“Oh, I wonder how I am to get down?” said Uncle Wiggily. “It is very far from the top of this tree to the earth, and I cannot climb, as the Bushytail squirrel boys, or as Kittie Kat can. What shall I do? Oh, dear!”
And just then along came Johnnie Bushytail, the squirrel boy, himself.
“I’ll help you get down!” called Johnnie to Uncle Wiggily. “I’ll get a rope, and climb up with it to you. Then you can make a rope ladder, fasten one end to a limb of the tree, and climb down that.”
“Fine!” cried Uncle Wiggily. The little squirrel boy found a grape vine rope, and up the tree he scrambled, carrying one end of it up to Uncle Wiggily, who soon made a rope ladder, such as sailors use. Then the rabbit gentleman came down on that as nicely as you please.
“Well, my airship is badly broken,” he said, as he looked at the burst balloons and the bent and twisted clothes basket. “I shall have to fix it before I can sail again.”
“Do you mean to tell me you are going up in that dangerous thing again?” asked Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, as she stuck a piece of red, white and blue court plaster on Uncle Wiggily’s nose, where the hail stone had hit him.
“I am going to try,” he said, modest like, and shy.
“Oh, dear me, and some popcorn cakes!” cried Nurse Jane. “I never saw such a rabbit—never!”
Then Uncle Wiggily got old dog Percival, with the express wagon, to cart home the broken airship. And in the story after this, if the ice cream cone doesn’t jump up and down on the tablecloth, and poke holes in the loaf of bread, I’ll tell you about Uncle Wiggily and the little birds.