ever.
"You learned that word of old Mr. Crow!" he grumbled. "It's his favorite
expression; and I can't endure it."
"You don't need to stay here and listen to it," Fatty Coon said. "If you
dared to you could run over to Johnnie Green's house (as you call it);
and if you found that you were right about it I promise you I'd never
say 'Nonsense' again."
If Grumpy Weasel hadn't been so angry perhaps he wouldn't have been so
eager to prove himself right. While Fatty watched him he bounded across
the farmyard and stopped at the doorway of the tiny house. And then he
bounded back again, a great deal faster, with old dog Spot yelping
behind him.
Fatty Coon did not wait for anything more. He made for the woods at top
speed, grinning as he went.
The next day he pretended to be surprised to meet Grumpy.
"You must have forgotten my advice," he said. "I promised you that there
would be a capture if you ran slowly. But it's plain that you ran too
fast, or you wouldn't be here."
"Nonsense!" Grumpy Weasel shouted, flying into a passion at once. And he
often wondered, afterward, what Fatty Coon found to laugh at.
XVIII
POP! GOES THE WEASEL
There were many things that did not please Grumpy Weasel--things that
almost any one else would have liked. For instance, there was music. The
Pleasant Valley Singing Society, to which most of the bird people
belonged, did not number Grumpy Weasel among its admirers. He never
cared to hear a bird sing--not even Jolly Robin's cousin the Hermit, who
was one of the most beautiful singers in the woods. And as for Buddy
Brown Thrasher, whom most people thought a brilliant performer, Grumpy
Weasel always groaned whenever he heard him singing in the topmost
branches of a tree.
A bird-song--according to Grumpy Weasel--was of use in only one way: it
told you where the bird was. And that was a help, of course, if you were
trying to catch him.
Nor did the musical Frog family's nightly concerts have much charm for
Grumpy, though he did admit that some of their songs were not so bad as
others.
"I can stand it now and then," he said, "to hear a good, glum croaking,
provided there are plenty of discords."
Naturally, knowing how he felt, Grumpy Weasel's neighbors never invited
him to listen to their concerts. On the contrary they usually asked him
please to go away, if he happened to come along. Certainly nobody could
sing his best, with such a listener.
As a rule Grumpy Weasel was glad to go on about his business, though to
be sure he hated to oblige anybody. But one day he stopped and scolded
at the top of his voice when he came upon the Woodchuck brothers
whistling in the pasture.
Their whistles quavered a bit when they noticed who was present. And
they moved a little nearer their front door, in order to dodge out of
sight if need be. Although Grumpy Weasel might follow them, there was a
back door they could rush out of. And since they knew their way about
their underground halls better than he did they did not worry greatly.
"We're sorry--" said the biggest brother, who was called Billy
Woodchuck--"we're sorry you don't like our music. And we'd like to know
what's the matter with it; for we always strive to please."
"It's not so much the way you whistle," Grumpy snarled, "though your
whistling is bad enough, it's so cheerful. What I find fault with
especially is the tune. It's insulting to me. And you can't deny it."
Well, the Woodchuck brothers looked at one another in a puzzled fashion.
"Never again let me hear you whistling, 'Pop! Goes the Weasel,'" Grumpy
warned them. That was the name of the Woodchuck brothers' favorite air,
and the one they could whistle best. And any one could see that they
were quite upset.
"Why don't you like that tune?" Billy Woodchuck asked Grumpy Weasel
politely.
"It's that word 'pop,'" Grumpy said. "It reminds me of a pop-gun. And a
pop-gun reminds me of a real gun. And that's something I don't want to
think about."
Well, the Woodchuck brothers looked at one another again. But this time
they smiled.
"You've misunderstood," Billy Woodchuck told Grumpy Weasel. "This is a
different kind of _pop_. It means that when you enter a hole you _pop_
into it in a jiffy, without taking all day to do it."
For a wonder Grumpy Weasel was almost pleased.
