Little Jack Rabbit's big blue book

The Big Brown Bear, the Yellow Dog Tramp, and Sammy Skunk, Esq., of Sleepy Hollow, were playing pinochle in a little log cabin.

Just then who should come along in the Luckymobile but Mr. Lucky Lefthindfoot, the dear old gentleman bunny rabbit.

“Honk, honk!” went his horn and “Hello, hello!” he shouted, stopping all of a sudden, just like that, quick as a wink, right in front of the little log hut. “Who’ll be the next President?” and in he hopped to shake hands with his Shady Forest friends.

“Hope you’ll be,” answered all three with a smile, for everybody likes Uncle Lucky. Oh, my, yes!

“My, but you fellows look all mussed up,” exclaimed the old gentleman rabbit.

“We couldn’t look spick and span after the fight we’ve just had with Mr. Wicked Wolf and Danny Fox,” replied the Yellow Dog Tramp. “Of course my clothes are not of the latest style nor just pressed. But to wrestle with Danny Fox would make a dress suit look like a pair of overalls,—and maybe worse.”

“Come, jump into the Luckymobile,” said the old gentleman bunny, with a kind smile. “I’ll take you all for a ride.”

In climbed the Big Brown Bear and the Yellow Dog Tramp, but Sammy Skunk suddenly remembered he had an errand to do.

“I can’t go,” he apologized. “I must get a spool of cotton for Mrs. Skunk at the Three-in-One Cent Store.”

“Maybe I can drop you there,” suggested kind Uncle Lucky. But Sammy Skunk wouldn’t hear of it.

“No, no! Some other time,” he shouted, as he hurried off in the opposite direction.

“Well, where shall we go?” asked considerate Uncle Lucky, honking the horn before he put on his goggles. Then fastening his blue silk polkadot handkerchief over his old wedding stovepipe hat and under his chin and winding his gold watch and chain, he started up the Luckymobile, his two friends on the back seat smiling away as if they were going to the circus or a baseball game at Carrot City.

After a while and a bump and a smile and maybe a laugh or three, there came into view a big kangaroo and a fat old bumblebee.

Dear, dear! Why didn’t my typewriter put this pretty rhyme into verse. I guess it forgot I’m a poet!

“Stop, stop!” shouted the Kangaroo. “If you don’t I’ll give a hop and a jump and perhaps a skip or two and land myself right in the Luckymobile. I can jump much farther than you.”

“Yes, you have long hind legs,” smiled Uncle Lucky, re-flec-tive-ly, which means thinking hard while you speak. “You’re the largest hopper I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re a pretty good jumper yourself,” answered the Kangaroo, grinning at nice Uncle Lucky. “Let’s have a race. I’ll give you a handicap.”

“I don’t need one—I’ve my dear old wedding stovepipe hat,” answered the old gentleman rabbit, hopping out of the Luckymobile.

“Who’ll be the judge?” asked the Big Brown Bear.

“Not me,” said the Yellow Dog Tramp, although he should have said, “Not I.” But school is over and the teacher is away, so we’ll let it go this once.

“I’ll be the judge,” said the Old Fat Bumble Bee. “I’ll be Timekeeper, too, for I have a little gold watch.”

By this time the Kangaroo and dear Uncle Lucky were all ready for the race. The old gentleman bunny was twenty-two hops in front of the Kangaroo and the course was over to a big rock and back to the Luckymobile.

“You start them off,” said the Old Fat Bumble Bee, to the Yellow Dog Tramp.

“All right,” answered the obliging dog, commencing to count.

“One, two, three,—go!”

Away went dear Uncle Lucky across the meadow and after him the great long-legged Kangaroo. Just one of his jumps was equal to three and a half of the rabbit bunny man.

“Hurry up! Uncle Lucky!” shouted the Big Brown Bear.

“Catch him!” cried the Old Bumble Bee, who was the Kangaroo’s friend, although I forgot to mention it sooner.

“Go it!” shouted the Yellow Dog Tramp. “Go it, Uncle Lucky!”

And then the old gentleman bunny went faster than ever. I guess it was all the blue silk polkadot handkerchief could do to keep his old wedding stovepipe hat from falling off!

“Goodness me!” gasped Uncle Lucky, as he turned back from the big rock on his way home to the winning place, “that Kangaroo is gaining on me. I must hop a little faster and then some more.”

“My, but that old gentleman rabbit is pretty good yet,” thought the Kangaroo, touching the big rock and starting back after the old gentleman bunny sprinter.

“Come on! Come on! Uncle Lucky!” shouted the Big Brown Bear, jumping up and down on the front seat of the Luckymobile.

“Hurry up, hurry up!” barked the Yellow Dog Tramp. “Hurry up, Uncle Lucky!”

“Catch him!” cried the Old Bumble Bee to the long legged Kangaroo.

“Dearest me!” gasped poor Uncle Lucky, “I’m most in!”

Just then, and it was mighty lucky, too, as you’ll soon see, the blue silk polkadot handkerchief slipped off his old wedding stovepipe, and before the old gentleman bunny could save it that precious hat had fallen to the ground.

“Don’t stop!” shouted the Big Brown Bear. And Uncle Lucky didn’t. Neither did the long-legged Kangaroo. He tried hard not to step into the stovepipe hat, but in slipped his right foot and over he went, tripperty trip, flat on the meadow grass, and the next minute the old gentleman bunny had touched the Luckymobile and won the race.

“Hip, hurrah!” barked the Yellow Dog Tramp.

“Three cheers!” shouted the Big Brown Bear, but Uncle Lucky didn’t say anything. He didn’t care nearly so much about winning as he did to find out whether his dear old wedding stovepipe hat were injured. Hopping quickly back to the Kangaroo, who was just struggling to his feet, the old gentleman rabbit exclaimed:

“Don’t worry,” answered the Kangaroo, hopping about on one foot while he tugged at the old stovepipe hat. “I’ll not cough, but I may do something else,” and he began to look dreadfully cross. “This hat is so tight it makes my pinky ache.”

“Sit down, sit down!” advised Uncle Lucky. “The first thing you know you’ll lose your balance and that will be the end of my dear old wedding stovepipe hat. Oh, please sit down.”

But, oh, dear me! The Kangaroo suddenly stubbed his toe on a buttercup, and down he went, head over heels, on the meadow.

cried the old gentleman rabbit, hopping over to the sprawling Kangaroo.

“There, take your old hat,” he grumbled, pulling out his foot with a desperate tug, “I lost the race on account of it and my temper, too. Take it away before I lose my money.”

The old gentleman bunny lost no time in placing it on his head and with a thank you and hope I meet you soon again, he hopped into his Luckymobile and drove away with his two good friends, the Big Brown Bear and the Yellow Dog Tramp.