“Mother says Juggerjook knows everything that goes on in the forest,” declared the rabbit, gravely.
“Your mother’s a ’fraid-cat and trembles when a twig cracks,” said Chatter, with a careless laugh. “Why don’t you have a little spirit of your own, Fuzzy, and be independent?”
Fuzzy Wuz was quite young, and ashamed of being thought shy, so she said:
“All right, Chat. Let’s go take a peep at Juggerjook’s den.”
“We’re near it, now,” announced the squirrel. “Come this way; and go softly, Fuzzy Wuz, because Juggerjook has sharp ears.”
They crept along through the bushes some distance after that, but did not speak except in whispers. Fuzzy knew it was a bold thing to do. They had nothing to carry to the terrible Juggerjook, and it was known that he always punished those who came to his den without making him presents. But the rabbit relied upon Chatter Chuk’s promise that the tyrant of the forest would never know they had been near him. Juggerjook was considered a great magician, to be sure, yet Chatter Chuk was not afraid of him. So why should Fuzzy Wuz fear anything?
The red squirrel ran ahead, so cautiously that he made not a sound in the underbrush; and he skilfully picked the way so that the fat white rabbit could follow him. Presently he stopped short and whispered to his companion:
“Put your head through those leaves, and you will see Juggerjook’s den.”
Fuzzy Wuz obeyed. There was a wide clearing beyond the bushes, and at the farther side was a great rock with a deep cave in it. All around the clearing were scattered the bones and skulls of animals, bleached white by the sun. Just in front of the cave was quite a big heap of bones, and the rabbit shuddered as she thought of all the many creatures Juggerjook must have eaten in his time. What a fierce appetite the great magician must have!