world," he began. "The great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather of
Limberheels, the first one, you know, was quite an ordinary Mouse when
Old Mother Nature made him and started him out to make his way in the
Great World. He was little, one of the smallest of the family, and his
tail was short, no longer than mine. His hind legs were like those of
all his relatives. He ran about just as his relatives did. He was so
small and kept out of sight so much that he didn't even have a name.
There was nothing about him to suggest a name.

"For a long time he was contented and happy. Then one day he happened to
see Mr. Hare jump. It seemed to him the most wonderful thing in the
world that any one should be able to jump like that. So he began to
spend most of his spare time where he could watch Mr. Hare. One day Old
Mother Nature happened along unseen by him, as he was watching Mr. Hare
jump, and she overheard him say very, very wistfully, 'How I wish I
could jump like that! I wish I had long hind legs like Mr. Hare.'

"Old Mother Nature's kindly eyes twinkled. 'That's easily arranged,'
said she. 'If you think long hind legs will be of more use to you than
the ones you have, you shall have them.'

"The next morning when little Mr. Mouse awoke, he discovered that in the
night something had happened to his hind legs. They were very long and
strong, regular jumping legs like those of Mr. Hare. Of course he was in
such a great hurry to try them that he couldn't wait for his breakfast.
He began by making little short hops, and in no time at all he was
getting about splendidly. At last he got up his courage to try a long
jump. Up in the air he shot, and then something happened. Yes, Sir,
something happened. He couldn't kept his balance. He turned two or
three somersaults and landed on his back.