chance!” thought the cat. “I’ll grab ’em both, and eat ’em!” So she made a spring, but she didn’t jump quite far enough and she missed both Bully and Dickie. Dickie flew up into a tree, and so he was safe, but Bully couldn’t fly, though he hopped away.

After him jumped the cat, and she cried:

“I’ll get you yet!”

Bully hopped some more, but the cat raced toward him, and nearly had the froggie. Then began quite a chase. The cat was very quick, and she kept after Bully so closely that she was making him very tired. Pretty soon his jumps weren’t as long as they had been at first. And the cat was keeping him away from the pond, too, for she knew if he jumped into that he would get away, for cats don’t like water, or rain.

But finally Bully managed to head himself back toward the pond, and the cat was still after him. Oh, how savage she looked with her sharp teeth, and her glaring eyes! Poor Bully was much frightened.

All of a sudden, as he hopped nearer and nearer to the pond, he thought of a trick to play on that cat. He pretended that he could hardly hop any more, and only took little steps. Nearer and nearer sneaked the cat, lashing her tail. At last she thought she could give one big spring, and land on Bully with her sharp claws.

She did spring, but Dickie, up in the tree, saw her do it, and he called to his friend Bully to look out. Then Bully gave a great big hop and landed on the water-wheel, and the cat was so surprised that she jumped, too, and before she knew it she had leaped on the wheel also. Around and around it went, with Bully and the cat on it, and water splashed all over, and the cat was so wet and miserable that she forgot all about eating Bully. But Bully only liked the water, and didn’t mind it a bit.

Then the frog boy hopped off the wheel to the shore and hurried away, with Dickie flying overhead, and the cat, who was now as wet as a sponge, and very dizzy from the wheel going around so fast, managed to jump ashore a little while afterward. But her fur was so wet and plastered down that she couldn’t chase after Bully any more, and he got safely home; and the cat had to stay in the sun all day to dry out. But it served her right, I think.

Now in case the little boy next door doesn’t take our baby carriage and make an automobile of it, I’ll tell you next about Bawly and Uncle Wiggily.

Bawly No-Tail, the frog boy, was hopping along through the woods one fine day, whistling a merry tune, and wondering if he would meet any of his friends, with whom he might have a game of ball. He had a baseball with him, and he was very fond of playing. I just wish you could have seen him stand up on his hind legs and catch balls in his mouth. It was as good as going to the best kind of a moving picture show. Perhaps some day you may see Bawly.

Well, as I said, he was hopping along, tossing the ball up into the air and catching it, sometimes in his paw and sometimes in his mouth, when, all of a sudden he heard a funny pounding noise, that seemed to be in the bushes.

“Gracious, I wonder what that can be!” exclaimed Bawly, looking around for a good place to hide.

He was just going to crawl under a hollow stump, for he thought perhaps the noise might be made by a bad wolf, or a savage fox, sharpening his teeth on a hard log, when Bawly heard some one say:

“There, I’ve dropped my hammer! Oh, dear! Now I’ll have to climb all the way down and get it, I s’pose.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound like a wolf or a fox,” thought Bawly. “I guess it’s safe to go on.”

So he didn’t hide under the stump, but hopped along, and in a little while he came to a place in the woods where there were no trees, and, bless you! if there wasn’t the cutest little house you’ve ever seen! It wasn’t quite finished, and, in fact, up on the roof was Uncle Wiggily Longears, the old gentleman rabbit, putting on the shingles to keep out the rain if it came.

“Oh, hello, Uncle Wiggily!” called Bawly, joyfully.

“Hello,” answered the rabbit carpenter. “You are just in time, Bawly. Would you mind handing me my hammer? It slipped and fell to the ground.”

“Of course I’ll throw it up to you,” said Bawly, kindly. “But you had better get behind the chimney, Uncle Wiggily, for I might hit you with the hammer, though, of course, I wouldn’t mean to. You see I am a very good thrower from having played ball so much.”

“I see,” answered Uncle Wiggily. “Well, I’ll get behind the chimney.”

So Bawly picked up the hammer and he threw it carefully toward the roof, but, would you believe me, he threw it so hard that it went right over the house, chimney and all, and fell down on the other side.

“My! You are too strong!” exclaimed Uncle Wiggily laughing so that his fur shook. “Try again, Bully, if you please.”

“Oh, I’m Bawly, not Bully,” said the frog boy.

“Excuse me, that was my mistake,” spoke the old gentleman rabbit. “I’ll get it right next time, Peetie—I mean Bawly.”

Well, Bawly threw the hammer again, and this time it landed right on the roof close to the chimney, and Uncle Wiggily picked it up and began nailing on more shingles.

“If you please,” asked Bawly, when he had watched the rabbit carpenter put in about forty-’leven nails, “who is this house for?”

“It is for Sammie and Susie Littletail,” answered Uncle Wiggily. “They are going to have rabbit play-parties in it, and I hope you and Bully will come sometimes.”

“We’ll be glad to,” spoke Bawly. Then Uncle Wiggily drove in another nail, and the house was almost done.

“How do you get up and down off the roof?” asked Bawly, who didn’t see any ladder.

“Oh, I slide up and down a rope,” answered Uncle Wiggily. “I have a strong cord fastened to the chimney, and I crawl up it, just like a monkey-doodle, and when I want to come down, I slide down. It’s better than a ladder, and I can climb a rope very well, for I used to be a sailor on a ship. See, here is the rope.”

Well, he took hold of it, near where it was fastened to the chimney, to show the frog boy how it was done, but, alas, and also alack-a-day! All of a sudden that rope became untied, it slipped out of Uncle Wiggily’s paw and fell to the ground! Now, what do you think about that?

“Oh, my! Now I have gone and done it!” exclaimed the elderly rabbit, as he leaned over the edge of the roof and looked down. “Now I am in a pickle!—if you will kindly excuse the expression. How am I ever going to get down? Oh, dear me, suz dud and a piece of sticking-plaster likewise. Oh, me! Oh, my!”

“Can’t you jump, Uncle Wiggily?” asked Bawly.

“Oh, my, no! I might be killed. It’s too far! I could never jump off the roof of a house.”

“Perhaps you can climb down from one window shutter to the other, and so get to the ground,” suggested Bawly.

“No,” said Uncle Wiggily, looking over the edge of the house again. “There are no window shutters on as yet. So I can’t climb on ’em.”

Well, it did seem as if poor Uncle Wiggily would have to stay up there on the roof for a long, long time, for there was no way of getting down.

“If there was a load of hay here, you could jump on that, and you wouldn’t be hurt,” said Bawly, scratching his nose.

“But there is no hay here,” said the