giving him a little swelled head. He began to feel that he could get out
of any danger by using his wits.

"It takes a city rabbit to find a way out of difficulty," he reflected, as
he lay snugly in the hollow trunk of the tree. "These country animals are
dull-witted. I do hope my cousins of the woods are not so stupid. Perhaps
they are, and that's why people say rabbits are cunning but very stupid."

This sort of reasoning was the very thing that got him in trouble, and
nearly caused his death. He was so sure that he had outwitted Mr. Fox, he
decided after a while to leave the hollow trunk, and eat some of the green
leaves and branches growing around outside.

But he knew less about the cunning and patience of the fox than he
thought. Instead of trotting off in the woods, chagrined and disgusted by
his defeat, the fox was lying low ready to pounce on the white rabbit the
moment he showed himself. He was so still that Bumper couldn't hear the
rustle of a leaf or the snap of a twig.

"I think I'll go out now," Bumper said finally. "I'm dreadfully hungry."

Instead of poking his head out cautiously to investigate, he walked
straight from the hollow trunk into the very jaws of the fox. There was a
sharp click of teeth, and Bumper felt a terrible pain in one of his long
ears. He must have leaped five feet in the air, and another five feet
sideways. The fox had missed his neck by an inch, but to make up for this
mistake, he now pursued the rabbit, leaping nearly as high in the air to
catch him as Bumper.

Terrified by the attack, and not knowing what to do, the white rabbit