eter Rabbit was happy. There was no question about that. You had only to watch him a few minutes to know it. He couldn’t hide that happiness any more than the sun at midday can hide when there are no clouds in the sky. Happiness seemed to fairly shoot from his long heels as they twinkled merrily this way and that way through the dear Old Briar-patch.  
Peter was doing crazy things. He was so happy that he was foolish. Happiness, you know, is the only excuse for foolishness. And Peter was foolish, very, very foolish. He would suddenly jump into the air, kick his long heels, off to one side, change his mind and dart the other way, run in a circle, and then plump himself down under a bush and sit as still as if he couldn’t move. Then, without any warning at all, he would cut up some other funny antic.
 
He was so foolish and so funny that finally Tommy, who, unseen by Peter, was watching him, laughed aloud. Perhaps Peter doesn’t like being laughed at. Most people don’t. It may be Peter was a little bit uncertain as to why he was being laughed at. Anyway, with a sudden of his hind-feet, he out of sight along one of his private little paths which led into the very thickest in the dear Old Briar-patch.
 
“I’ll have to come over here with my gun and get that rabbit for my dinner,” said Tommy, as he homeward. “Probably though, if I have a gun, I won’t see him at all. It’s funny how a fellow is forever seeing things when he hasn’t got a gun, and when he goes hunting he never sees anything!”
 
Tommy had come to the great gray stone which was his favorite resting-place. He sat down from sheer force of habit. Somehow, he never could get past that stone without sitting on it for a few minutes. It seemed to just beg to be sat on. He was still thinking of Peter Rabbit.
 
“I wonder what made him feel so frisky,” thought Tommy. Then he laughed aloud once more as he remembered how comical Peter had looked. It must be fun to feel as happy as all that. Without once thinking of where he was, Tommy exclaimed aloud: “I declare, I wish I were a rabbit!”
 
He was. His wish had come true. Just as quick as that, he found himself a rabbit. You see, he had been sitting on the wishing-stone. If he had remembered, perhaps, he wouldn’t have wished. But he had forgotten, and now here he was, looking as if he might very well be own brother to Peter Rabbit.
 
Not only did he look like Peter, but he felt like him. Anyway, he felt a crazy impulse to run and jump and do foolish things, and he did them. He just couldn’t help doing them. It was his way of showing how good he felt, just as shouting is a boy’s way, and singing is the way of a bird.
 
But in the very midst of one of his wildest whirls, he heard a sound that brought him up short, as still as a stone. It was the sound of a heavy thump, and it came from the direction of the Old Briar-patch. Tommy didn’t need to be told that it was a signal, a signal from Peter Rabbit to all other rabbits within hearing distance. He didn’t know just the meaning of that signal, and, because he didn’t, he just sat still.
 
Now it happens that that was exactly what that signal meant—to sit tight and not move. Peter had seen something that to him looked very suspicious. So on general principles he had signaled,[6] and then had himself sat still until he should discover if there was any real danger.
 
Tommy didn’t know this, but being a rabbit now, he felt as a rabbit feels, and, from the second he heard that thump, he was as frightened as he had been happy a minute before. And being frightened, yet not knowing of what he was afraid, he sat absolutely still, listening with all his might, and looking this way and that, as best he could, without moving his head. And all the time, he worked his nose up and down, up and down, as all rabbits do, and tested the air for strange smells.
 
Presently Tommy heard behind him a sound that filled him with terrible fear. It was a loud , sniff. Rolling his eyes back so that he could look behind without turning his head, he saw a dog and snuffing in the grass. Now that dog wasn’t very big as dogs go, but he was so much bigger than even the largest rabbit that to Tommy he looked like a giant. The terrible fear that filled him clutched at Tommy’s heart until it seemed as if it would stop beating.
 
What should he do, sit still or run? Somehow he was afraid to do either. Just then the matter was settled for him. “Thump, thump, thump!” the signal came along the ground from the Old Briar-patch, and almost any one would have known just by the short sharp sound that those meant “Run!” At just the same instant, the dog caught the of Tommy full and strong. With a roar of his great voice he sprang forward, his nose in Tommy’s tracks.
 
