Stuck fast in the mud as he was, Jimmy Rabbit couldn't do a thing except shout. Or you might spy there were only two things he could do—shouting being one of them, and keeping still being the other.
At first, Jimmy couldn't help calling out at the top of his lungs. But Peter Mink, you remember, didn't appear to hear him. And there seemed to be no one else near. After a time Jimmy Rabbit grew so hoarse that he stopped shouting for help and tried to think of some way in which he might escape.
It occurred to him that if he could only[p. 102] manage to get his left hind-foot free of the mud (that was his lucky foot, you know) perhaps he would be able to crawl out, somehow. With his lucky foot buried deep in the mud, and quite out of sight, Jimmy thought it was not at all strange that he had not been able to free himself.
So he tried to raise his left hind-foot. At first the mud actually seemed to suck it deeper, as he tried. But after a long time Jimmy succeeded in lifting that foot the least bit. And he was pleased—until he discovered that his other hind-foot had only sunk further into the mire.
At last he happened to look up. And there on the bank, gazing down at him, stood Peter Mink.
"What are you doing down there?" Peter Mink called. "Why didn't you follow me, as I told you to?"
"I fell into this mud," Jimmy Rabbit[p. 103] told him. "And I called and called to you. Couldn't you hear me?"
"The wind was blowing," said Peter—and anyone can see that that was no answer at all.
"Well, if you'd looked around, you could have seen what happened to me," Jimmy Rabbit complained.