"That's true!" he cried. "I couldn't be slow if I wanted to be!" And he
actually asked the Woodchuck brothers to whistle "Pop! Goes the Weasel"
once more.
But Grumpy Weasel never thought of thanking them.
XIX
HIDING FROM HENRY HAWK
In the spring Grumpy Weasel was always glad to see the birds coming back
from the South. But it must not be supposed that it was because he liked
to hear them sing (for he didn't!).
Nor should any one make the mistake of thinking that Grumpy Weasel loved
the birds. The only reason why he welcomed them was because he liked to
hunt them, and rob their nests.
But there were two birds that Grumpy didn't care to have in Pleasant
Valley. He often wished that Solomon Owl and Henry Hawk would leave the
neighborhood and never return. That was because they liked to hunt him.
Especially did Grumpy Weasel dislike Henry Hawk, who had an unpleasant
habit of sitting motionless on a limb in the top of some great tree.
From that high perch he swept the whole valley with his keen, cruel
eyes, because (as he said) he "liked to see what was going on."
If Henry Hawk saw anything anywhere that interested him he lost no time
in reaching that place. It might be a bird, or a meadow mouse, or maybe
a plump chicken. And he was always hoping to catch a glimpse of Grumpy
Weasel.
One day early in the fall Mr. Hawk saw what he had been looking for so
long. Near the old cider mill, up the road from Farmer Green's house, he
spied a long, slender, brownish shape moving swiftly among a pile of
barrels outside the building. He knew at once that it was Grumpy
Weasel; and though he was a long way off Mr. Hawk could see that Grumpy
was very busy looking for something--so busy, Mr. Hawk hoped, that
Grumpy wouldn't notice anything else.
Henry Hawk had wonderful eyesight. As he came hurtling down out of the
sky he could see that Grumpy was playing hide-and-seek with a mouse.
"It's a shame to break up the game," Mr. Hawk chuckled to himself.
And just then something made Grumpy Weasel look up. It must have been
Henry Hawk's shadow flickering over a barrel. There was no other sign
that could have warned Grumpy.
He put the meadow mouse out of his mind without a bit of trouble and
made a sidewise spring for the first hole on which his eyes lighted.
Grumpy was through it in a twinkling. Henry Hawk made a frantic grab
with his talons at the black tip of Grumpy's tail, just as it whisked
out of sight. But he was too late.
It did not soothe Henry Hawk's feelings to find that the meadow mouse
had vanished at the same time. Henry would have liked to play
hide-and-seek with him himself.
Mr. Hawk knew well enough where Grumpy was hiding. That slim fellow had
sought safety in an empty jug, which was lying on its side near the pile
of barrels. It made a fine fort for Grumpy Weasel. The enemy couldn't
break through it. And there was only one loophole, which was far too
small to do Henry Hawk the least good.
Henry saw at once that he might as well go away. So he went off
grumbling.
"This," he said, "is what comes of disorderly habits. Farmer Green ought
not to have left that jug lying there. If he hadn't, I might have been
able to do him a good turn."
XX
A FREE RIDE
Inside the jug, where he had hidden to escape Henry Hawk, Grumpy Weasel
yawned widely and licked his chops. He was having a dull time, waiting
until he was sure that Henry Hawk had given up the chase and gone away.
In a little while Grumpy believed he could venture out in safety. But
suddenly, to his great disgust, a wagon came clattering in from the road
and pulled up right beside the pile of empty barrels near him.
It was Farmer Brown, driving his old horse Ebenezer. And of course
Grumpy Weasel didn't care to show himself just then, especially with
old dog Spot nosing around. He had already heard Spot give several sharp
yelps.
"That old dog knows I'm here somewhere but he can't tell exactly where,"
Grumpy said to himself. "He can yelp his head off, for all I care."
And then Spot began to whine, and run in and out among the barrels,
until he all but tripped Farmer Green, who was loading the barrels into
the wagon.