 
Tommy waited no longer. With a great bound he leaped forward in the direction of the Old Briar-patch. How he did run! A dozen bounds brought him to the Old Briar-patch, and there just before him was a tiny path under the brambles. He didn’t stop to question how it came there or who had made it. He in and along it to the very middle of the Old Briar-patch. Then he stopped to listen and look.
 
The dog had just reached the edge of the briars. He knew where Tommy had gone. Of course he knew. His nose told him that. He thrust his head in at the entrance to the little path and tried to crawl in. But the sly old brambles tore his long tender ears, and he with pain now instead of with the excitement of the chase. Then he backed out, and . He ran around the edge of the Old Briar-patch looking for some place where he could get in more comfortably. But there was no place, and after a while he gave up and went off.
 
Tommy sat right where he was until he was quite sure that the dog had gone. When he was quite sure, he started to explore the dear Old Briar-patch, for he was very curious to see what it was like in there. He found little paths leading in all directions. Some of them led right through the very thickest of ugly looking brambles, and Tommy found that he could run along these with never a fear of a single scratch. And as he along, he knew that here[10] he was safe, absolutely safe from most of his enemies, for no one bigger than he could possibly get through those briars without being terribly scratched.
 
So it was with a very comfortable feeling that Tommy peered out through the brambles and watched that annoying dog off in disgust. He felt that never, so long as he was within running distance of the dear Old Briar-patch, would he be afraid of a dog.
 
Right into the midst of his pleasant thoughts broke a rude “Thump, thump, thump!” It wasn’t a danger-signal this time. That is, it didn’t mean “Run for your life.” Tommy was very sure of that. And yet it might be a kind of danger-signal, too. It all depended on what Tommy to do.
 
There it was again—“Thump, thump,[11] thump!” It had an ugly, threatening sound. Tommy knew just as well as if there had been spoken words instead of thumps on the ground that he was being warned to get out of the Old Briar-patch—that he had no right there, because it belonged to some one else.
 
But Tommy had no intention of leaving such a fine place, such a beautifully safe place, unless he had to, and no mere thumps on the ground could make him believe that. He could thump himself. He did. Those long hind-feet of his were just made for . When he hit the ground with them, he did it with a will, and the thumps he made sounded just as ugly and threatening as the other fellow’s, and he knew that the other fellow knew exactly what they meant—“I’ll[12] do as I please! Put me out if you can!”
 
It was very clear that this was just what the other proposed to do if his thumps meant anything at all. Presently Tommy saw a trim, neat-looking rabbit in a little open space, and it was something of a relief to find that he was about Tommy’s own size.
 
“If I can’t whip him, he certainly can’t whip me,” thought Tommy, and straightway , “I’m coming,” in reply to the stranger’s angry demand that he come out and fight.
 
Now the stranger was none other than Peter Rabbit, and he was very indignant. He considered that he owned the dear Old Briar-patch. He was perfectly willing that any other rabbit should find safety there in time of danger, but when[13] the danger was past, they must get out. Tommy hadn’t; therefore he must be driven out.
 
Now if Tommy had been himself, instead of a rabbit, never, never would he have dreamed of fighting as he was preparing to fight now—by biting and kicking, particularly kicking. But for a rabbit, kicking was quite the correct and proper thing. In fact, it was the only way to fight.
 
So instead of coming together head-on, Tommy and Peter approached each other in queer little half-sidewise rushes, each watching for a chance to use his stout hind-feet. Suddenly Peter rushed, jumped, and—well, when Tommy picked himself up, he felt very much as a boy feels when he has been tackled and thrown in a football game.[14] Certainly Peter’s hind-legs were in good working order.
 
Just a minute later Tommy’s chance came and Peter was sent . Like a flash, Tommy was after him, biting and pulling out little bunches of soft fur. So they fought until at last they were so out of wind and so tired that there was no fight left in either. Then they lay and panted for breath, and quite suddenly they forgot their quarrel. Each knew that he couldn’t whip the other; and, that being so, what was the use of fighting?
 
