Uncle Wiggily and Baby Bunty

“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!”

“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.

The Pipsisewah came nearer and nearer, howling for rabbit-ear souse. And then, all of a sudden, a little bright and shining light flew through the air, and came down on the flat stone where Uncle Wiggily had placed the sticks to make a fire. And, in another moment ten thousand other little points of light came flying along. They dropped down among the dry sticks and branches at the spot where Uncle Wiggily had tried to make the blaze until it looked as if the whole place were burning.

“Oh, look!” cried Baby Bunty. “We have a bonfire!”

And the Pipsisewah, seeing the bright light, gave a grumble and growl and quickly sneaked away.

“Just my luck!” he said. “I thought I’d have a bit of souse, but I don’t even dare go near the fire!”

And Uncle Wiggily, looking among the sticks, said:

“This isn’t burning fire at all; it’s just a lot of lightning bugs crawling on the pieces of wood.”

“Yes, that’s what we are,” said a voice. “I am the lightning bug you saved from the sticky gum, and these are my cousins and my sisters and my aunts.”

“And you saved us from the Pipsisewah!” said Uncle Wiggily, and so the lightning bugs had. Then the firefly bugs flew on ahead, lighting the path to the hollow stump bungalow for the bunnies, and all was well.

And if the loaf of bread doesn’t hide in the flower pot when the rice pudding wants it to help catch the raisins for a pie, I’ll tell you next about Uncle Wiggily and the roses.