“Try the middle course.”
Peering over the edge of the Pole, Mr. Bushy Tail espied on the ground, far below, a funny little creature, such as he had never seen before. It was covered with long blue quills, and moved slowly, and with much dignity.
“What is the middle course?” asked Mr. Bushy Tail, timidly.
“Why the middle of the Pole, you goose!” replied the squeaky voice.
Mr. Bushy Tail thought this mode of address not strictly polite, especially to a stranger, but he said nothing, and looked about him on top of the Pole.
Sure enough, right in the middle was a little winding staircase, down which he scrambled into darkness.
A Quilly Acquaintance
