HOW LONG EARS HEARD BAD NEWS
The minute the whippoorwill said that Silvertip the Fox was coming right
back into the very woods Tommy Peele and his cousin Sandy and the dogs
had just driven him out of, they knew he did it for just one reason: he
was bound to catch Nibble. So that was no place for a sensible bunny. It
was really pretty scary.
But you know Nibble. He can’t stay frightened, because he’s so terribly
curious. Before ever he hunted himself a safe place to sleep he had to
sneak into the Brushpile and listen to the Bad Little Owls. They were
just creeping out from beneath it, where they had hidden away from Chaik
Jay and his family.
“Are you all right?” asked Mr. Owl. “I feel better since I slept, but
those jays gave us a terrible mauling.”
“My poor wings!” mourned his wife. “I am ashamed to be seen in them.”
“What’s a lot worse, we’ll have hardly a thing to fly with, until our
fall feathers come in,” he complained. “My wings aren’t very bad, but
I’ll never be able to steer until my tail grows.”
“I’m going to watch Chaik’s nest,” scolded the Lady Owl, “and let Mrs.
Hooter drag his wife out by the claws as soon as ever she gets back
here. Her owlets are out already, so it won’t be long. And I’ll smash
every one of Chaik’s eggs with my very own beak—see if I don’t!” Mrs.
Owl was still nearly crying over her ruffled feathers.
“No, you won’t!” snapped her husband. The husband, you know, is always
the timid one of an owl family. “We’d have Tommy Peele shooting us next!
What do you think made Chaik take after us, eh? He was helping Tommy.
That boy wouldn’t have a chance of finding that clever fox if half the
Woodsfolk weren’t helping him. It’s a bad thing to have any man so
friendly with them.” Of course it was, for a bad bird like the owl or a
bad beast like Silvertip.
“It certainly is,” she agreed. “Tommy would be hunting them all just as
hard as we do if it weren’t for that rabbit. It’s all his fault. We’ve
got to get rid of him. Let’s tell Silvertip about the flat stone where
he thumps for Doctor Muskrat.”
“Let’s find his hole,” said her husband. “Every mouse in the Woods and
Fields knows about it; they went there this spring for woodchuck fur to
make a charm against us owls. I’ll show them if it can keep me from
catching one. Then we’ll offer to let him go if he tells us.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “and then we can eat him afterward, so he won’t run
and warn that rabbit.”
“Thank you so much for all this information,” said Nibble to himself.
“If Silvertip stays in the woods tonight I can sleep very comfortably in
the haystack.”
Nibble slept in the haystack that night, but he didn’t sleep any too
well, because the news of Foul Fang’s death had travelled ’way up to the
barn and the mice were celebrating. Besides, he had to sleep with one
ear up, listening for Watch.
He heard the old dog padding past early in the morning, before even the
birds were awake, and thumped to call him. In another minute Watch and
Trailer the hound, who was with him, were sniffing at the door of Ouphe
the Rat’s old tunnel under the hay. “What’s on your mind?” the big dog
whined softly. “Trailer won’t chase you.”
“I know he won’t,” Nibble chuckled. “I’m not going to run for him. I’m
going to stay snuggled up in here until I hear him busy after
Silvertip.”
“There,” said Watch proudly, “Trailer, I told you Nibble would find
him.”
“But I don’t see how we lost him,” Trailer insisted. “He simply
disappeared in the middle of a hot trail. I never lifted my nose from
it.”
“The whippoorwill said he took to water and then climbed up into the
woodduck’s nest in the top of that fallen tree,” said Nibble. “But why
didn’t the gun catch him? That’s what I want to know.”
“The gun’s a stupid thing,” Trailer explained. “It bangs twice and then
it has to be fed again before it will do anything more.” (He knew it was
no use to tell Nibble about putting fresh shells into a double-barrelled
shotgun, because even Watch, who was a very wise dog, didn’t
understand.) “My man Sandy was so excited over shooting the snake that
he forgot to feed it. He didn’t hear me bark until Silvertip and I were
out of sight in the brush. And Silvertip was gone before he found me
again. That gun has to use his eyes to see with and his legs to run
with, and no man’s fast enough to chase a fox. That’s why Watch and I
think we can get him just as easily if we go out alone.”
“Yes, and I don’t like taking Tommy Peele to meet strange snakes in
strange woods,” said Watch. “It worries me so I can’t keep my mind on
what I’m doing.”
“Of course,” Nibble agreed. “Well, last night I overheard the little
screech owls in the Brushpile—my paddy-paws are good for more than to
scrub my ears with, I can tell you. They’re so quiet even the owls
didn’t hear them, and they said they were going to tell Silvertip to
watch the flat stone where I thump for Doctor Muskrat, or my hole. He’ll
be one place or the other. And please tell Doctor Muskrat I’ll go around
to the far side of the pool to meet him.”
“All right,” promised Watch. And off went the dogs with their tails
wagging. “I tell you what,” growled Trailer, “that rabbit is a great
help to hunt with.”