“But it’s a dreadful night outside. Hear it rain.”
“Yes, but it would be more dreadful to stay here until Great Horn and Puma appeared. Puma would kill me, and Great Horn would pounce upon you.”
“Yes, of course, we must go—right away, rain or no rain.”
Bumper, who had been listening to the conversation, hopped to the entrance, and then came back. “If I’m any judge,” he said, “I don’t think you’ll have such a wet trip. That shower was the last. The clouds are breaking away, and the moon will soon be out.”
White Tail was instantly on his feet, and beat Rusty to the front where the two of them gazed up at the rain clouds now growing thin and ragged in places. They saw a star twinkle in the east, and then another and another. The storm was, indeed, over, and the night trip through the woods would not be so disagreeable.
“I must be off at once, Rusty,” White Tail said. “Puma may be back any minute.”
“You can’t start any too soon to suit me, White Tail, for if Puma comes Great Horn will be with him. Come on! I’m ready.”
“It seems to me,” remarked Bumper, “you don’t consider me at all. I’m not even invited to go with you.”
“We thought you’d prefer to stay in this dry camp,” replied White Tail. “It’s very comfortable here, and you can hide under the spruce boughs.”
The White Rabbit sniffed. “How long do you suppose it would take Puma to find me?” he asked. “When he found you’d gone, he’d eat me up instead. A rabbit makes only a mouthful for Puma, but it’s better than nothing. No, I’m going with you.”