When he got out in the field, just beyond the woods, he looked for a man with a gun, but he could see no one. Down the road, however, he did see a friend he knew, and it was no one else than Uncle Wiggily Longears, the old gentleman rabbit. And Uncle Wiggily was standing beside something with four big wheels and a black front on it, and it had a wheel up by the seat, and a lot of shiny things on it, and there was a smell like gasoline coming from it.
"My! I wonder what it is that Uncle Wiggily has?" thought the green monkey. "It looks like a carriage, but there is no horse to it. However, I'm going to ask him to save me from the man with the gun."
And as Jumpo ran toward the old gentleman rabbit, once more there sounded that banging noise, and the monkey saw Uncle Wiggily jump back very quickly.
"Why, it's Uncle Wiggily who is shooting!" cried Jumpo. "Oh, you Uncle Wiggily!" called the monkey. "Please don't shoot me!"
"Shoot! I'm not going to shoot anybody," said the rabbit. "I'd like to shoot my automobile, though, for it won't go, and it is making those banging noises like a gun. I never saw such a machine—never in all my travels to seek my fortune. Here I am—stuck!"
"Oh, ho! An automobile, eh?" cried Jumpo.
"Yes," said the rabbit, "since I got so rich I bought one of them, and now I wish I hadn't. Here I am, miles from home, and I can't get it to go. I've twisted the thing-a-ma-bob, and poured oil down the what-is-it, and squirted gasoline on the dingus-dingus, and wiggled the touch-me-not, and jiggled the who-is-it and even tickled the tinkerum-tankerum. Still it won't go, and it keeps making that bang-bang noise like a gun whenever I turn the crank. Oh, and my rheumatism hurts me so! And I'm so tired!"
"Perhaps I can help," said Jumpo. "Does that crank in front make music like a hand organ?"
"I only wish it did," spoke the rabbit, as he gave it another twist. But there was only another bang.
"I give up!" cried Uncle Wiggily. "That crank doesn't do anything."