Little Jack Rabbit hopped up the Winding Trail in the Shady Forest to the Forest Pool, in which Busy Beaver had a nice bungalow.

Of course this little hairy swimmer was at home. Yes, indeed. There he sat on the bank, looking here and looking there, just as if he hadn’t a single care.

“Hello!” shouted the little bunny boy rabbit.

“Well, I’m glad to see you,” answered Busy Beaver. “It’s a long time since you’ve made a call.”

“So it is,” replied the little rabbit, “but you’re not the only busy person in the world.”

“I’m not busy just now. You see, I work on my new building at night,” and Busy Beaver flapped the water with his long flat tail.

“Where are the other members of the family?” asked the polite little rabbit. You see, not having made a call for so long a time he had forgotten all their names.

“Oh, they’re cutting down some small trees,” replied Busy Beaver. “As we live on land and in the water, we must have two houses. Then, too, as the children grow up we need more, which keeps us busy all the time.”

“Well, remember me to everybody,” said the little bunny boy rabbit, and away he hopped, lipperty lip, clipperty clip until all of a sudden, just like that, whom should he see but the Farmer’s Boy with a gun over his shoulder.

“Dear, dear!” thought the little rabbit. “Is he going to shoot Busy Beaver, I wonder. His nice fur coat would make a warm pair of gloves for the cold weather. I guess I’ll warn Busy Beaver.”

So back hopped this kind-hearted little bunny, clipperty clip, lipperty lip, looking over his shoulder now and then and sometimes oftener to see if the Farmer’s Boy was following him.

“What are you back for?” asked Busy Beaver, as all out of breath Little Jack Rabbit stopped again at the Shady Forest Pool.

“S-s-sh!” whispered the little bunny. “The Farmer’s Boy is out with his gun. I just saw him up the Shady Forest Trail. That’s why I hopped back.”

“Very kind of you,” answered the little beaver. “Guess I’ll take to the water. I’ve got a nice hiding place not far from here. Good-by,” and away he swam in his nice chestnut brown fur coat, leaving the boy bunny rabbit all alone. Dear me! I hope the Farmer’s Boy doesn’t shoot him before I get him safely away, too.

“What was that?” thought the Farmer’s Boy as Little Jack Rabbit hopped into a hollow stump near by. “What was that?” repeated the curious boy, tiptoeing over to the Shady Forest Pool. I guess he had heard the slap of the little beaver’s long flat tail as he dived down under the water to reach his front door.

Pretty soon the Farmer’s Boy turned away and walked up to the hollow stump. He was just going to thrust in his arm when he heard a great splashing in the Shady Forest Pool. My goodness, how Busy Beaver was flapping the water with his big flat tail, sending the spray flying in all directions.

At once the Farmer’s Boy forgot all about the hollow stump. Lifting his gun to his shoulder, he took careful aim, but before he could pull the trigger a big drop of water spattered in his eye and he dropped the gun to take out his pocket handkerchief. Wait a minute, please, I’ve made a mistake. I meant to say he dropped his gun to brush the water from his eye with his coat sleeve.

“Now’s your chance!” shouted Busy Beaver.

Of course the Farmer’s Boy didn’t understand this warning, but the little rabbit did. Peeking out of the hollow stump for just a minute, he went hipperty hop, clipperty clip, lipperty lip down the Shady Forest Trail, past the wooded hillside where beneath a pile of rocks Danny Fox had his den.

“Now’s my chance,” thought Danny Fox, and out he jumped from his rocky bungalow.

“Dear, oh, dear me! Now what shall I do? I’m a goner, I know it!” cried the poor little bunny boy rabbit. “Yes, I’m a goner as sure as sunshine follows rain.”

“Stop whispering to yourself!” snarled the wicked fox. “I’ve a good mind to eat you right now before the Policeman Dog happens by with his big hickory stick.”

“Please do—I mean, please don’t! Oh, dear, oh, dear, I don’t know what I mean!” cried the poor frightened little bunny, his pink nose twinkling like a star on a frosty night.

“Gr-r-r!” snarled the old fox, creeping closer and closer till his hot breath burned the shivering little rabbit’s whiskers. “I’m going to eat you now. Make no mistake about it. You have given me the slip once too often.”

“No, you’re not!” shouted a friendly voice and from behind a clump of trees out ran the Old Brown Horse. Turning quickly around, he let fly with his two hind feet, sending Danny Fox through the air like a hairy four-footed two-eared football.

“Never come back!” cried the Old Brown Horse, leaning over to see if the little rabbit was all right. Of course he was, but all a-tremble.

