along across the Green Meadows with nothing much on his mind when from
right under his wobbly nose something shot into the air over the tops of
the grasses for eight or ten feet and then down and out of sight. Peter
rubbed his eyes.

"Did I see it, or didn't I? And if I did, what was it?" gasped Peter.

A squeaky little laugh answered him. "You saw it all right, Peter, but
it isn't polite to call any one it. He would be quite provoked if he had
heard you. That was my cousin, Limberheels," replied a voice quite as
squeaky as the laugh had been.

Peter turned to see the bright eyes of Danny Meadow Mouse twinkling at
him from the entrance to a tiny little path that joined the bigger path
in which Peter was sitting.

"Hello, Danny!" he exclaimed. "Do you mean to tell me that was a
relative of yours? Since when have any of your relatives taken to
flying?"

Danny chuckled. "He wasn't flying," he retorted. "He just jumped, that
was all." Danny chuckled again, for he knows that Peter considers
himself quite a jumper and is inclined to be a bit jealous of any one
else who pretends to jump save his cousin, Jumper the Hare.

"Jumped!" snorted Peter. "Jumped! Do you expect me to believe that any
Mouse can jump like that? I didn't get a good look at that fellow, but
whoever he is I tell you he flew. Nobody can jump like that."

Danny chuckled again. "Wait a minute, Peter," said he. He disappeared,