“Oh, but listen!” cried the muskrat lady. “Baby Bunty jumped in your auto while you were asleep, and she sprinkled some pepper on the bologna sausage tires, and now she’s riding away! Run after her! Hop after her and catch her in the auto, or she may be hurt!”
“Oh, my! Oh, my goodness!” cried Uncle Wiggily. He was wide awake now, and he forgot all about his stiff joints and wanting to rest.
On through the woods he hopped. Faster and faster rode Baby Bunty in the runaway auto. Faster and faster hopped Uncle Wiggily. Quicker and quicker went Baby Bunty in the skippily auto. Quicker and quicker hopped Uncle Wiggily after her.
“Stop! Stop!” cried the rabbit gentleman. “What are you trying to do?”
“Oh! I wanted to have some fun, and make you chase me,” said Baby Bunty. “But I didn’t mean to go so fast, and now I can’t stop! Save me! Save me!”
“I will if I can!” panted Uncle Wiggily. He wasn’t a bit lazy or sleepy now. Nor were his joints stiff! He was as lively as a cricket.
Suddenly, just as Baby Bunty, not knowing much about automobiles, was going to run into a tree, Uncle Wiggily gave a big skip and a hop and caught up to her. In he jumped, shut off the gasolene, put on the brakes and saved Bunty. Then the little rabbit girl smiled sweetly and said:
“Thank you, Uncle Wiggily. I thought I could make you come and have a ride with me.”
“Well—dont—do—it—again!” said the rabbit gentleman, all out of breath like. “You are getting too lively for me, Baby Bunty! Altogether too lively!”
Still he liked her, and if the can opener doesn’t take the top off the powdered sugar basin and make the goldfish sneeze, I’ll tell you next about Uncle Wiggily and Bunty’s balloon.