So the hare buckled on his belt, in which he kept his flint and steel, and made ready a plaster of red peppers.
Going into the forest, he saw Mr. Badger walking home with a load of fagots and brush on his back. Creeping up softly behind him, the hare set the bundle on fire. The badger kept on, until he heard the crackling of the burning twigs. Then he jumped wildly, and cried out, "Oh, I wonder what that noise is!"
"Oh, this is the Clack-clack Mountain; it always is crackling here," said the hare, looking down from the top of the hill.
The fire grew more lively, and the badger became scared. He fell down, and threw out his fore-paws wildly.
"Katchi-katchi" (clack-clack), went the dry fagots, as the red-hot coals flew about.
"What can it be?" said Mr. Badger.
"This mountain is called Katchi-katchi (Clack-clack); don't you know that?" said the hare, coolly standing on the bridge, and leaning on his axe.
"Oh! oh! oh! help me!" howled the badger, as the blazing twigs began to burn the hair off his back. And running through the woods to a stream near by, he plunged in, and the fire was put out. But his running had only increased the fire and burning, and his back was all raw. When the hare found the badger at home in his house, he was howling in misery, and expecting to die from his burn.
"Let me take a look at your burn, Mr. Badger," said the hare; "I have some famous salve to cure it"—as he pretended to be very pitiful, and held up a bowl of what seemed to be fine salve in one paw, while in the other was a soft brush of fine hair. Then the hare clapped on the red-pepper plaster, and ran away, while the badger rolled in pain.