NIBBLE TELLS ONE SECRET AND HEARS ANOTHER
Now when Tommy Peele followed Watch back to the woods it was because he
thought the old dog was chasing Nibble Rabbit. Then he made up his mind
Nibble had warned Watch about that bad Louie Thomson. He never dreamed
Nibble had whispered a secret that belonged to the Red Cow. So as soon
as he’d made Louie promise to behave, he whistled to Watch and began to
lead the Red Cow away so Louie could climb down.
Well, right then the Red Cow remembered that secret she had to show him.
So she insisted on leading him.
She fairly galloped around the end of the thicket, with Tommy running
after her in his tall rubber boots and Watch bounding after him. But
Nibble took a short cut through his tunnel. And he met Doctor Muskrat
coming to meet him.
“Climp, clump, climp, clump!” went a sound outside.
“What’s that?” asked Doctor Muskrat.
Nibble peered along the ground. And he could see Louie Thomson’s boots
moving very fast. “It’s that Man,” he exclaimed. “He’s running like
Silvertip the Fox did when the Red Cow took after him.”
“Fine!” chuckled Doctor Muskrat. “He’ll never bring his wicked jaws back
here again. And we can thank Tommy Peele for that.”
Then there was another sound. “What’s that?” asked Nibble. And Doctor
Muskrat laughed. For it was Tommy Peele squealing with surprise because
he’d found the secret that belonged to the Red Cow. “A calf! Oh, the
cute little thing!”
[Illustration: The Red Cow walked around and around the trunk of that
big tree roaring at him.]
So Nibble and Doctor Muskrat both crept back down the tunnel to watch
what was going on. The calf raised his head and looked at Tommy; then he
got up on his shaky legs and sniffed at him. Because Tommy was a strange
Beast with a strange smell and even a baby knows enough to be careful
about strange things. But when he touched his little turned-up nose to
the hand Tommy held out to him he smelled his mother. You know Tommy had
been stroking her. So the foolish little rascal put out his little pink
tongue, trying to lick Tommy’s fingers. And wasn’t his mother pleased
because they were friends the very first thing!
Watch led the way, and Tommy walked beside the Red Cow and helped to
steer her wobbly-legged calf all the way up to the barn. And the baby
kept trying to kick up his silly little heels the way Nibble used to
when he felt playful. And he just would run splash into all the puddles,
and bunt and wriggle when they caught him. The Red Cow kept getting
prouder and prouder every step, but even she was glad when they got
safely home with him.
Nibble went with them as far as the Pasture. Doctor Muskrat was enjoying
a nice sweet flag-root (the first one he’d dug that spring) when Nibble
came loping back again. And he was the messiest rabbit you ever heard
of. And so cross and disgusted!
“That bad baby!” he complained, beginning to clean the mud spots off his
white shirt front. “He wouldn’t do anything I told him to. And then, the
very first time I wasn’t looking, he danced in a puddle and splashed it
all over me. From whiskers to—” he craned his neck about to look—“to
tail! He all but drowned me!”
“You don’t have to tell me that,” said Doctor Muskrat, and his fat sides
were shaking with laughter. “I’ve eyes to see with. You’re as wet as
ever you were when I fished you out of that pond there.” For you
remember how Nibble tumbled right into the water he was so frightened
the first time he ever saw the kind old muskrat.
“And then,” Nibble went on indignantly, “the impudent little scamp
sniffed his little turned-up nose at me because I was spluttering.”
“You can’t expect a calf to be born with manners, can you?” soothed
Doctor Muskrat, “’specially if it belongs to the Red Cow. But, as I told
her, that’s the most remarkable youngst——” He flattened his ears, ready
to dive, for a shadow came swooping down and he was expecting the Marsh
Hawk back any day.
But it was only Chaik the Jay. “Hello,” he piped. “Who was she and what
did you tell her?” And he pounced on an acorn that was half-buried in
the ground.
“The Red Cow,” answered Doctor Muskrat, “has a little new calf who’s the
most remarkable youngster I’ve ever seen.” And he was going to tell
Chaik all about it, only——
Didn’t Nibble Rabbit just interrupt and tell it all himself? Just didn’t
he? He was that puffed up because he was the first one to see it that he
couldn’t wait. He described, how bright its little eyes were, and how it
wriggled its tail like Chatter Squirrel does when he’s in a temper,
and—everything there was to tell about that Red Cow’s red baby with the
white star in his forehead and the turned-up nose.
And all the time Nibble was forgetting to clean his fur. And the mud
spots showed worse than ever as the wind dried them. But Nibble was too
busy talking about that very same bad little Beast who had splashed them
on him.
Chaik was preening and tucking in his feathers every once in a while. He
didn’t have his new spring coat yet, so he was very particular over his
old one. Presently he noticed Nibble. “By the Worm in the Acorn, Rabbit,
what’s happened to you?” he wanted to know.
Do you think Nibble would tell on that Red Cow’s bad baby? Not at all.
He just said, “Oh, I wasn’t looking—you don’t know what the walking is
this spring.” Then he got very busy with his mud spots and Chaik flew
away.
“Hm,” giggled the doctor. “What do you really think of the Red Cow’s
calf, what you told me about it or what you told Chaik?”
“I mean,” said Nibble shamefacedly, “that I’m going up to see it
to-morrow morning.” And off he hopped to his bed.
He woke up early, early, before the darkest night had begun to melt into
the gray of dawn. He yawned sleepily and rolled over. My, but that hole
of his was warm and comfortable! Suddenly he jumped up and began to
scrub his face with his paws.
In about three minutes he was down by the pond, thumping for Doctor
Muskrat. And weren’t the doctor’s eyes all sleepy when he poked his head
out of the water? “Ouf,” he shivered, “what do you want at this hour of
the night? Spear me with an icicle, but this pond is cold!” (If one of
the Woodsfolk is found frozen to death the saying is that he’s been
speared by an icicle.)
“Come along,” said Nibble. “I’m going up to the barn to see the Red Cow
and her bad baby.”
“What do you take me for?” snorted the old doctor. “Don’t you forget
that Silvertip the Fox is living there! Gimlet the Woodpecker said so. I
can’t run like you can and there isn’t any water for me to dive into.”
“I forgot,” apologized Nibble.
“Well, you just be careful,” warned the wise old beast, “and you come
straight back and tell me about him.”
So off went Nibble, creeping about among the puddles. He dove into the
Brushpile for a minute because he heard two birds talking. But they were
only little downy Mr. and Mrs. Screech Owl, smaller than Bobby Robin. “I
tell you it’s too early for nesting,” one was saying.
“Not if Silvertip keeps on leaving all that nice food for us in the
fence corner,” insisted the other. “He scarcely eats half of what he
catches, and chickens are the best eating in the world for our owlets.
We wouldn’t have to do any hunting.”
“So,” said Nibble to himself, “Gimlet was right. Silvertip’s catching
Tommy Peele’s chickens.”
He sniffed carefully about the haystack and, sure enough, there was a
nice nest that smelled of Silvertip—it’s almost the same smell as the
seeds of the “cranes-bill,” as the Woodsfolk call wild geranium. It was
empty, so Nibble cocked an ear at the chicken coop. Sure enough, there
was a tiny rustling in the straw. As he sat there listening he heard the
scared shout of a pullet, “Squa-awk! Squa-a—” and that was all.
Silvertip had throttled her. Bounce! Down he came from the perch and
slam! Out he slipped through the little back door his snoopy nose had
learned how to open. But Nibble didn’t dare call Watch for fear
Silvertip would hear him.
[Illustration: Silvertip trotted past with the poor chicken hanging from
his jaws.]