“Well, I guess we’ll be getting along now,” said Uncle Wiggily. “Are you still going to travel with me, Mr. Porcupine?”
“Oh, yes, I’ll come with you for a couple days more, and then if you don’t find your fortune I’ll start out by myself, and perhaps I can find it for you.”
So the two friends went on together. They traveled over hills and down dales, and once they met a lame rabbit, who had the epizootic very bad. Uncle Wiggily showed him how to make a crutch out of a cornstalk, just as Nurse Jane Fuzzy-Wuzzy, the muskrat, had done, and the lame rabbit made himself one and was much obliged.
Then, a little later they met a duck with only one good leg, and the other one was made of wood, and this duck wanted to get over a fence but she couldn’t, on account of her wooden leg.
“Pray, how did you lose your leg?” asked Uncle Wiggily, as he and the porcupine kindly helped her over the rails.
“Oh, a bad rat bit it off,” said the duck. “I was asleep in the pond one morning and before I knew it a rat swam up under water, and nipped off my leg.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said the rabbit. “I’ll tell Alice and Lulu and Jimmie Wibblewobble, my duck friends, to be careful of bad rats in their pond.”
“That’s a good idea,” spoke the duck with the wooden leg, and then she said good-by and waddled away.
After that Uncle Wiggily and the porcupine traveled on some more, and, as it got to be very warm they thought they would lie down in a shady place and take a little sleep.
Well, they picked out a nice place under a clump of ferns, that leaned over a little babbling brook, and touched the tips of their green leaves into the cool water. And, before he knew it, dear old Uncle Wiggily was fast, fast asleep, and he snored the least little bit, but please don’t tell any one about it.
Then pretty soon the porcupine was asleep too, only he didn’t snore any, though I’m not allowed to tell you why just now. I may later, however.
Well, in a little while, something is going to happen. In fact, it’s now time for it to begin. Yes, here comes the stingery wasp. Listen, and you can hear him buzz.
“Buzz! Buzz! Bizzy-buzzy-buzzy!” went the stingery wasp, as he flew over the place where the rabbit and porcupine were sleeping. And the wasp flitted and flapped his bluish wings and lifted up the sharp end of his body where be carries his stingery-sting.
“Ah, ha! I see something to sting!” thought the wasp. “Now, I wonder which one I shall sting first? I think I will try the porcupine, and then I will sting the rabbit.” Oh, but he was a bad wasp, though; wasn’t he, eh?
Well, he was all ready to sting the porcupine, when suddenly the wasp heard a voice calling to him from the bushes.
“Don’t sting the porcupine, Mr. Wasp, sting the rabbit,” said the rasping voice.
“Why should I do that?” asked the wasp, as he looked to see if his sting needed sharpening.