When Mr. Turtle heard that, his beady little eyes snapped.
"Don't be so sure!" he said. "I believe I can beat you. And I will bet you——"
Jimmy Rabbit did not wait for him to finish.
"Bet!" he cried. "I never bet! I'm not allowed to. My mother doesn't approve of betting. And if she heard you mention such a thing to me she would be very angry."
"I didn't mean to say that," Mr. Turtle told him hastily. "It was just a slip of the tongue. What I meant to say was this: If you win the race, I'll give you a fine new sled; and if I win, you can give me your wheelbarrow."
Jimmy Rabbit began to be interested. He had always wanted a sled. And by another month or two there ought to be good coasting. It certainly wasn't betting, he thought. And as for losing the race—and his wheelbarrow—he knew that such a thing could never happen.
"I'll race you!" he cried. "When shall it be?"
"How would to-morrow do?" said Mr. Turtle. "It's a long way from the creek to Broad Brook—a good day's journey, I call it. It's too late to start to-day."
Jimmy Rabbit grinned. He knew that he could run that far fifty times a day.