sideways, then a jump and a scramble, or a scramble and a jump, or two jumps, or two scrambles till, by and by, not so pretty soon, but after a while, he called down; “Come on, pull yourself up!”

Then up went the big Circus Elephant trunk over trunk—now slipping and sprawling, or sprawling and slipping till, by and by, after a while, out of breath, with a dusty smile, he stood by the side of the little Mountain Goat.

“Good for you! Now wait here till I go up. Don’t slip, but stand still.” And away went this nimble little goat up, up, up; now sideways, this way and that; now up straight; then slanting, right and left, criss-cross, with a jump and a leap, or a scramble and a scrumble, making the pebbles fly downward, and sometimes a big rock, till, by and by, after a while, up nearly a mile, he called down:

“Come on, pull yourself up!”

Again bracing his front feet, the little mountain goat held on to the long rope, the loop of which was over his strong little horns, you know, until the Elephant had drawn himself up.

“Whew!” exclaimed the big animal. “Aren’t we ’most there?”

“Almost,” answered the little Mountain Goat, and up he went again. When at last he reached the top the big Elephant could hardly touch the end of the lasso, and then only by standing up on his hind legs and stretching ’way up with his trunk. But he just could, all right. So up he went, trunk over trunk, scrambling and tugging and panting and puffing, till by and by, after a while, and it seemed like a mile, he stood by the side of the little goat on the tip-top of the mountain.

Dearest me, I thought the little Mountain Goat and the big kind Circus Elephant would never reach the mountain top, didn’t you? I’m mighty glad, for now I’ll have more room to tell you what happened as soon as they saw the nest to which old Hungry Hawk had carried Little Jack Rabbit.

“There he is,” whispered the Elephant, who had wonderful far-sighted eyes.

“Where?” asked the little goat in another whisper, only of course it was much softer than the Elephant’s.

“Don’t you see?” replied the big animal.

“Oh, yes, now I do,” answered the little Mountain Goat. “That is, I can just see the tips of his ears.”

“Dear me, how can I get over to him without Hungry Hawk seeing me?” asked the big anxious Elephant.

“Hide behind this rock,” advised the little goat. “I’ll skip about and maybe Hungry Hawk will go for me. If he does, I’ll jump behind the rock and you can grab him with your long trunk.”

“Good idea,” laughed the Elephant softly. “You’ve got quite a head under your horns. Yes, sireebus!”

Then with a gentle shuffle he tip-toed behind the rock and the little Mountain Goat went skip-toeing, hipperty-hop, over toward the big nest.

All of a sudden there was a great whirring of wings and up flew Hungry Hawk, circling just above the little goat, stretching down his long sharp claws, opening his great bill and clapping it together with a snap.

“Bleat, bleat!” went the little Mountain Goat, pretending he was frightened. Then back he turned and skip-toed over to the big rock.

“Ha, ha!” thought Hungry Hawk to himself. “I’ll have a nice tender little goat for dinner. Little Jack Rabbit is only big enough for supper.”

Perhaps the little goat heard old Hungry Hawk, for he gave two more little bleats and hid behind the great big stone.

“Ha, ha!” again laughed Hungry Hawk. “I’ll dash down behind that rock and grab that little goat before he can wink his left eye three times!”

Whish, whish! went the big robber bird’s wings, and swish! swish! went his long tail as he swung around the corner of the big rock.

Then something happened. Oh, my, what a scuffle there was for the next few minutes! Goodness me! The air was full of funny squawky noises and feathers were flying here and there and everywhere! For no sooner had Hungry Hawk flown around the big rock to catch the little Mountain Goat than the Circus Elephant reached out his long trunk, catching by the neck that wicked bird before he could turn away.

Goodness me! again. How Hungry Hawk flapped his wings and wiggled his tail and clawed with his long hooked toes! But that didn’t do a bit of good. Dear me, no! It only made matters worse, for the harder he struggled the more the Elephant swung him around until, goodness knows, he would have lost every feather if he hadn’t begged in a squeaky, stifled voice to be allowed to sit down and talk matters over.

“Talk matters over?” grunted the Elephant, holding on to the tip of the old hawk’s tail, “what’s the use? I’m going to take Little Jack Rabbit home with me. As for you, I’ve a good notion to whack your head against the rock till you see stars and comets.”

“Oh, please don’t,” begged Hungry Hawk, “I’ve had enough banging for a year. I’ll give you Little Jack Rabbit and a cigar coupon if you’ll let me go.”

“Come along with me till I see if the little bunny is safe and well,” answered the big circus animal, and he and the little Mountain Goat walked over to the old hawk’s nest. There stood poor little Jack Rabbit tied fast to a ring in the big rock. He was so glad to see his dear friend the Elephant that he almost cried—maybe he did shed a tear or three and perhaps four.

Well, sir. Troubles weren’t over, just the same. For now they all had to climb down the high, steep and straight mountain side.

“Get on my back, little bunny,” said the kind Circus Elephant. “I’ll go down backwards the same as I came up frontwards, only different.”

Then the little Mountain Goat braced his forefeet against the rock and the big elephant took hold of the lasso, the loop end of which was over the little goat’s horns, you know, and down the side of the steep mountain slid the big animal, first one foot, then two, then three and finally four, and when he reached the end of the rope he waited for the little Mountain Goat to come down, and then they started all over again. The little Mountain Goat braced his feet against the rock and the big elephant took hold of the rope and slid and slid and scrambled and scrambled, or jiggled and rumbled, down and down, until he came to the end of the long lasso.

“My goodness meebus, that was a high mountain,” gasped the Circus Elephant, when at last his hind feet touched the level meadow. “Really, I thought I’d never get down.”

“Oh, that’s nothing,” laughed the little Mountain Goat, shaking his head till the lasso fell off his horns. “I run up and down sometimes three times a day.”

“All right, but don’t ask me to,” replied the Elephant. “Although I’d do it all over again for Little Jack Rabbit’s sake.”