"Oh, dear! O woe is me! O unhappiness!"
"Why, what is the matter?" asked Uncle Wiggily, curious-like!
"Oh, something is going to happen!" cried the crow. "I know it will rain or snow or freeze, or maybe my feathers will all blow off."
"Don't be silly!" said Uncle Wiggily. "You just come for an auto ride with me, and you'll feel better. Come along, bless your black tail!"
So Mr. Caw-caw got into the auto, and once more Uncle Wiggily started off. He had not gone very far before, all of a sudden, there was a bangity-bang noise, and the auto stopped so quickly that Uncle Wiggily and the crow were almost thrown out of their seats.
"There!" cried the black crow. "I knew something would happen!" and he cried "Caw! Caw! Caw!"
"It is nothing at all," said the rabbit gentleman as he got out to look. "Only the whizzicum-whazzicum has become twisted around the jump-over-the-clothes basket, and we can't go until it's fixed."
"Can't go?" asked the crow.
"Can't go—no," said Uncle Wiggily. And he didn't know what to do. But just then along came Old Dog Percival, who used to work in a circus.
"I'll pull you along," he said. "You sit in the auto and steer, and I'll pull you." And he did, by a rope fast to the car. The crow said it was funny to have a circus dog pulling an auto, but Uncle Wiggily did not mind, and soon they were at a place where the auto could be fixed. So Uncle Wiggily and the crow waited there, while the machine was being mended.