"Let him whine!" said Grumpy Weasel softly. "His yelping and whining
don't scare me. He can't get inside this jug of mine. And I certainly
shan't leave it so long as he stays here."
Meanwhile he could hear Farmer Green talking to old Spot, telling him
not to be silly.
"From the way you're acting anybody might think there was a bear around
here," he told Spot.
Old dog Spot explained to Farmer Green in no uncertain fashion that it
was no bear--but a weasel--that he was looking for. His nose told him
that. And there was no mistake about it. But somehow Farmer Green
couldn't understand a word he said. So after putting the last barrel on
the load Farmer Green climbed up himself and started to drive off.
But old dog Spot wouldn't budge an inch. He hovered about the jug where
Grumpy Weasel was hiding and made such a fuss that Farmer Green looked
back at him.
"Well! well!" he exclaimed. And he stopped the horse Ebenezer and jumped
down and walked back again.
"I declare I'd have forgotten to take this jug if you hadn't reminded me
of it," he told Spot. And thereupon he picked up the jug and set it in
the back of the wagon.
This time Spot followed. This time he was in the wagon before Farmer
Green was. And all the way down the road, until they reached the
farmyard, he acted (or so Farmer Green told him!) like a simpleton.
The whole affair made Grumpy Weasel terribly angry. He thought it was an
outrage for Farmer Green to kidnap him like that. And he was so enraged
that he would have taken a bite out of anything handy. But there wasn't
a thing in the jug except himself.
At last the strange party drew up in front of the barn and stopped.
Farmer Green led Ebenezer into his stall. And then he took the jug, with
Grumpy Weasel still inside in, and in spite of Spot's protests set it
high up on a shelf in the barn.
It was easy for Grumpy, after that, to crawl out of the jug. He scurried
along the shelf, climbed up the wall, and glided through a crack in the
ceiling, to hide himself in the haymow above.
"Old Spot didn't get me this time!" he said gleefully. "Not by a jugful,
he didn't!"
XXI
A NEW SUIT
Throughout Pleasant Valley the very name of Grumpy Weasel was a bugaboo.
Those of his size, and many a good deal bigger than he, learned early to
avoid him.
One of the first things Sandy Chipmunk's mother did was to teach him to
beware of Grumpy. And twice during his first summer Sandy caught a
glimpse of Grumpy as he flashed past like a brown streak, with a gleam
of white showing underneath.
It was lucky for Sandy that on both occasions Grumpy was intent on
chasing somebody or other. And each time that Sandy told his mother
what he had seen, Mrs. Chipmunk said that she hoped it would never
happen again.
"I'm glad that you know what he looks like, anyhow," she added.
"Oh, I'll know him if I see him!" Sandy cried.
"Don't stop for a second look!" his mother warned him.
"I won't!" he promised. "I won't even stop to say, 'How do you do!'"
"I should hope not!" Mrs. Chipmunk said severely.
So Sandy Chipmunk went through his first summer on the watch for a long,
slender, brownish shape. But he never saw Grumpy Weasel again. And
winter found the Chipmunk family all unharmed, and very comfortable in
their cozy house below frost line.
On mild days Sandy liked to visit the world above and find a rock bare
of snow, where he could enjoy the sunshine.
It was on one of those outings that he caught sight of a stranger headed
for the stone wall near-by. At first Sandy missed seeing him, against
the snow. But when he reached the wind-swept wall Sandy couldn't help
noticing him. He was a slim gentleman and--except for his black-tipped
tail--was dressed all in white.
After spending the winter underground Sandy Chipmunk was glad to talk
with the first person he saw. So he called to the stranger that it was a
fine day, wasn't it?
The other wheeled about so quickly that Sandy couldn't help laughing.
"Don't be nervous!" Sandy cried. "I won't hurt you!"
But the stranger didn't answer. Once he opened his mouth. And Sandy
Chipmunk had a queer feeling then that he had met the fellow before.