“I suppose this Old Briar-patch is big enough for both of us,” said Peter, after a little.
 
“I’ll live on one side, and you live on the other,” replied Tommy. And so it was agreed.
 
 
In three things Tommy found that, as a rabbit, he was not unlike Tommy the boy. These three were appetite, curiosity, and a decided preference for pleasure rather than work. Tommy felt as if he lived to eat instead of eating to live. He wanted to eat most of the time. It seemed as if he never could get his stomach really full.
 
There was one satisfaction, and that was that he never had to look very far for something to eat. There were clover and grass just outside the Briar-patch,—all he wanted for the taking. There were certain tender-leaved plants for a change, not to mention tender bark from young trees and bushes. With Peter he made occasional visits to a not too distant garden, where they fairly reveled in goodies.
 
These visits were in the nature of adventure. It seemed to Tommy that not even Danny Meadow-Mouse had so many enemies as he and Peter had. They used to talk it over sometimes.
 
“It isn’t fair,” said Peter in a grieved tone. “We don’t hurt anybody. We don’t do the least bit of harm to any one, and yet it isn’t safe for us to play two minutes outside the dear Old Briar-patch without keeping watch. No, sir, it isn’t fair! There’s Redtail the watching this very minute from way up there in the sky. He looks as if he were just sailing round and round for the fun of it; but he isn’t. He’s just watching for you or me to get one too many jumps away from these old briars. Then down he’ll come like a shot. Now what harm[17] have we ever done Redtail or any of his family? Tell me that.”
 
Of course Tommy couldn’t tell him that, and so Peter went on: “When I was a baby, I came very near to finding out just how far it is from Mr. Blacksnake’s mouth to his stomach by the inside passage, and all that saved me was the interference of a boy, who set me free. Now that I’m grown, I’m not afraid of Mr. Blacksnake,—though I keep out of his way,—but I have to keep on the watch all the time for that boy!”
 
“The same one?” asked Tommy.
 
“The very same!” replied Peter. “He’s forever setting his dog after me and trying to get a shot at me with his terrible gun. Yet I’ve never done him any harm,—nor the dog either.”
 
 
“It’s very curious,” said Tommy, not knowing what else to say.
 
“It seems to me there ought to be some time when it is reasonably safe for an honest rabbit to go abroad,” continued Peter, who, now that he was started, seemed bound to make the worst of his troubles. “At night, I cannot even dance in the moonlight without all the time looking one way for Reddy Fox and another for Hooty the .”
 
“It’s a good thing that the Briar-patch is always safe,” said Tommy, because he could think of nothing else to say.
 
“But it isn’t!” snapped Peter. “I wish to goodness it was! Now there’s—listen!” Peter sat very still with his ears forward. Something very like a look of fear grew and grew in his eyes. Tommy sat quite as still and listened[19] with all his might. Presently he heard a faint . It sounded as if it was in one of the little paths through the Briar-patch. Yes, it surely was! And it was drawing nearer! Tommy gathered himself together for instant flight, and a strange fear gripped his heart.
 
“It’s Billy !” Peter. “If he follows you, don’t run into a hole in the ground, or into a hollow log, whatever you do! Keep going! He’ll get tired after a while. There he is—run!”
 
Peter bounded off one way and Tommy another. After a few jumps, Tommy to make sure whether or not he was being followed. He saw a slim, dark form slipping through the brambles, and he knew that Billy Mink was following Peter. Tommy couldn’t help a tiny sigh of relief. He was sorry for Peter; but Peter knew every path and twist and turn, while he didn’t. It was a great deal better that Peter should be the one to try to fool Billy Mink.
 
So Tommy sat perfectly still and watched. He saw Peter twist and turn, run in a circle, criss-cross, run back on his own trail, and make a break by leaping far to one side. He saw Billy Mink follow every twist and turn, his nose in Peter’s tracks. When he reached the place where Peter had broken the trail, he ran in ever widening circles until he picked it up again, and once more Peter was on the run.
 
