The badger, never doubting but that the rabbit was his friend,
willingly consented to go out with him, only too glad to get away
from the neighborhood of the farmer and the fear of meeting him. The
rabbit led the way miles away from their homes, out on the hills
where the grass grew tall and thick and sweet. They both set to work
to cut down as much as they could carry home, to store it up for
their winter's food. When they had each cut down all they wanted
they tied it in bundles and then started homewards, each carrying
his bundle of grass on his back. This time the rabbit made the
badger go first.

When they had gone a little way the rabbit took out a flint and
steel, and, striking it over the badger's back as he stepped along
in front, set his bundle of grass on fire. The badger heard the
flint striking, and asked:

"What is that noise. 'Crack, crack'?"

"Oh, that is nothing." replied the rabbit; "I only said 'Crack,
crack' because this mountain is called Crackling Mountain."

The fire soon spread in the bundle of dry grass on the badger's
back. The badger, hearing the crackle of the burning grass, asked,
"What is that?"

"Now we have come to the 'Burning Mountain,'" answered the rabbit.

By this time the bundle was nearly burned out and all the hair had
been burned off the badger's back. He now knew what had happened by