“I guess I’ll make a whistle.” So he cut off a little branch, about eight inches long, and with his knife he cut one end slanting, just like the part of a whistle that goes in your mouth. Then he made a hole for the wind to come out of.
Then he pounded the bark on the stick gently with his knife handle, and pretty soon the bark slipped off, just as mamma takes off her gloves after she’s been down to the five-and-ten-cent store. Then Bully cut away some of the white wood, slipped on the bark again, and he had a whistle.
“My! That’s fine!” he cried, as he blew a loud blast on it. “I think I’ll make another.”
So he made a second one, and then he went on through the woods, blowing first one whistle and then the other, like the steam piano in the circus parade.
“Hello!” suddenly cried a voice in the woods, “who is making all that noise?”
“I am,” answered Bawly. “Who are you?”
“I am Sammie Littletail,” was the reply, and out popped the rabbit boy from under a bush. “Oh, what fine whistles!” he cried when he saw those Bawly had made. “I wish I had one.”
“You may have, Sammie,” answered Bawly kindly, and he gave his little rabbit friend the biggest and loudest whistle. Then the two boy animals went on through the woods, and pretty soon they came to a place where there was a pond of water.
“Excuse me for a minute,” said Bawly. “I think I’ll have a little swim. Will you join me, Sammie?” he asked, politely.
“No,” answered the rabbit, “I’m not a good swimmer, but I’ll wait here on the bank for you.”