"No, no, Toby, don't touch him. Wait! I'll show him to you!"

But Toby was much too spry for Mary or Aunt Helen. He darted around back
of them, and caught Bumper by the tail--and you know a rabbit's tail is
the smallest part of him--and began pulling it. Bumper let out a squeal,
and pulled the other way with all his might.

"I got him!" shrieked Toby gleefully. "I got him by the tail."

"Toby! Toby!" cried Mary, catching his hand. "Let go of him this instant."

"I won't! I won't! He's mine!"

Between Toby pulling at one end, and Mary holding the other, Bumper felt
as if he would part somewhere in the middle. He kicked with his hind legs,
and scratched Toby's hands, but the boy would not release his hold. He
gave a sharp jerk, and Bumper let out a squeal.

"You cruel, wicked boy!" exclaimed Mary, as Toby pulled the rabbit from
her arms, and swung him around by his hind legs. "Let me have him this
minute. You'll kill him!"

"No, I won't! He's mine! Isn't he, Aunt Helen? You brought him to me,
didn't you? There now, Mary, she nodded her head! I'm going to keep him."

"But, dear, you must be very gentle with him," said Aunt Helen. "You'll
hurt him carrying him that way."

"That's the way to carry rabbits, by their hind legs," replied Toby. "I