“No, he isn’t,” laughed Bill, “I see his nose move; he is breathing.”
Some brush had drifted against the stump and the rabbit had eaten it as far as he had been able to reach.
When the boys lifted the rabbit into the boat, they had another surprise, for nestled under his fur they discovered a black meadow mouse that had also sought refuge on the stump when the water had risen.
“Take him off,” Tim begged, “he’ll freeze to death on the stump,” and Bill took him off and placed him under the rabbit, who was quietly squatting under the seat as if he belonged there.
When the boys returned to the brush-and-grass-covered island, they discovered four more rabbits, who, however, were more lively than the one on the stump. They ran about in a most puzzling zigzag fashion and one even tried to swim across a channel to another piece of dry land. But the boys caught them all and put them in the boat, from which they did not try to escape.
While they were chasing the rabbits the boys made another discovery. The island was alive with black meadow-mice; there were hundreds of them. Every tuft of dead grass, every bush, every pile of dead leaves was crowded with them.
“Oh, Tim,” teased Bill, “let’s row back to the boat and get some pie for all your pets.”
But Tim had caught the twinkle in his brother’s eye. “Ah, you can’t fool me,” he came back. “Don’t you think I know that these wild mice have plenty of grass and brush to eat till the water goes down?”
It did not take the boys long to decide what to do with the rabbits.
“If we could only keep them,” was Tim’s wish. “We would have as much fun with them as we had with our rabbits at Vicksburg.”