Part 3 (2/2)

”I must go hunt for a nest,” said the little bird. ”You see, I want to begin housekeeping as early as I can this spring, and as there are so many birds coming up from the South, I want to get a house before all the best ones are taken.”

So, having thanked Sammie Littletail for showing her the way to the burrow, and also thanking his mamma and papa, the bird flew away. She promised, however, to come back if she could not find a place.

”That Mrs. Wren is a very nice creature indeed,” said Mamma Littletail.

”Indeed she is,” agreed Papa Littletail, as he started off to work in the carrot store, where he was employed as a bookkeeper.

”It is a nice day,” said Uncle Wiggily Longears, after a while. ”I think I will go for a walk. It may do my rheumatism good.”

”Can I come?” asked Sammie, but his uncle said he thought the little boy rabbit should stay home. So Sammie did, and he and Susie found a place where some nice clover was just coming up in a field.

Just before dinner time Uncle Wiggily Longears came limping back to the burrow. He was running as hard as he could, but that was not very fast.

”Why, Wiggily, whatever has happened?” asked Mrs. Littletail, who had come to the front door to see if her children were all right. ”Is your rheumatism worse? Why do you limp so?”

”Because,” answered Uncle Wiggily Longears, ”I have been shot.”

”Shot?” cried Mrs. Littletail.

”In the left hind leg,” went on Uncle Wiggily. ”The same leg that has the rheumatism so bad. Oh, dear! I wish you would send for Dr. Possum.”

”I will, right away. Sammie!” she called, ”come and go for Dr. Possum, for your uncle. He has been shot. How did it happen, Wiggily?”

”Well, I was down in the swamp, looking for some snakeroot, which Mr.

Drake said was good for rheumatism, when a man fired at me. I jumped, but not in time, and several pieces of lead are in my leg.”

”Oh, how dreadful!” cried Mamma Littletail.

In a little while Sammie came back with Dr. Possum.

”Ha! This is bad business,” spoke the long-tailed doctor, when he looked at Uncle Wiggily Longears's leg. ”I fear I shall have to operate.”

”Anything, so you get the shot out,” said the old rabbit.

So Dr. Possum tried to get the leaden pellets out, but he could not, they were in so deep.

”This is very bad business, indeed,” he went on. ”I fear I shall have to take your leg off.”

”Will it hurt?” asked Uncle Wiggily Longears.

”Um-er-well, not very much,” said the doctor, as he twirled his gla.s.ses on his tail.

Just then, who should come into the burrow but Mrs. Wren. She was very much surprised to see Uncle Wiggily lying on a bed of soft gra.s.s, with the doctor bending over him.

”What is the matter?” she asked.

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