“Oh, Jollie, it’s you, is it?” asked Mr. Stubtail. “No, I’m afraid you can’t help me. You see, this trap and chain are made of iron, and though you have very sharp little teeth to gnaw through wood, you can’t gnaw iron.”
“No,” said Jollie, “I can’t do that, but maybe I could go and get help for you.”
“So you can!” cried Mr. Stubtail, trying not to let the little mousie boy see how much pain he was in. “The very thing, Jollie. Run home and get Mr. Whitewash and Uncle Wigwag, and any one else you can, to come and get me out of this trap before the hunter comes.”
Away ran the mousie boy as fast as he could go. But it was a long way to the cave-house—not very far for a bear gentleman, perhaps, who can take long steps, but quite a distance for a little mouse chap.
“But I’ll get there in time!” cried Jollie. “I must save Mr. Stubtail, for he saved me. I’ll get there!”
Faster and faster he ran on. Once a bad fox tried to grab Jollie, but the mousie hid under a log until the fox had passed on. Again a big horned owl bird, with staring eyes, swooped down on him but Jollie dodged under a stone and the bird stubbed its beak, and didn’t get the mouse.
Then Jollie reached the cave-house and told what had happened to Mr. Stubtail.
Mrs. Stubtail was so excited that she nearly fainted and fell into a tub of water when she heard the news.
Aunt Piffy lost her breath completely this time, and it was several seconds before Jollie could run after it for her and bring it back.
“What!” cried Neddie, for he and Beckie had come home. “My papa in a trap!”