So Uncle Wiggily ate his supper, which the kind farmer lady had put up for
him, and then he sat and waited for the moon to rise, and pretty soon he
heard a funny noise, calling like this:

"Who? Who? Who-tu-tu-tu."

"Oh, you know who I am all right, Mr. Owl," said the rabbit. "You can see
very well at night. You can see me."

"My goodness, if it isn't Uncle Wiggily!" cried the owl in surprise. "What
are you doing out so late, I'd like to know?"

"Waiting for a moon-beam, so I can see if there is any gold for my fortune
at the end of it," was the answer. "Is the moon coming up over the trees,
Mr. Owl?"

"Yes, here it comes," said the owl, "and now I must fly off to the dark
woods, for I don't like the light," and he fluttered away.

Then the moon came up, all silver and glorious; shining over the tree tops
like a shimmering ball, and soon the moon-beams fell to the ground in
slanting rays, but they fell so softly, like feathers, that they did not
get hurt at all.

"Well, I guess I'll follow that big one," said the old gentleman rabbit,
as he picked out a nice, broad, large, shiny moon-beam. "That must have
gold at the end, and, if I find it, my fortune is made." So off he started
to follow the moon-beam to where it came to an end.