“S-s-s-h!” whispered the sly old robber, “maybe the farmer will think you’re calling him!”
“Don’t you bother me, you old rascal.”
“I don’t care if he does,” answered Mrs. Cow, giving her head a toss, but quickly lowering it to bring the tips of her horns on a level with Danny Fox’s eyes. “Don’t you bother me, you old rascal.”
“Ha, ha!” laughed Danny Fox, carefully peering here and there, however, for fear some one might be coming by, “I’m not afraid of you. Besides, you have a thimble on each of your horns.”
They weren’t real thimbles, you know, but the little brass caps which the Farmer had fastened on. Danny Fox thought they were thimbles because Mrs. Fox used a thimble when she mended Bushytail’s coat or Slyboot’s trousers.
“I don’t care what you say, you old robber,” answered Mrs. Cow with a loud moo-oo! walking up to the fence as brave as a fireman or a policeman. “Get out, or I’ll toss you over the Bubbling Brook, or maybe farther!”
“Now, don’t get disagreeable,” whined the old fox, “I’m going along. Maybe I’ll find a nice little rabbit for supper.”
But he won’t catch Little Jack Rabbit. No, indeed! That dear little bunny boy is safe in the Old Bramble Patch.