No rabbit had ever dared to cross it. It was supposed to be an impossible feat. The tree was so small and slippery that it afforded small chance for an animal without claws to walk across it. It hung fifty feet from the river’s bed so that a fall from it meant almost sure death.
It was foolhardy to try it. Bobby Gray Squirrel could run across it easily, but that was because he had claws with which to cling to it. Sleepy the Opossum and Washer the Raccoon could likewise walk across the bridge without fear of falling. But for a rabbit, whose feet were not made to climb, it was a dangerous undertaking.
“Oh, no, not that!” exclaimed Fuzzy Wuzz, shuddering.
“Why not?” asked Spotted Tail. “It will be a wonderful record for any rabbit who can do it. What do you say, Bumper?”
“I’m willing if you are,” Bumper replied, feeling that he could not withdraw from the challenge.
“Then we will draw lots to see who goes first,” promptly added Spotted Tail, who had arranged the whole thing.
“That isn’t fair,” interrupted one of Bumper’s followers. “The challenger should go first.”
“Since when was drawing lots unfair?” queried Spotted Tail. “I appeal to your judgment, Old Blind Rabbit. Isn’t it fair?”
The old leader of the rabbits hesitated for a moment, but he had to admit that this form of selection had been common with his people as long as he could recollect.
So when he decided in favor of Spotted Tail, the work of choosing their order of going across the bridge began. There were ten who stepped forward to accept the challenge. The Old Blind Rabbit held the sticks as each one stepped up to choose. Bumper got the short one, either through chance or through some trick Spotted Tail had arranged. No one could say which it was, but a murmur of dissent went up at once.