“Him!” said Master Meadow Mouse, pointing upward.
His mother raised her head. And when she beheld Mistah Mule she gave a shrill scream.
“What monster is this?” she cried.
“He isn’t a monster. He’s Mistah Mule,” Master Meadow Mouse told her.
“Come away!” Mrs. Meadow Mouse begged her son. “It’s not safe to be so near him. He could swallow you and me both at the same time.”
Of course Mistah Mule had never eaten a mouse of any sort. The good lady’s fright amused him. “Hee-haw! Hee-haw!” he laughed.
“Run, child! Run!” Mrs. Meadow Mouse shrieked. And gathering up her petticoats, she dashed for the nearest tree and squirmed her way down among the roots, out of sight.
Meanwhile Master Meadow Mouse began galloping about Mistah Mule in a circle. Watching his small new friend, Mistah Mule slowly turned round and round in his tracks.
“What for you does that?” he inquired at last.
“My mother told me to run,” Master Meadow Mouse explained. “I always try to mind my mother.”