Little Jack Rabbit's big blue book
up and up and up into the air until it ended in a queer shaped something with a long tail that swung to and fro as Billy Breeze laughed and whistled across the white cloud meadows of the sky.

Yes, sir, Little Jack Rabbit almost bumped into the Farmer’s Boy. You see, the little bunny, looking up into the sky as he hopped along, had paid little attention to his feet.

“Hello!” exclaimed the Farmer’s Boy. “Your eyes are filled with tears. What’s the matter, little rabbit?”

“Oh, dear, oh, dear!” cried the little bunny. “Hungry Hawk has carried off little Timmie Meadowmouse.”

“Where to?” asked the Farmer’s Boy, curiously.

“Do you see that little speck?” asked the sorrowful little rabbit, pointing upward.

“Yes,” answered the Farmer’s Boy. “Just to the right of my kite. Yes, I see it.”

“That’s Hungry Hawk,” sobbed the little bunny boy. “He has Timmie Meadowmouse in his claws.”

“I’m sorry,” answered the Farmer’s Boy, and then, all of a sudden, he started to run across the Sunny Meadow, pulling in the kite string at the same time. For a moment Little Jack Rabbit was too surprised to move. Then away he hopped after the Farmer’s Boy. You see, the little bunny was so sorry for the poor little mouse that he forgot all about his fear of the Farmer’s Boy. Yes, indeed, that’s what sorrow does sometimes, and maybe oftener. When we are sorry for some one else we often forget our own troubles.

By the time the little rabbit had caught up to the Farmer’s Boy there was a great commotion going on ’way up in the big blue sky. Oh, my, yes. I tell you what, that Farmer’s Boy was a clever fellow. He hadn’t lived on a farm all his life for nothing. No, indeed. He had taught himself things which the old schoolmaster never dreamed of as he sat at his desk in the little red school house on the hill, where the children’s feet were never still. My, how strangely that boy behaved! Suddenly he would dash off to the right, then away to the left; then backward, next forward, sometimes letting out the string, or winding it up again.

“What is he doing?” thought the little bunny boy, gazing up into the sky at the big kite, which seemed only a trifle larger than Hungry Hawk. Oh, dear, I’m 
 Prev. P 32/158 next 
Back Top
Privacy Statement Terms of Service Contact