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Little Jack Rabbit and Danny Fox

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<h2>TIMMY MEADOWMOUSE</h2> Now that the Sunny Meadow was covered with snow little Timmy Meadowmouse had a hard time of it. If he wanted to go anywhere he had to dig tunnels from his little house under the snow. Yes, sir. The Sunny Meadow was full of little subways that Timmy Meadowmouse had made. It was pretty lonely ’way out on the meadow, so one day he started to tunnel over to the Old Bramble Patch to see Little Jack Rabbit. Besides, he wanted to eat the seeds in the little red balls that hang from the wild rose bushes in the winter time. So he set to work on his tunnel. By and by he76 climbed up a stiff stalk of meadowgrass and pushed his head out of the snow. Goodness me! How Billy Breeze was blowing! As soon as Timmy Meadowmouse had wiped the snow from his eyes, he saw the Old Bramble Patch not very far away. “It wouldn’t take a minute to run over,” he said to himself. “It’s such hard work digging through the snow.” Now, deep down in his heart, the little meadowmouse knew it was dangerous to run out over the snow. As long as he stayed down in his tunnels he was pretty safe. But to show himself when the only way he could possibly get back to his little house was through some of the small openings in the snow was very dangerous. Suppose Danny Fox, or Mr. Wicked Weasel, or Hungry Hawk, who are fond77 of fat little meadowmice, should chase him over the snow. And suppose he couldn’t get back to one of his subway entrances in time. Timmy Meadowmouse turned all these things over in his mind, and then—yes, sir, he did—he pushed out through the snow and scampered over to the Old Bramble Patch. But, oh dear me. He had gone only half way when up jumped Danny Fox, who had been hiding by the Old Rail Fence. He had been lying there so long that the snow had drifted over him, making him look just like a snowpile. If Timmy Meadowmouse had only seen the old fox’s eyes through the snow. But he hadn’t. But when the old robber jumped up, the poor little mouse saw him all right. It was too late to turn back, so with a78 frightened squeak, he made for the Old Bramble Patch. And just in time he ran in between the prickly stems and stalks and tumbled headlong into Little Jack Rabbit’s front door. “Oof! oof!” growled Danny Fox, who didn’t care to push through the prickly briars, “I’ve lost a nice dinner.” <hr class="divider" /> 79 <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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