That mouth had plenty of white, needle-like teeth. It had a cruel look,
too.
Then the stranger jumped straight toward Sandy Chipmunk. And in that
instant Sandy knew who he was. No one could leap like that except Grumpy
Weasel!
Sandy turned and ran madly for shelter. Luckily he had the advantage of
Grumpy in one way. He had a bare ledge to run on, while Grumpy Weasel
had to flounder for some distance through a snow-choked hollow.
So Sandy escaped. And it was lucky that Grumpy didn't find the door to
the Chipmunk family's burrow. If he had he would have gone right in
himself.
Mrs. Chipmunk blamed herself for Sandy's adventure. She had never
remembered to tell her son that every fall Grumpy Weasel changed his
summer dress for the one in which Sandy had just seen him.
XXII
GRUMPY'S THREAT
Meeting Grumpy Weasel in the woods one day, Tommy Fox stopped to have a
chat with him. He always liked to chat with Grumpy, it was so easy to
get him angry, and such fun to see him fly into a passion.
"You're looking very elegant in your winter suit," Tommy Fox remarked.
"White is becoming to you--there's no doubt of that. And that black tip
on the end of your tail is just what's needed to complete your costume.
It matches your eyes nicely.... You must have a good tailor."
[Illustration: Sandy Chipmunk Runs From Grumpy Weasel. (_Page 96_)]
People were apt to be wary of Tommy Fox when fine words dripped from his
mouth like that. It usually meant that he was bent on some mischief. And
now Grumpy Weasel looked at him suspiciously.
"If you admire my clothes so much why don't you get some like them?" he
demanded.
Tommy Fox shook his head mournfully.
"I'd like to," he said, "but I'm too humble a person to dress like a
king, in ermine. My family have always worn red. The neighbors wouldn't
know me in anything else. Or if they did they'd say I was putting on
airs."
"If you want to know what I think, I'll tell you that red's entirely too
good for you," Grumpy Weasel sneered.
Tommy Fox smiled somewhat sourly. Grumpy Weasel's remark did not please
him. But he managed to say nothing disagreeable.
"I suppose," he went on, "you've met the newcomer in our valley who
dresses as you do, in white and black?"
"What's that you say?" Grumpy Weasel barked. "Who's gone and copied my
cold-weather clothes? If I meet him I'll make it hot for him."
"Perhaps I shouldn't have mentioned the matter," Tommy Fox said softly.
"I don't like to displease you. And I don't want to get a stranger into
trouble either, just as he has come to spend the winter amongst us.
"And besides," Tommy added, "it would be a shame for you to quarrel with
the stranger because he happens to choose your favorite colors. That
only goes to show that your tastes are alike."
"That's exactly what I object to!" Grumpy Weasel complained, getting
much excited. "If his tastes are the same as mine he'll want to come and
hunt along my stone wall. And there'll be trouble if he does that! The
fur will fly!"
Tommy Fox turned his head away, for he simply had to enjoy a grin and he
didn't want Grumpy Weasel to see it.
"I'm sorry I spoke about the stranger," he said glibly, as soon as he
could keep his face straight. "But I thought the news would please you."
"It would certainly please me to meet him," Grumpy Weasel declared
fiercely. "And it would please me much more than it would him, I can
tell you."
"It wouldn't be treating a newcomer well to let him wander through the
woods when you feel as you do about him. I ought to warn him to leave
Pleasant Valley before it's too late," Tommy said.
"It would be treating him better to give him a good lesson before he
goes," Grumpy Weasel said. "You needn't say a word to him about my
wanting to meet him. Let the fur fly first! And then he'll flee.
"That's my way of getting rid of strangers!"
XXIII
A BOLD STRANGER
Tommy Fox had carefully kept from Grumpy Weasel the name of the stranger
who was dressed like Grumpy, in white and black. It happened that he
wore feathers--this newcomer. And that was one reason why Tommy Fox had
had to grin when Grumpy threatened to "make the fur fly" when he met the
unknown.
