Just then, all of a sudden, who should come along but the Yellow Dog Tramp. Wasn’t that lucky? So the little rabbits started off in their Bunnymobile without Mr. Wicked Wolf.
BRAVE YELLOW DOG TRAMP
Now if the brave Yellow Dog Tramp had been a minute later perhaps and maybe the two little rabbits would have been eaten up in the last story. For just as he came along Mr. Wicked Wolf grew impatient and with a dreadful growl jumped out from behind the Bunnymobile.
And, oh, dear me. Didn’t his eyes look fierce, and didn’t his mouth look red and his teeth white?
And if you can think of anything worse at night than a wolf’s face, please tell me, for I’d like to know if there is anything that really can scare that brave Yellow Dog Tramp.
“Stop, or I’ll bite one of your rubber tires,” screamed Mr. Wicked Wolf, and he took hold with his teeth. And then what do you think that brave Yellow Dog Tramp did?
Why, he leaned out of the automobile and hit that wolf on the head with a monkey wrench, and that wolf saw three million five hundred and ninety-nine and a half stars, and then he rolled over on the snow and began to cry, and then the tire which he had bitten burst and all the air came out—Oh, dear me, now I’m saying something which isn’t true, for the Bunnymobile had runners in the winter and not wheels.
So how could air come out of a steel runner? No, sir, that wasn’t what happened at all. It was this way.
The old gentleman rabbit got out the air pump and blew snow all over that wolf till he was covered with a drift as high as the Old Rail Fence and it took him all night to dig himself out.
Well, after that Uncle John Hare started off for home, but just before he reached the corner of Lettuce Avenue and Carrot Street, he came across the Policeman Dog, who, when he saw the Yellow Dog Tramp, shouted: