“Are you estimating timber?” asked the Donkey, with a glance at the Rabbit’s pack.
“I am going up to The Well to find out why I wabble my nose,” the Rabbit replied.
“He has a map,” said Buddie, curious to know what the Donkey thought of it. “Show it to the Professor.”
The Rabbit passed it over, and the Donkey, after one look, hee-hawed outrageously.
“Thistles and cactus!” he cried. “This isn’t a map; it’s a target.”
“It’s a map, and a perfectly good one,” said the Rabbit, highly offended by the ridicule. “My grandfather made it.”
“Your grandfather must have been a Welsh rabbit, and dreamed it,” said the Donkey, with a chuckle.
“He was not a Welsh rabbit, and he did not dream it,” returned the Rabbit, now furious.
“Then he must have had wheels in his head,” declared the Donkey. “Thistles and cactus! Where do you expect to get to with such a map?”
As the Rabbit was too angry to reply, Buddie repeated his explanation about traveling in gradually narrowing circles.