A GAME OF TAG IN TOMMY’S BARN
You know about Nibble Rabbit. First he’s scared and then he’s curious.
He was scared when he heard Silvertip catch the pullet. And he was still
more scared when Silvertip trotted past in the mist, splashing softly in
the puddles, with the poor chicken hanging from his jaws. But when
Silvertip suddenly stopped and sniffed Nibble’s own footprints by the
haystack, he was the scaredest little rabbit in all the fields and woods
and the barnyard, too.
Just the same he could see Silvertip say to himself, “It’s too wet to
follow that trail. I’ll keep an eye out for bunnies around here as well
as birds.”
And Nibble said to his own self, “Bunny, that fox will have to do some
looking.” Then Silvertip picked up the chicken and trotted on.
Of course Nibble took a long breath when he had gone. That gave him time
to grow curious. “I wonder which fence-corner those greedy little
Screech Owls said he hid his food in?” he thought. “Watch would like to
know.” So he peeked around the end of the stack and listened. Silvertip
was away out of sight in the mist, but his feet went splashing off to
the very corner of the Broad Field, where he used to sleep under some
elderberry bushes. Yes, and sometimes he’d catch the birds who came
there for berries. Oh, that Silvertip was certainly clever.
“Now,” Nibble thought, “it’s safe for me to hunt for the Red Cow.” She
wasn’t in the milking barn, but he could hear her baby, not very far
away, calling his mother to get up and give him his breakfast. And the
more he listened to that naughty little calf the more he wanted to see
it again. So he crept down the line of scary, switchy tails, past the
very last one. Then he came to a narrow lane, all sprinkled with dried
clover-leaves. Pretty soon he had to squeeze under a door into another
part of the barn. It was much brighter than the milking barn, because
there was a hole in the wall at the far end. There were three box
stalls, and he could hear the little calf in the last one.
He hopped up on a bale of straw and ran along the top of the partition
until he could look in and see him. There that naughty little beast had
got tired of calling his mother and bunting her, so now he was trying to
kick her. And Nibble thought he was cunninger than ever.
Of course the Red Cow was pleased to see him, and full of talk. But
Nibble was getting curious again. After a while he said, “Red Cow, I can
see the trees moving outside, but there isn’t any wind in here. Why is
that?”
“Why, I never thought about it,” said the Red Cow. You remember she was
always a little bit stupid.
“I’m going to find out,” said Nibble. He hopped carefully along the
partition to the window. And if ever a rabbit looked foolish, it was
Nibble when he snubbed his twitchy nose against it. He was puzzled. None
of the Woodsfolk could imagine such a thing as window glass.
“What is it?” asked the Red Cow, wagging her big ears.
“Ice,” guessed Nibble. “No, it’s not, either.” He was trying to taste it
with his licky little tongue that he uses to wash his shirt front. “It
doesn’t taste like the drops that freeze into my fur and it isn’t wet.
But it’s cold——”
And right then he learned some more about it. For you know Silvertip had
seen the bunny’s footprints. “Chickens are all right,” thought the bad
fox to himself as he trotted along, “but I’d a great deal rather have a
nice tasty mouthful of rabbit.” So he hid the pullet and came galloping
back to find Nibble.
It wasn’t long before he saw the bunny’s trail going into the door of
the milking barn, and he could smell plainly on the dry wood floor
exactly where Nibble had gone. So Silvertip went sniffing quietly down
the long aisle behind the row of cows. But they smelled him. “Help!
Watch! Wolves! Wolves! Help!” they bawled. And they all tried to kick
him.
Now Silvertip was afraid to run out past their heels, so he had to
follow Nibble’s trail under the door into the barn, where the box stalls
were. And there he saw Nibble, perched on top of the partition, sniffing
at the window with his back turned.
Up jumped Silvertip on to the straw bale. Down jumped Nibble into the
stall beside the Red Cow. “Arh,” whimpered Silvertip excitedly, and
jumped after him.
You never heard such a commotion. For the Red Cow began to roar and aim
her horns at the fox. And Silvertip had to do some lively dodging. He’d
just managed to scramble back on the partition when Watch came squeezing
under the door. There wasn’t another place for the fox to turn so he ran
straight for the window.
“Wouw!” he whimpered as he hit it. But it was too late to stop. “Crash!”
he went right through it and landed plump on the floor of a wagon that
stood beneath it. Then he went galloping off to the woods as fast as he
could go, holding up first one foot and then the other, for he couldn’t
make up his mind where he was hurt the most. And his nose felt as if a
bee had lit on it, and his eyes were so bunged up he could hardly see
where he was going, and he had a new slit in the ear Mrs. Hooter had
nipped—he was pretty badly damaged. And he was grinding his teeth and
blaming poor Nibble Rabbit for every bit of it. For no one who thinks
himself as clever as Silvertip can get into trouble without finding some
way to think somebody else made him do it.
“Aourgh!” barked Watch excitedly. And then of course Nibble knew he was
perfectly safe, and he wanted to come out from under the Red Cow’s
manger, where he had hidden, to see what was happening. But the naughty
little calf was so excited he was dancing around and bunting at
everything in sight. His mother had to give him some more breakfast
before he’d stand still a single minute.
[Illustration: There was Nibble, perched on top of the partition.]
By that time Silvertip was away off down the Pasture and Watch had
squeezed under the door again. He was bound to catch that fox, but he
knew more than to go jumping through windows after him.
So Nibble just hopped up on the manger and from there onto the high
partition and stretched out his inquisitive nose where the glass had
been. There wasn’t much left for him to snub it against, I can tell you.
And the wind blew through it so hard that it laid his ears flat back.
“What is it?” demanded the Red Cow. She was learning to be curious, too,
and that’s the first step to being wise and sensible.
“It’s awfully hard,” Nibble answered. “I can bite ice, but I can’t bite
this.”
Just then who should open the door but Tommy Peele with the Red Cow’s
breakfast.
Right away he saw the glass was broken. But he wasn’t angry at all. He
just said, “Did you do that?” But he picked up every bit that had fallen
inside so folks wouldn’t cut their feet on it, and then he went around
to pick up what was outside, too. And he found some blood and a big tuft
of Silvertip’s hair on the wagon-box.
“Phew!” he whistled. “Bunny, this fur isn’t any of yours—nor that
footprint, either! You just wait until school is out and Watch and I’ll
just see about this!”
He hadn’t any time to do it then. For he had to stuff the Red Cow’s
manger full of hay and hurry fast to get to the schoolhouse before the
bell rang.
“Have some, Nibble,” she lowed politely. And the bunny didn’t need a
second invitation. His twitchy nose had been wiggling pretty fast from
the first minute he smelled that delicious clover.