“Thank you,” he cried. “Won’t you come home with me? You can sleep in our Little Red Barn.”

“All right,” answered the Big Brown Horse, trotting after the little bunny rabbit boy.

“Perhaps if you hop on my back you’ll be home in the Old Bramble Patch in two shakes of a lamb’s tail,” said the Old Brown Horse, noticing how trembly the little rabbit was.

So up hopped the little bunny boy and away they went, trottery trot, bumperty, bump! By and by, after a while, and a laugh and a smile, they came to a big wide river.

“I’m not a very good swimmer,” apologized the kind four-footed animal, “but maybe I can manage to get across.”

“Don’t take too many chances,” advised the little bunny boy rabbit.

But the Old Brown Horse kept right on wading into the water and pretty soon it was up to his shoulder. All of a sudden his feet couldn’t touch bottom. Only a little bit of the top of his back was above water and Little Jack Rabbit had to pull up his feet and hug tight to the Old Brown Horse—hold tight to his mane, you know, so he wouldn’t slip off.

They were now out in the middle of the river where the water ran fast and furious. Dear me! It was now hard work to swim and the Old Brown Horse began to puff and pant as down the river they drifted with the fast flowing current.

“I guess I’m all in,” panted the poor tired steed. “I never was a fine swimmer. The race track was the place where I could show my heels to the best of them!”

“What are we going to do?” asked the anxious little bunny boy, as they drifted farther and farther away. The trees on the shore nodded and seemed to beckon them to swim to land. The white fleecy clouds up in the sky took the shape of fingers pointing to the shore. The poor Old Brown Horse was all tired out and his long thin legs made poor paddle wheels. If only his feet had been flat like Ducky Waddles it would have been an easy matter to have made the shore and landed his little bunny rider safely on the grass.

By and by Mr. Merry Sun drew close to the tip of the Western Hills. The sky became all pinky-purple and golden-blue. Billy Breeze began to whisper sleepy music in the treetops and the birds to fly home to their leafy nests. I guess Mrs. Cow was ringing the little bell on her leather collar to call her long-legged calf. It was past supper time and the Twinkle Twinkle Star would be shining from the sky.

“What shall we do?” asked the little anxious bunny.

“I don’t know,” sadly replied the poor steed. “My feet are dreadfully stiff and cold. I can hardly swish my tail it’s so wet and heavy.”

Just then a voice came across the darkening waters: “I’ll help you!”

“Do it quick!” gasped the Old Brown Horse, still bravely struggling in the swift current. “I’m all in!”

“Oh, please come at once with a boat or a life preserver!” shouted Little Jack Rabbit. “My dear Old Brown Horse is nearly drowned.”

The next moment around a bend in the river came the Billy Goat with his Ferryboat. You remember the Ferryboat, don’t you? The old rowboat with a bicycle in the middle and paddle wheels on the side to push it ahead or backward or any way which Captain Billygoat wished to go.

“Oh, hurry, hurry!” shouted the poor frightened little bunny boy, as the Old Brown Horse floundered about in the angry waters, his head at times almost disappearing and his poor hind legs refusing to make another stroke.

“I’m coming. Keep up!” shouted back the kind Billy Goat, making his hind legs go so fast that the spray from the paddle wheels almost hid him from view. At last, however, and none too soon, he came alongside the poor tired horse.

“Quick! Jump in!” shouted the Billy Goat, and in hopped the bunny rabbit boy.

“Lay your head in the boat,” cried the Billy Goat to the Old Brown Horse.

Dear me! The poor old fellow had scarcely enough strength to do even that. At length, however, he began to breathe easier, for all he had to do was just be towed along.

“You saved me from a watery grave, kind Billy Goat Ferry Man. Some day I’ll do you a friendly deed,” said the grateful horse when the Ferryboat reached the shore.

“Oh, don’t mention it,” replied the Billy Goat. “I’d do anything for you and Little Jack Rabbit. Give my regards to the folks at home!” and away paddled the good lifesaver in his paddle-wheel rowboat to the wharf where the little rabbit boys and girls waited for him to take them to ice cream picnics or lollypop clambakes.

“I’ll take you home now that I’m nicely rested,” said the Old Brown Horse. “I declare, I never thought this river had so swift a current.”

“Oh, I was so frightened,” answered the little rabbit, climbing on his back. “I thought I’d never see the dear Old Bramble Patch again. I want to get home to mother.”

“You’ll be there pretty soon,” replied the old horse, setting off at a brisk trot.

As they neared the Old Bramble Patch they saw Lady Love standing at the gate, shading her eyes with her front paw.

sang the pretty canary.