ommy Fox. And
there he might have been seen talking to Mr. Turtle. He talked with him
for a long time. And when at last he went away Tommy's face wore a very
different look. He was actually smiling.

The very next day Jimmy Rabbit met Tommy Fox in the woods.

"You'd better go home!" Tommy told him. "You have a caller waiting to
see you. I just happened to pass your house, and the caller asked me if
I had seen you."

"Who is it?" Jimmy asked him.

But Tommy Fox would not tell him.

"It's really none of my business," he said.

Jimmy Rabbit hurried off. He wondered who wanted to see him, and why.

He was surprised--and disappointed, too--to find that it was nobody but
Mr. Turtle. And he was still more surprised when he learned his errand.

"I have come to challenge you to a race," Mr. Turtle told him.

Jimmy Rabbit laughed right in his face.

"A race!" he exclaimed. "Why--you can't run. I guess you've come to the
wrong house. I guess you've made a mistake."

But Mr. Turtle said that he knew what he was about.

"I want to race you all the way from the creek to Broad Brook, where it
runs into Swift River," he said.

Jimmy Rabbit had hard work to keep a straight face.

"My dear sir!" he said. "I could run that distance a hundred times
while you were waddling it once. I don't care to race with you. It would
be no fun at all for me."

When Mr. Turtle heard that, his beady little eyes snapped.

"Don't be so sure!" he said. "I believe I can beat you. And I will bet
you----"

Jimmy Rabbit did not wait for him to finish.

"Bet!" he cried. "I never bet! I'm not allowed to. My mother doesn't
approve of betting. And if she heard you mention such a thing to me she
would be very angry."

"I didn't mean to say that," Mr. Turtle told him hastily. "It was just a
slip of the tongue. What I meant to say was this: If you win the race,
I'll _give_ you a fine new sled; and if I win, you can _give_ me your
wheelbarrow."

Jimmy Rabbit began to be interested. He had always wanted a sled. And by
another month or two there ought to be good coasting. It certainly
wasn't _betting_, he thought. And as for losing the race--and his
wheelbarrow--he knew that such a thing could never happen.

"I'll race you!" he cried. "When shall it be?"

"How would to-morrow do?" said Mr. Turtle. "It's a long way from the
creek to Broad Brook--a good day's journey, I call it. It's too late to
start to-day."

Jimmy Rabbit grinned. He knew tha