Tommy felt little cold shivers chase up and down his back as he watched how surely and Billy Mink followed. And then—he hardly knew how[21] it happened—Peter had jumped right over him, and there was Billy Mink coming! There was nothing to do but run, and Tommy ran. He doubled and twisted and played all the tricks he had seen Peter play, and then at last, when he was beginning to get quite tired, he played the same trick on Peter that had seemed so dreadful when Peter played it on him; he led Billy Mink straight to where Peter was sitting, and once more Peter was the hunted.
 
But Billy Mink was getting tired. After a little, he gave up and went in quest of something more easily caught.
 
Peter came back to where Tommy was sitting.
 
“Billy Mink’s a tough customer to get rid of alone, but, with some one to change off with, it is no trick at all!” said he. “It wouldn’t work so well with his cousin, Shadow the Weasel. He’s the one I am afraid of. I think we should be safer if we had some new paths; what do you think?”
 
Tommy confessed that he thought so too. It would have been very much easier to have dodged Billy Mink if there had been a few more cross paths.
 
“We better make them before we need them more than we did this time,” said Peter; and, as this was just plain, sound, rabbit common sense, Tommy was forced to agree.
 
And so it was that he learned that a rabbit must work if he would live long and be happy. He didn’t think of it in just this way as he patiently cut paths through the brambles and tangles of bush and vine. It was fear, just plain fear, that was driving him. And even this drove him to work only by spells. Between times, when he wasn’t eating, he sat under a bush just lazily dreaming, but always ready to run for his life.
 
In the moonlight he and Peter loved to and play in some open space where there was room to jump and dance; but, even in the midst of these times, they must need sit up every minute or so to stop, look, and listen for danger. It was at night, too, that they wandered farthest from the Old Briar-patch.
 
Once they met Bobby Coon, and Peter warned Tommy never to allow Bobby to get him cornered. And once they met Jimmy , who paid no attention to them at all, but went right on about his[24] business. It was hard to believe that he was another to be warned against; but so Peter said, and Peter ought to know if anybody did.
 
So Tommy learned to be ever on the watch. He learned to take note of his neighbors. He could tell by the sound of his voice when Sammy Jay was watching Reddy Fox, and when he saw a hunter. When Blacky the Crow was on guard, he knew that he was reasonably safe from surprise. At least once a day, but more often several times a day, he had a narrow escape. But he grew used to it, and, as soon as a fright was over, he forgot it. It was the only way to do.
 
As he learned more and more how to watch, and to care for himself, he grew bolder. Curiosity led him farther and farther from the Briar-patch. And then, one day he discovered that Reddy Fox was between him and it. There was nothing to do but to run and twist and double and . Every trick he had learned he tried in vain. He was in the open, and Reddy was too wise to be fooled.
 
He was right at Tommy’s heels now, and with every jump Tommy expected to feel those cruel white teeth. Just ahead was a great rock. If he could reach that, perhaps there might be a crack in it big enough for a frightened little rabbit to squeeze into, or a hole under it where he might find safety.
 
He was almost up to it. Would he be able to make it? One jump! He could hear Reddy panting. Two jumps! He could feel Reddy’s breath. Three jumps! He was on the rock! and—slowly Tommy rubbed his eyes. Reddy Fox was nowhere to be seen. Of course not! No fox would be foolish enough to come near a boy sitting in plain sight. Tommy looked over to the Old Briar-patch. That at least was real. Slowly he walked over to it. Peering under the bushes, he saw Peter Rabbit squatting perfectly still, yet ready to run.
 
“You don’t need to, Peter,” said he. “You don’t need to. You can cut one boy off that long list of enemies you are always watching for. You see, I know just how you feel, Peter!”
 
He walked around to the other side of the Briar-patch, and, stooping down, thumped the ground once with his hand. There was an answering thump from the spot where he had seen Peter Rabbit. Tommy smiled.
 
“We’re friends, Peter,” said he, “and it’s all on account of the wishing-stone. I’ll never hunt you again. My! I wouldn’t be a rabbit for anything in the world. Being a boy is good enough for me!”