At once the Farmer’s Boy forgot all about the hollow stump. Lifting his gun to his shoulder, he took careful aim, but before he could pull the trigger a big drop of water spattered in his eye and he dropped the gun to take out his pocket handkerchief. Wait a minute, please, I’ve made a mistake. I meant to say he dropped his gun to brush the water from his eye with his coat sleeve.
“Now’s your chance!” shouted Busy Beaver.
Of course the Farmer’s Boy didn’t understand this warning, but the little rabbit did. Peeking out of the hollow stump for just a minute, he went hipperty hop, clipperty clip, lipperty lip down the Shady Forest Trail, past the wooded hillside where beneath a pile of rocks Danny Fox had his den.
“Now’s my chance,” thought Danny Fox, and out he jumped from his rocky bungalow.
“Dear, oh, dear me! Now what shall I do? I’m a goner, I know it!” cried the poor little bunny boy rabbit. “Yes, I’m a goner as sure as sunshine follows rain.”
“Stop whispering to yourself!” snarled the wicked fox. “I’ve a good mind to eat you right now before the Policeman Dog happens by with his big hickory stick.”
“Now’s my chance,” thought Danny Fox.
“Please do—I mean, please don’t! Oh, dear, oh, dear, I don’t know what I mean!” cried the poor frightened little bunny, his pink nose twinkling like a star on a frosty night.
“Gr-r-r!” snarled the old fox, creeping closer and closer till his hot breath burned the shivering little rabbit’s whiskers. “I’m going to eat you now. Make no mistake about it. You have given me the slip once too often.”