It isn't good for us to be too smart. It sometimes makes us vain, and then one day we overdo it. Bumper had some excuse for playing the trick on Mr. Crow and Mr. Fox, for his life depended upon it; but his success was giving him a little swelled head. He began to feel that he could get out of any danger by using his wits.

"It takes a city rabbit to find a way out of difficulty," he reflected, as he lay snugly in the hollow trunk of the tree. "These country animals are dull-witted. I do hope my cousins of the woods are not so stupid. Perhaps they are, and that's why people say rabbits are cunning but very stupid."

This sort of reasoning was the very thing that got him in trouble, and nearly caused his death. He was so sure that he had outwitted Mr. Fox, he decided after a while to leave the hollow trunk, and eat some of the green leaves and branches growing around outside.

But he knew less about the cunning and patience of the fox than he thought. Instead of trotting off in the woods, chagrined and disgusted by his defeat, the fox was lying low ready to pounce on the white rabbit the moment he showed himself. He was so still that Bumper couldn't hear the rustle of a leaf or the snap of a twig.

"I think I'll go out now," Bumper said finally. "I'm dreadfully hungry."

Instead of poking his head out cautiously to investigate, he walked straight from the hollow trunk into the very jaws of the fox. There was a sharp click of teeth, and Bumper felt a terrible pain in one of his long ears. He must have leaped five feet in the air, and another five feet sideways. The fox had missed his neck by an inch, but to make up for this mistake, he now pursued the rabbit, leaping nearly as high in the air to catch him as Bumper.

Terrified by the attack, and not knowing what to do, the white rabbit jumped this way and that, clearing high bushes and landing in dense thickets that tore his fur and hurt him terribly. But the fox followed him, paying no attention to the briers and thorns.

It was a narrow escape. For a moment Bumper thought his time had come. He couldn't get back to the hollow tree trunk, and there was no other hiding-place near that the fox couldn't follow him in.

It certainly would have gone hard with him, and the rest of his adventures could never have been told, if a couple of blue jays hadn't built a nest in a tree directly over him. The commotion in the bushes startled the birds, and with loud, shrill cries they darted down to see what was doing. The sight of the fox angered them. Foxes robbed birds' nests whenever they got a chance, and the blue jays knew this. Therefore, a fox in the neighborhood of their home was not to be tolerated.

They flew down like two blue streaks and landed their sharp bills on the head and face of Mr. Fox. One stroke came so near to one of his eyes that he dodged and ducked, and stopped pursuing Bumper long enough to snap at the birds.

But the blue jays were prepared for this, and they kept well beyond his reach. As soon as he turned from them to the rabbit again they flew back to the attack. They punished him unmercifully, pecking at him until he was so angry that he could hardly see straight.

Meanwhile, of course, Bumper was taking advantage of this interruption. He was running through the underbrush as fast as he could until he was far ahead. Right and left he searched for a hole or any kind of an opening he could crawl in. And there, just ahead of him, appeared what he was looking for! This time it was the hollow branch of a giant tree hanging down, with one end still attached to the trunk.

Bumper was in the hollow branch like a flash. Mr. Fox reached it just a moment too late, and to vent his anger at losing the rabbit the second time he clawed and snapped at the branch as if he would rip it asunder. But the limb, with a decayed heart, had a stout shell, and the fox soon gave it up in disgust.

Now, the hollow branch, as you know, had one end on the ground, and the other still attached to the trunk where the wind had broken it off. So Bumper found his hole slanting upward, and as he crawled through to the other end he was actually climbing a tree. Perhaps you have heard that rabbits can't climb trees, but Bumper did in this instance.

When he reached the upper end, he found himself ten feet from the ground, with Mr. Fox below and unable to reach him. It was such an unusual sight to see a rabbit up a tree that the fox was more puzzled than ever. "Could white rabbits climb trees?" he asked himself.

Between his discouragement at being twice outwitted, and his amazement at finding a white rabbit with pink eyes that could climb a tree, Mr. Fox finally dropped his tail between his legs and trotted away. Bumper watched him go, and sighed with relief. The blue jays were equally relieved in mind, and once more returned to their home to guard it against invasion.

When Bumper stuck his head out of the upper end of the big tree branch, he noticed that he was up among the birds which had been singing a lively concert until he interrupted them. There were birds which Bumper had never seen before, some with startling plumage, and others with voices that sounded like flutes.

They did not renew their singing, but perked their heads sideways and watched this strange thing popping out of the hollow limb. Finally one of them, Mrs. Oriole, clad in a suit of gold, streaked with black and gray, spoke.

"It's Mr. Rabbit's ghost, I do believe. Mr. Fox must have caught him after all."

"If it's a ghost, I'd like to have some of his white fur for my nest," remarked Rusty the Blackbird. "I think I'll steal some."

"He's a pretty lively ghost," warned Piney the Purple Finch. "I wouldn't venture too near."

Bumper blinked his pink eyes at them, and smiled.

"I'm not a ghost yet," he said. "I'm quite alive and well, but very hungry. If you don't mind I'll eat a few of these delicious green leaves."

The birds watched him in silence. They were as curious and puzzled as the Crow had been. Finally, Mr. Pine Grosbeak plucked up courage to approach nearer.

"If you're really alive," he said, "let me pluck some of those beautiful white hairs as souvenirs. I never saw such lovely fur before."

"You can have one hair," laughed Bumper, "just to prove to you that I'm a real live rabbit."

Mr. Pine Grosbeak took him at his word, and plucked a hair from his back. It made Bumper wince.

"Surely you'll give me one, too, for my nest," added Piney the Purple Finch, and without waiting for consent he plucked two. Rusty the Blackbird came swooping down next. "I need some of your beautiful white fur to show my little ones," he said. "I'll take three."

The other birds expressed their admiration, and then begged a few hairs, too. There was Mrs. Crested Flycatcher, and Mrs. Ph[oe]be Bird, and little Towhee the Chewink. The process of extracting a few hairs from his back caused Bumper exquisite pain, but he wanted to be obliging, especially as the birds all admired and flattered him.

But when Mr. Woodpecker, who had been rapping on the dead trees of the woods, appeared, Bumper decided it was time for him to call a halt. "That's all I can spare," he said, and darted back into the hollow branch.

He was glad to make friends with the birds, but he didn't want to be robbed of all the clothes he had.