“’Cause why?” inquired Mistah Mule.
“I should think the sound of your laugh would scare you terribly,” Master Meadow Mouse explained. “And how awful, if—when you were alone—you got to laughing and couldn’t stop!”
This remark so amused Mistah Mule that he couldn’t help laughing again. And Master Meadow Mouse promptly tumbled right over backward. He was sadly frightened. But he soon pulled himself together.
“Do you suppose,” he asked, “I could learn to make that sound? It would be pleasant, when anybody chases you, to turn around quickly and hee-haw right in his face. It’s a fine way to frighten a person.”
“Keep a-tryin’ whenever you gits a chance,” Mistah Mule suggested.
Just then another little person came creeping through the grass. It was Master Meadow Mouse’s mother.
“I’ll try it on her,” Master Meadow Mouse whispered. And scampering up to his mother, he said in his tiny, squeaky voice, “Hee-haw!”
“There! You’re catching cold!” his mother exclaimed. “You sneezed. Come right home and drink some hot ginger tea. You must wear your rubbers when the dew is on the grass.”
“Excuse me, Ma! I was not sneezing. If you don’t believe me, you can ask my friend here,” said Master Meadow Mouse.
“Friend! What friend?” his mother replied, looking in every direction except up. She didn’t see Mistah Mule, who towered above her like a mountain.