Shrike the Butcher Bird was as good as his word. He was a vindictive bird, and it actually gave him pleasure in spreading Spotted Tail’s message because all the other birds had refused. First he went to White Tail at the far end of the woods, for he knew that White Tail was a big rabbit who, at one time, had had trouble with the Old Blind Rabbit.

“Oh, White Tail,” called the Shrike, “here is news for you! Bumper the White Rabbit has been proclaimed king of the woods by Old Blind Rabbit, and he intends to make all of you his slaves.”

White Tail reared himself on his hind legs, and clicked his teeth. “If you’d come with good news, Shrike, I wouldn’t have believed you; but as the carrier of bad news I think there must be something in it. Who sent you?”

“Spotted Tail.”

“Ah! Spotted Tail! I never did like him, but I never knew him to spread false news. If 66Bumper comes to interfere with my family, he will—Well,” leering, “I will tell him what I think of him. Good-day, Shrike, and much obliged for your trouble.”

Next, Shrike the Butcher Bird interviewed Brindley the Lame, so named because of a limp he had from infancy. Brindley was a good-natured rabbit, and ruled over his burrow with kindness, and was loved wherever he went.

“Ah, Brindley!” cried Shrike, when he met him in front of his burrow sunning himself. “You look well to-day, and as fat as butter. Too bad to spoil your rest with bad news.”

“Bad news never spoil my rest,” was the grinning reply. “I always sleep over it, and then when I wake up I find it isn’t so bad as it seemed.”

“Well, you’ll think differently when I tell you this. All the rabbits in the woods are rising in revolt against Bumper the White Rabbit that has come here to rule over them as king.”

“Indeed! Who are all the rabbits you speak of?”

“Spotted Tail, White Tail, and many others.”

“Ah! Um!” sighed Brindley. “Then Bumper’d better look out. I wouldn’t want to be wearing his crown.”

“But aren’t you going to join the revolt?” 67asked the Shrike. “Or are you so good-natured you’d submit to any tyrant who came along?”

“I’m never so good-natured as when I’m thinking seriously, Shrike,” was the retort. “Now, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll sleep over it, and then I won’t do anything hasty.”

There was Crooked Ears, a big rabbit who ruled over a family of twenty in a burrow buried deep under the cliff; Pink Nose, whose family was noted for the remarkably pinkish tinge that decorated the tips of their noses; and Rolly Polly, who was so round and fat that he could roll down a hill faster than he could run. They lived in different parts of the woods, and it took all the morning for the Shrike to find them and spread the news.

They accepted the tale with different degrees of surprise and distrust. Rolly Polly was too fat and pleasant to let it worry him much, and Pink Nose was more interested in what Bumper looked like than his mission in the woods. When the Shrike explained that he was a pure white rabbit, with pink eyes, Pink Nose eagerly asked:

“What’s the color of his nose?”

Knowing his fondness for pink-nosed rabbits, and fearing that he might claim kinship with Bumper if he said he had a pink nose, Shrike purposely stretched the truth.

68“It is all white, the same as his fur—everything white except his pink eyes.”

Pink Nose looked disappointed. “I wish he had a pink nose,” he said sadly. “Then I’d know he was related to me.”

“Pink! Oh! Ho!”............