Mr. Wicked Wolf Page #2

"Mr. Wicked Wolf" by David Cory is a whimsical children's tale that follows the adventures of a cunning wolf who uses his cleverness to outsmart the other animals in the forest. The story explores themes of wit, friendship, and the consequences of one’s actions, as the mischievous wolf learns valuable lessons about honesty and kindness. With charming illustrations and engaging prose, this delightful book captures the imagination of young readers while imparting moral lessons.

• Children

								

match on his furry trouser leg, commenced to smoke.

“Now’s your chance!” whispered the little voice from the treetop.

Out jumped the little rabbit, but as he was about to hop away, oh,
dear me! again the little voice from the treetop whispered:

“Wait—a—minute.”

“Oh, oh, oh!” sighed the little bunny, “I don’t want to wait. I want
to get away!” But he minded the little voice from the treetop.

“Pick up—that stone—and slip—it in—the sack—oh,—so—care-ful-ly.”

And the little rabbit, all a-tremble, his little heart
a-pitter-patter and his little knees a-clitter-clatter, picked up the
stone and slipped it in the sack, oh, so care-ful-ly.

“Wait—a—minute!” whispered the little voice for the third time, as he
was about to hop away.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh!” sighed the little bunny, looking over his shoulder
at Mr. Wicked Wolf’s hairy back, “if I wait another minute I’ll never
get away.” But he minded the little voice from the treetop.

“Pin up the slit—in the sack—with three—pine needle—pins,” whispered
the little voice. All a-tremble, the poor, distracted little rabbit
hunted on the ground under the big pine tree until he found the three
little pins. Then, oh, so, care-ful-ly, he pinned up the slit in the
sack.

“Now’s your chance!” whispered the little voice. “Hide!”

The next minute the little rabbit had hopped behind a tree. Buttoning
up his pretty white fur overcoat so that it wouldn’t show around the
trunk and drawing together the tips of his little ears, he waited,
oh, so anxiously, for maybe just a minute or three.

“Guess I’m rested now!” said Mr. Wicked Wolf, knocking the ashes from
his pipe and slipping it in his pocket. Then, drawing the sack up on
his shoulder, he started off for home.

“My, what a heavy little bunny you are!” he growled, as he trotted
through the woods.

Pretty soon he jumped over the Bubbling Brook. But when he landed on
the other side,

    The great big stone
      In the sack
    Hit him a dreadful
      Whack on the back.

“Oh, my! What a tough little rabbit you are! But wait till I get you
home! Mrs. Wolf will stew you until you’re nice and soft and tender!
Ha, ha!”

“Hey, mother,” he shouted, on reaching his little stone house on the
wooded hillside, “I have a nice little rabbit for supper.”

Letting the sack slip to the ground, Mr. Wicked Wolf untied it, oh,
so care-ful-ly! But, goodness gracious me! When he peeked in and saw
a big stone instead of a tender little rabbit, wasn’t he angry?

Shoving in his paw, he pulled out the stone and hurled it across the
Sunny Meadow. Whack! it came up against the old apple tree, knocking
off twenty big red apples, which almost hit Little Jack Rabbit as he
hopped safely back to the dear Old Bramble Patch, where Lady Love,
his pretty bunny mother, stood waiting for her little boy at the gate
in the old picket fence.

“Cousin Cottontail has invited us over this evening to hear the Jack
Rabbit Man tell stories,” she said, kissing her little bunny boy.

“Ha, ha! That will be fine!” cried the little bunny, forgetting all
about Mr. Wicked Wolf. Dear me, I wish that wicked wolf had forgotten
all about the little rabbit. Then, with a skip and jump, he hopped on
the porch.

“Hello, little rabbit boy,” twittered the canary from her gold cage.
“What makes you so happy?”

“Didn’t you hear what mother just said?” he asked, with a twinkle of
his pretty pink nose.

“No,” answered the pretty yellow bird. “What did she say?”

“That we are invited over to Cousin Cottontail’s to listen on the
radio.”

Just then something happened. Isn’t it a shame that unpleasant things
so often happen?

“No, you’re not going to hear bunny stories to-night,” growled a deep
ugly voice, and there, just outside the Old Bramble Patch, stood Mr.
Wicked Wolf. Dear me! How cruel he looked, his big red tongue hanging
out of his mouth and his long sharp teeth gleaming like bowie knives
in the sunlight.

“What—what are you here for?” asked the little rabbit, all a-tremble.

“Never you mind!” snarled the ugly beast. “I’ll wait here for you.”

“No, no, please don’t wait!” cried the frightened little rabbit.

“Gr-r-r!” growled the big ferocious animal; “I’d like to eat you. I
would, if I could only break through into the Old Bramble Patch.”

Little Jack Rabbit didn’t wait to hear more. Quickly taking down the
canary cage, he hopped one, two, three, go! into his little bungalow.

“Mother! Mother!” he shouted, skip-toeing into the kitchen,
“something dreadful is going to happen to-night. Mr. Wicked Wolf is
waiting outside.”

“You don’t say so!” cried the anxious lady bunny. “Oh, dear! oh,
dear! what shall we do? I declare, I wish your father wouldn’t go
away on business so often.”

“How will we hear the bunny stories to-night?” asked the little
rabbit.

“Goodness knows!” replied his mother. “Maybe I’d better telephone.”
But, dear, dear me! the wire was out of order and all you could hear
was a dreadful buzzing like a million bees.

“Well, if I’m not mad clear through and through,” said Lady Love.
“The idea of Mr. Wicked Wolf spoiling our evening. I believe he’s
done something to the telephone wire,” and the ex-as-per-ated lady
bunny again took down the receiver. Then, all of a sudden, she
hopped over to the electric drop-light and, unscrewing the silk cord
connection, placed it against the telephone.

Goodness me! What a howl of pain came from the outskirts of the Old
Bramble Patch. With a laugh, Lady Love hopped over to the back porch
and pointed to Mr. Wicked Wolf limping across the Sunny Meadow.

“He had pulled down my telephone wire,” cried the lady bunny, “but
he let go when I gave him a shock of electricity. Ha, ha! I guess he
won’t trouble us any more this evening.” Then putting on her little
sunny bonnet with the pinky roses on it, she and Little Jack Rabbit
hopped over to Cousin Cottontail’s house.
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