WAR TO THE TOOTH
My, but the fieldmice were hopping mad—I mean it truthfully. They hopped
up and down on Doctor Muskrat’s flat stone and lashed their tails and
chattered. “That vote doesn’t mean anything,” shouted Great-Grandfather
Fieldmouse. “We’ve all voted against him and there are more fieldmice
here than all of you put together.”
“That isn’t the way we usually vote in the Woods and Fields,” said
Doctor Muskrat. “We vote by families. Here are the night birds and the
day birds (you know some of the birds can fly by moonlight and they
liked Stripes well enough to come) and Nibble Rabbit and Watch the Dog
who votes for Tommy Peele. If you want to vote by tails we’ll call a day
meeting so all the birds can come.”
Well Great-Grandfather Fieldmouse knew that wouldn’t be any use. There
are too many birds. So he said: “This is a fur vote. The birds haven’t
anything to say.”
“Very well, then, shall I call a fur vote, at noon, a week from to-day?”
asked Doctor Muskrat.
But Great-Grandfather Fieldmouse was afraid that all Stripes Skunk’s
friends would use that chance to eat all the mice they could hold and
reduce the vote. He turned to Watch. “This matter really only concerns
Tommy Peele,” said he. “Can he afford to fight the fieldmice?”
“He can afford to stand by his friends,” Watch answered.
Then Great-Grandfather Fieldmouse spoke to Stripes himself. “Will you
force us to fight?” he asked, “or will you go? Remember, Tad Coon has
already vanished. Will you risk the same fate from the fieldmice? I warn
you!”
“I will stay,” Stripes answered firmly.
“Then it is war! War to the tooth!” announced Great-Grandfather
Fieldmouse. And off he humped, followed by all his family.
“Now what do you suppose those mice did to Tad Coon?” mused Doctor
Muskrat.
[Illustration: Nibble takes the lady mouse to Doctor Muskrat]