Bawly thought, and thought, and thought, and finally he thought of his bean shooter, and the beans he still had with him.
“That’s the very thing!” he whispered. Then he hid down in the grass, where the boy couldn’t see him, and just as that boy was about to tie Jollie to the line, Bawly put a bean in the shooter, put the shooter in his mouth, puffed out his cheeks and “bango!” a bean hit the boy on the nose!
“Ha!” cried the boy. “Who did that?” He looked all around and he thought, maybe, it was a hailstone, but there weren’t any storm clouds in the sky. Then the boy once more started to tie Jollie to the line.
“Bungo!” went a bean on his left ear, hitting him quite hard.
“Stop that!” the boy cried, winking his eyes very fast.
“Cracko!” went a bean on his right ear, for Bawly was blowing them very fast now.
“Oh, wait until I get hold of you, whoever you are!” shouted the boy, looking all around, but he could see no one, for Bawly was hiding in the grass.
“Smacko!” went a bean on the boy’s nose again, and then he danced up and down, and was so excited that he dropped poor Jollie in the soft grass, and away the mousie scampered to where he saw Bawly hiding.
Then Bawly kindly loosened the knots in the mousie’s tail, picked up the ball, and away they both scampered back to the game, and told their friends what had happened. And maybe Jollie wasn’t thankful to Bawly! Well, I just guess he was! And that boy was so kerslastrated, about not being able to find out who blew the beans at him, that he stood right up on his head and wiggled his feet in the air, and then ran into the house.
Now, if it should happen that our pussy cat doesn’t go roller skating and fall down and hurt its little nose so he can’t lap up his milk, I’ll tell you next about Bully and the water bottle.