In climbed the Big Brown Bear and the Yellow Dog Tramp, but Sammy Skunk suddenly remembered he had an errand to do.
“I can’t go,” he apologized. “I must get a spool of cotton for Mrs. Skunk at the Three-in-One Cent Store.”
“Maybe I can drop you there,” suggested kind Uncle Lucky. But Sammy Skunk wouldn’t hear of it.
“No, no! Some other time,” he shouted, as he hurried off in the opposite direction.
“Well, where shall we go?” asked considerate Uncle Lucky, honking the horn before he put on his goggles. Then fastening his blue silk polkadot handkerchief over his old wedding stovepipe hat and under his chin and winding his gold watch and chain, he started up the Luckymobile, his two friends on the back seat smiling away as if they were going to the circus or a baseball game at Carrot City.
After a while and a bump and a smile and maybe a laugh or three, there came into view a big kangaroo and a fat old bumblebee.
Dear, dear! Why didn’t my typewriter put this pretty rhyme into verse. I guess it forgot I’m a poet!
“Stop, stop!” shouted the Kangaroo. “If you don’t I’ll give a hop and a jump and perhaps a skip or two and land myself right in the Luckymobile. I can jump much farther than you.”
“Yes, you have long hind legs,” smiled Uncle Lucky, re-flec-tive-ly, which means thinking hard while you speak. “You’re the largest hopper I’ve ever seen.”
“You’re a pretty good jumper yourself,” answered the Kangaroo, grinning at nice Uncle Lucky. “Let’s have a race. I’ll give you a handicap.”