warrant he has some fine gift from her in
that little red box I see sticking out from his pocket. I must try to
steal that box and see what is in it!"

Then, while the youth slumbered, unconscious of danger, the Sly Fox
carefully drew the little red box from his pocket, and, taking it in
his mouth, ran off into the woods with it.

Soon after this the rabbit came back, and when it saw Timtom lying
asleep it awakened him and asked:

"Where is my new tail?"

"Oh, I have brought you a fine one," replied Timtom, with a smile. "It
is in this little red box." But when he searched for the box he
discovered it had been stolen.

So great was his distress at the loss that the gray rabbit was sorry
for him.

"I shall never be able to get home again," he moaned, weeping tears of
despair, "for all the gifts Maetta gave me are now lost forever!"

"Never mind," said the rabbit, "I shall allow you to go under the wall
without giving me the tail, for I know you tried to keep your promise.
I suppose I can make this stubby tail do a while longer, since it is
the only one I ever possessed. But beware when you come to the bird and
the spider, for they will not be so kind to you as I am. The bird has
no heart at all, and the spider's heart is hard as a stone. Still I
advise you to keep up your courage, for if you are brave and fearless
you may succeed in getting home, after all. If you can not cross the
gulf and the River of Needles, you are welcome to come back and live
with me."

Hearing this, Timtom dried his eyes and thanked the kind rabbit, after
which he crawled under the wall and resumed his journey. He became more
cheerful as he trudged along, for the golden pill was still safe in the
corner of his handkerchief.

When he came to the white bird and began to explain how it was he had
lost the song and could not keep his promise, the bird became very
angry and refused to listen to his excuses. Nor could he induce it to
carry him again across the gulf.

"I shall keep my word," declared the bird, stiffly; "for I warned you
that if you returned without the song I should refuse to assist you
further."

Poor Timtom was at his wits' end to know what to do; so he sat down
near the brink of the gulf and twirled his thumbs and tried to keep up
his courage and think of some plan, while the white bird strutted
around in a cold and stately manner.

Now it seems that just about this time the Sly Fox reached his den and
opened the li