“Stop! Sit still!” cried Uncle Wiggily like a policeman life-saver dog at Asbury Park. “Do not jump over the moon, or anywhere else.”
“But we are falling down!” cried the cow. “We shall be hurt when we hit the ground. I must jump before it is too late.”
“Stay right in!” said Uncle Wiggily, as he steered the falling airship out of the way of a church steeple. “The soft sofa cushions, filled with Wibblewobble duck feathers, will not let us be hurt. We will fall on them!” cried the rabbit gentleman. “Don’t be in the least afraid. We shall fall on the cushions!”
And, surely enough they did. Down they came on the hard ground, but with the sofa cushions under them it was like falling on a feather bed, so neither the rabbit gentleman nor the Moo-Cow was hurt in the least. The cow was sorry her sharp horns had burst the balloons, but Uncle Wiggily politely said that did not in the least matter.
“I can easily mend them again,” he declared. “And maybe I shall have another adventure to-morrow.”
He did, and what it was I shall have the pleasure of telling you in the next story—that is if the lawn mower doesn’t run out in the street and cut the wheels off the automobile so the rag doll has to ride in the express wagon. The story will be about Uncle Wiggily and the sheep.
STORY XXXI
UNCLE WIGGILY AND THE SHEEP
Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy, the muskrat lady, was sweeping and dusting the birch-bark bungalow, in the country woods, where she and Uncle Wiggily Longears, the rabbit gentleman, were spending a few days’ vacation.
“It is very nice here,” thought Nurse Jane, as she put some flowers in the dishpan to make the kitchen table look decorated. “I am glad we came.”
And she looked out of the window to see what Mr. Longears was doing. He was pumping some hot air into the red, white and blue circus balloons of his airship. He had mended them after the Moo-Cow’s horns had accidentally punctured holes in them, as I told you last night, if you will kindly remember.