Another reason why Tommy had laughed at Grumpy's blustering was that the
stranger was quite able to take care of himself in a fight. He belonged
to the Snowy Owl family, being bigger, even, than Solomon Owl. And what
with his hooked beak and his strong talons he was a dangerous fellow to
meet. Although Grumpy Weasel could easily handle a rabbit or a wild duck
a dozen times his own size, because they were unarmed, he would have had
no chance at all with Mr. Snowy Owl.
All this made Tommy Fox chuckle and grin, as he left Grumpy and loped
off towards Cedar Swamp, where Mr. Snowy Owl was spending the winter.
Unlike Solomon Owl, and his cousin Simon Screecher, Mr. Snowy Owl did
not turn night into day. So Tommy Fox found him wide awake and ready for
a fight or a frolic, whichever might come his way.
He was a handsome bird--this newcomer--in his showy white suit, spotted
with black. And he gave Tommy Fox a bold, hard look, acting for all the
world as if he had spent his whole life in Pleasant Valley, instead of
merely two short weeks.
Now, Mr. Snowy Owl knew a good deal about such rascals as Tommy Fox. So
he said at once, "What's on your mind, young man? You've come here on
mischief and you needn't deny it."
Well, Tommy Fox saw that he couldn't deceive Mr. Owl very much. So he
grinned at him and told him about the talk he had just had with Grumpy
Weasel.
"He's so eager to meet you it would be too bad to disappoint him," Tommy
observed. "He wants the fur to fly, you know."
Although he had no ears (at least, so far as could be seen) Mr. Snowy
Owl had listened closely to Tommy Fox's story. And he must have heard
plainly enough, for he said quickly that he would call on Grumpy Weasel
that very day. "I'll start right now," he said, "and I'll reach Grumpy
Weasel's hunting ground before you're out of the swamp."
"I wish you'd wait a bit, till I can get there myself," Tommy Fox told
him.
Mr. Snowy Owl agreed to that. And after lingering until he thought Tommy
must have had time to run and find Grumpy Weasel he rose above the tops
of the cedars and sailed off to join them himself.
"I'm glad I came here to spend the winter," he muttered. "Everybody's
been very pleasant so far. And after people hear how I've settled with
this Weasel person the folks in Pleasant Valley will be pretty polite to
me, or I'll know the reason why."
XXIV
FUR AND FEATHERS
To find Grumpy Weasel, Tommy Fox went straight back to the place where
he had left him. It was easy, then, to follow his queer tracks. Grumpy's
legs were so short that they did not lift his lean body clear of the
deep snow, except when he jumped very high; so his trail looked somewhat
like that of a snake with legs.
As soon as Tommy overtook him he asked Grumpy if he had seen the
stranger yet, who was dressed all in white and black, like him.
"No, I haven't. But I'm on the lookout for him all the time," said
Grumpy.
"Where are you looking?" Tommy inquired.
"Oh! Everywhere!" Grumpy replied. "Behind the trees and in the bushes
and back of the stone wall!"
"Have you seen any new tracks?" Tommy persisted.
"Not one!" Grumpy admitted. And then he thought he caught the flicker of
a smile on Tommy Fox's narrow face. "If there is no such person--if
you've been deceiving me----" he began angrily.
"I promise you that there _is_ such a stranger in the neighborhood!"
Tommy cried. "And if you don't meet him to-day I'll be as disappointed
as you."
"It seems to me," Grumpy Weasel snapped, "you're altogether too anxious
over this business. Everybody knows you're tricky. And I begin to think
you're trying to get me into trouble."
It was wonderful, the way Tommy Fox could keep his temper. No matter
what people said to him he could still smile if it would help him to
have his way. And now he kept up a never-ending chatter, without saying
anything in particular.
