What it was I will tell you on
the page after this one, when the bedtime story will be about Uncle
Wiggily and the camp fire--that is, if the cat across the street doesn't
untie the pink ribbon off our pussy's neck and put it on his ice cream
cone.
STORY XXIX
UNCLE WIGGILY AND THE CAMP FIRE
"Well, how do you find yourself this morning?" asked the berry bush of
Uncle Wiggily as the old gentleman rabbit peeped out to see if the bad
three-headed wushky-woshky had come back. "Are you all right?"
"Oh, yes, thank you kindly," spoke the rabbit, "but I was just wondering
how I could get out of here to go on and seek my fortune without being
scratched all to pieces."
"Can't you jump out just as you jumped in?" asked the bush, waving her
prickly arms, but taking care not to so much as even tickle Uncle Wiggily.
"No, there isn't room enough for me to get started to jump out," replied
the rabbit. "I'm afraid I'll have to stay here a long time, and I really
ought to be going on."
"Oh, I have a plan!" suddenly cried the bush. "You are a very good digger,
so why can't you dig a tunnel right under me? Start it inside here and
curve it up so that it comes outside of my prickly branches, and then you
won't be scratched."
"I'll do it!" cried Uncle Wiggily, so with his strong front feet he dug a
tunnel, just as you sometimes make in the sand, and soon he was safely
outside the berry bush.
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