Now, you know, when an elephant cries it isn't like when you cry once in a great while, or when baby cries every day. No, indeed! An elephant cries so very many tears that if you don't have a water pail near you, to catch them, you may get your feet wet; that is, if you don't have on rubbers.
Well, that's the way it was this time. The elephant was crying big, salty tears, about the size of rubber balls, and they were rolling down from his eyes and along his trunk, which was like a fire engine hose, until there was quite a little stream of water flowing down the hill toward the rabbit.
"Oh, please don't cry any more!" called Uncle Wiggily.
"Why not?" asked the elephant, sadly-like, and he cried harder than before.
"Because if you do," replied the rabbit, "I will have to get a pair of rubber boots, in which to wade out to see you."
"I'll try to stop," said the big animal, but, instead, he cried harder than before, boo-hooing and hoo-booing, until you would have thought it was raining, and Uncle Wiggily wished he had an umbrella.
"Why, whatever is the matter?" asked the rabbit.
"Oh, I stepped on a tack," answered the elephant, "and it is sticking in my foot. I can't walk, and I can't dance and I can't get back to the circus. Oh, dear! Oh, dear me, suz-dud and a red balloon! Oh, how miserable I am!"
"Too bad," said Uncle Wiggily. "Was it a large tack that you stepped on?"
"Was it?" asked the elephant, sort of painful-like. "Why, it feels as big as a dishpan in my foot. Here, you look, and perhaps you can pull it out."