“Why, once when I started for home I was in such a hurry I forgot to zigzag, and before I realized it I was twice as far from home as when I set out. So when I am chasing a fox or a panther I have to make up in speed what I lose in ground. But as for this nose-wabbling,”—the Rabbit again consulted his pocket mirror and sighed deeply—“that gets me. I give it up. Even Doctor Goose, who knows everything—or almost everything—can’t explain that.”
“The Laziest Beaver said you were going up to The Well to find the answer,” remarked Buddie, who was very curious to find out what sort of well it was.
“Yes; I am going up to The Well,” replied the Rabbit. “But I am not the only one that wishes to learn something. The Guinea-Pig wants to know why his eyes fall out when you hold him up by the tail.”
“But a guinea-pig hasn’t any tail,” said Buddie, who had owned one, and was quite sure it didn’t have a sign of a tail.
“I don’t know what sort of guinea-pigs you are in the habit of associating with,” said the Rabbit; “but all of my acquaintance have tails, and good long ones. Why shouldn’t a guinea-pig have a tail? A guinea-hen has.”
“I don’t know why it shouldn’t, but I know it hasn’t,” Buddie persisted.
“Well, here comes the Guinea-Pig now,” said the Rabbit; “and if that isn’t a tail he’s wearing, I don’t know a tail when I see it.”
Buddie looked around and saw, almost at her feet, the dearest Guinea-Pig imaginable. She gave a cry of delight and stretched out her hand to caress it, just as she used to caress her own pet before it fell victim to a foraging fox.
Now, Buddie did not mean to do it, but it came about in this way: startled by her exclamation, the Guinea-Pig turned and made off; Buddie reached forward eagerly, caught him, and lifted him up—by the tail!