“Oh, botheration!” exclaimed Photographer Crane, again setting up his camera as the Big Brown Bear brushed his hair and combed his trousers. I beg your pardon, I mean combed his hair and brushed his trousers. Then, sitting down on a wooden bench and lighting his pipe, he waited to be photographed. But, dear me! Photographer Crane was so dreadfully nervous and his legs so trembly that the camera wiggled and jiggled and I fear the picture will look like seven or eight bears dancing in front of the Cozy Cave.
“Dear me!” sighed the poor nervous photographer bird as he hurried away, “I’ll never reach the Old Bramble Patch, and I must not disappoint Little Jack Rabbit.” But no sooner had he finished speaking than out jumped Old Man Weasel. I wonder if he wants his photo taken. Maybe he just feels hungry and will eat poor Photographer Crane.
“S O S. Oh, please come quick
And bring your big old hickory stick;
There’s danger in the forest lane,
Oh, come and help poor Mr. Crane,”
shouted Professor Jim Crow over his radio as that mean Weasel crept out from behind a tree.
Of course he did it so softly that Photographer Crane never heard him. He had been hopping along on his long thin legs, his camera over his back, feeling quite contented at having taken two pictures.
A good day’s work, and the day only half over. Pretty soon he would be at the Old Bramble Patch to make a beautiful photograph of Little Jack Rabbit.
“Maybe I’ll take it in colors,” he was thinking. “This little bunny boy rabbit is such a nice youngster.”