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.