The snow was deep enough to have covered such hiding places as Grumpy
Weasel liked. The stone wall, indeed, offered about the only crannies;
and that was some distance away. Tommy Fox had noticed that. And that
was why he was trying to keep Grumpy Weasel where he was. For Tommy
expected Mr. Snowy Owl at any moment.
"You are talking foolishness," Grumpy told Tommy Fox at last. "I don't
care to waste my time listening to you." And he turned away.
"One moment, please!" Tommy begged, for the sly rascal had just caught
a glimpse of Mr. Snowy Owl hovering above the trees.
"What do you want now?" Grumpy Weasel scolded, as he paused close by the
old hemlock where Solomon Owl sometimes sat and abused him.
"I want to see the fur fly," Tommy Fox answered wickedly.
For a moment Grumpy Weasel couldn't think what he meant. But suddenly he
saw a large whitish shape dropping upon him out of the sky. He knew
then, in a flash, that Tommy Fox had deceived him.
A moment more and it was all over. At least, it seemed so to Tommy Fox.
Whatever had happened had taken place so quickly that he couldn't see it
clearly. But there was Mr. Snowy Owl, sitting on a limb of the hemlock,
where he had perched after staying half a second's time on the ground.
And Grumpy Weasel was no longer to be seen, anywhere.
"Did--did you swallow him?" Tommy Fox stammered.
Mr. Snowy Owl looked puzzled.
"I don't know," he replied. "Perhaps I did! If I didn't I don't know
where he is."
Tommy Fox couldn't help looking disappointed. "I'm sorry about one
thing," he said. "It was all done so quickly I didn't see the fur fly!"
Then there was a faint sound above them. And looking up, Tommy and Mr.
Owl saw Grumpy Weasel's head sticking out of a small hole high up in the
tree-trunk.
As they watched him Grumpy Weasel seemed to be saying something to them.
They couldn't hear what it was. But no doubt it was nothing pleasant.
XXV
PETER MINK'S PROMISE
It happened, on a bleak winter's day, that Grumpy Weasel was strolling
along the bank of Broad Brook when all at once he heard a squall.
Instantly he whirled around. There was something about the cry that
sounded familiar. And while he searched the stream up and down with his
sharp eyes he grew angrier every moment.
"Unless I'm mistaken that's my good-for-nothing cousin, Peter Mink,"
Grumpy muttered. "I'll teach him not to squall at me--the rascal!"
He did not have to look long before he caught sight of his cousin.
Peter Mink was crouched under the overhanging bank, not far from the
edge of the frozen surface of the brook. And he squalled again when he
saw that Grumpy had discovered him.
"Stop that!" Grumpy Weasel bellowed. He was not greatly afraid of Peter
Mink, though his cousin was much bigger than he. "I'll have you know
that I don't allow people to bawl at me, even if we are distantly
related."
"I wasn't bawling at you," Peter Mink answered. And he was strangely
polite, for him. "I was calling for help. Can't you see that my foot is
caught in a trap?"
At that Grumpy jumped down upon the ice and took a good look at Peter
Mink. He saw, then, that Peter spoke the truth. "This trap hurts my
foot, I can tell you," Peter Mink whined.
"Maybe it will teach you not to screech at people," Grumpy told him.
"You're going to help me, aren't you?" Peter Mink asked his cousin
anxiously.
"That trap belongs to Farmer Green's hired man," Grumpy informed Peter
Mink. "I saw him when he set it there. Perhaps you would like to have me
send word to him that you're using it."
"Oh! Don't do that!" Peter begged piteously.
"Well, then--suppose I get old dog Spot to come and see what he can do!
He'd have you out of that trap in no time!"
But that suggestion didn't suit Peter Mink any better.
"For goodness' sake, can't you think of something else?" he wailed.
His voice rose higher and higher as he spoke. And Grumpy Weasel showed
his sharp teeth as he warned Peter Mink again not to squall at him, for
he wouldn't stand it.