Well, it wasn't very long after this before Uncle Wiggily got to the top of a hill. When he started to climb up from the bottom he thought perhaps there might be gold at the top, but when he did get to the summit all he found there was a big green thing, with stripes on.
"I wonder what this can be?" thought the rabbit. "It looks like a baseball, and yet it's too large for that, and besides it isn't quite round. And, once more, it's green instead of white, for all baseballs are white. Ha! I know what it is. That must be a football which the boys kick about. I guess I'll kick it. Perhaps there may be gold inside."
So he got ready to kick it, but you know how it is with old gentlemen rabbits who have the rheumatism and have to go about on a crutch. As soon as Uncle Wiggily lifted up one foot--the one that had no rheumatism in it--and when he leaned on his crutch, the crutch suddenly slipped, and down he went ker-flumux ker-flimix all in a heap.
"Well, here's a pretty kettle of fish!" he cried. "I ought never to have tried to kick that green football. I should have waited until it was ripe."
So he sat down on top of the hill, and looked at the ocean tumbling and foaming on the beach below him, and he waited for the green football to get ripe. And, every once in a while he would poke it with his crutch to see if it was getting soft, but it wasn't.
And once, right after he did this, the old gentleman rabbit heard some one cry out:
"My goodness, Uncle Wiggily! What are you doing?"
"Waiting for this green football to get ripe so that I can kick it," was the rabbit's reply.
"Oh, ho! Oh, ha!" laughed the grasshopper for it was that leaping insect who had spoken, "that is not a football, it is a watermelon, and inside it is all red and sweet and juicy. Come, if you can, cut it open, we will have a fine feast. I haven't had any watermelon in some time. Can you cut it?"
"Oh, I can cut it fast enough," declared the rabbit. "Here goes, and I hope it is better looking on the inside than it is on the outside."