HOW THE GREAT HUNT ENDED
Nibble Rabbit cuddled down comfortably in the bottom of the haystack.
Pretty soon he heard Trailer bark. “Aough! Here, Watch! Quick! Catch
him!”
“They didn’t get him that time, either,” thought Nibble as Trailer’s
voice settled down to the hunting call. “But I guess Silvertip’s too
busy to hurt me, and I must tell Doctor Muskrat to keep away from that
flat stone.” So off he went to the woods as fast as ever his paddy-feet
would carry him.
But he didn’t go straight to Doctor Muskrat’s Pool. He ran around the
lower end of the Prickly Ash Thicket, where his hole was, and jumped
across the brook. Then he came up on the far side of the pool and hid in
a clump of willows. Deep in the woods he could hear Trailer, still
baying. Everything else was very still. He thumped softly.
“M—m! Eh? Is that you, Nibble?” came the startled voice of the old
doctor. “Watch sent me over here and I fell asleep. We sat up all night
watching Silvertip, Whippoorwill and I. He slept curled up on that
rotten log just behind your hole.”
“Then the little owls did find a fieldmouse,” said Nibble. “They said
they’d make one show it to them and then eat him so he couldn’t tell
me.”
“Well, that’s just what they tried to do,” and the doctor’s eyes
twinkled, “but he managed to wriggle away when he got there and pop
right into it. And he dug along the big root that runs up into the mouse
tunnels and was down here for me to put a moss-seed poultice on his claw
wounds while they were still watching your doorway. A doctor knows
pretty much everything that goes on, I can tell you.”
“And Silvertip?” asked Nibble.
“Oh, that hound all but caught him!” the doctor exclaimed. “He came
sneaking out when Watch called me, and he was so busy trying to hear
what one dog had to say that he forgot all about the other. He squeaked
like a frightened mouse.”
“How exciting!” Nibble flicked his tufty little tail at the thought of
it. “I had Watch tell you not to go back to that flat stone because the
little owls know about it. Those bad little birds will do anything to
help Silvertip. They bargained with Foul Fang the Rattlesnake, and they
bargained with the grandson of Ouphe the Rat. They might bargain with
Slyfoot the Mink to watch it.”
“There’s someone watching it this very minute that the little owls
didn’t bargain with,” answered Doctor Muskrat. “It’s Grandpop Snapping
Turtle. He moves just a little closer every day, and then he settles
down in the mud so exactly like a stone himself, that even I can hardly
tell the difference. He’s very polite—but we’ll keep a safe distance
away from him. What’s that?”
For a shadow was floating over the old doctor’s pool.
Nibble and Doctor Muskrat crouched very low among the willow stems as it
sailed silently above them. It was just daybreak, when mice scuttle down
to drink and crayfish are stiff with the night’s chill—the best hunting
time of the day for the marsh hawk. The woods were very still; they
couldn’t hear even the distant barking of the dogs.
Pretty soon Nibble put up his head. “It’s the whippoorwill,” he
whispered, flashing a signal to the bird. “He’s got news of Silvertip!
Do you suppose they’ve caught him?” He was so excited that he squirmed
inside his furry skin.
“We’ll know in a minute,” said Doctor Muskrat, as the whippoorwill
dropped quietly to the ground.
But he fluttered in surprise when he saw the doctor. “Great beetles!” he
exclaimed. “I just saw your nose poking out of the water by the flat
stone.”
“Not his,” said Nibble. “We can’t go there, because the Bad Little Owls
who help Silvertip are watching it.”
“Yes,” put in the doctor, “and so is Grandpop Snapping Turtle, who helps
himself.”
“O—ho!” said the whippoorwill. “I thought it was you, hiding from the
little owls. They’re in the Quail’s Thicket.”
“And Silvertip?” asked Nibble.
“Silvertip’s too clever for those dogs. He’s got away,” said the
whippoorwill, sadly. “I know just how you feel. It’s awful to know he’s
always after you. But you did me a good turn when you found that
rattlesnake and showed it to Tommy Peele. And Tommy did me a good turn
when he shot it. I’ll help you all I can. Only when a fox is smart
enough to run along the top of a fence to hide his trail, what dog will
ever catch him?”
“There’s just one thing sure,” said Doctor Muskrat, “he’ll catch himself
with his own cleverness one of these days.”
“Listen!” breathed the whippoorwill. “He’s come back to the brook on his
own trail. Now he’s walking in the water to hide his footsteps while he
crosses to the Quail’s Thicket to see if the little owls have found
Nibble. Isn’t that smart?”
Ka-splash, ka-splash, ka-splash, ka-splash, went the cautious feet of
the fox. He was wading up the other side of the pond, nearer and nearer
to the flat stone. Ka-splash—he was right beside it. Ka-splash. “Yah!”
he screamed. “A trap! Urr—waur-r-r! Leggo, leggo!” he snarled, biting
the thing that gripped his leg.
Then slowly, surely, they saw him dragged deeper and deeper into the
pool.
“Oh!” gasped Nibble. “How awful! That was—Grandpop Snapping Turtle!”
“Lip, lip, lip,” sang the ripples against the shore. They broke in rings
about the poor fox’s nose as it disappeared. They travelled clear across
to the farthest shore where Nibble Rabbit and Doctor Muskrat were
crouching in the willows, and they whispered “Silvertip’s gone.”
“Poor Silvertip,” gasped Nibble. “I wouldn’t have minded a bit if the
dogs had caught him—but to be drowned—Ugh!” And he shivered.
“That’s all in the way you look at it,” answered the doctor. “You’re
used to the idea of having something run you down and kill you. But we
muskrats are quite used to the idea of being eaten by snapping turtles.
If I’m not clever enough to get away it doesn’t matter to me which gets
me in the end.”
“But he’s terribly dangerous,” Nibble insisted. “I should think you’d be
afraid to dive into the same pond with him. We must catch him. We can
get Tommy to help us.”
“There’s no need of that,” argued the wise old beast calmly. “I’ve grown
up in this pond. And Grandpop Snapping Turtle has been paddling around
in it every summer since I was born. He’s never troubled me because so
far I’m smarter than he is. When I get old and stupid perhaps he will.”
“But why should there be anything to catch us?” persisted Nibble. “Why
can’t we make a compact with them, like the cows made with the dogs, or
why can’t we make a compact with Man to help us kill them? Then it would
be like Mother Nature meant to have it in the First-Off Beginning.”
“You forget that they both were Mother Nature’s own children to start
with. Even she can’t make a compact with the
Things-that-came-from-under-the-earth like Grandpop. And those are the
worst enemies we have. Besides, I think even Mother Nature has changed
her mind about that first plan. Now she’s growing something she never
thought of.”
“What’s that?” asked Nibble, trying hard to guess.
“Brains! we’re learning to think. You’re safe enough if you know all
your enemy knows and then think for yourself besides. It’s only when
he’s cleverer than you are that he can catch you. If we had no enemies
we’d still be as stupid as plants—no, stupider—because they had to learn
to take care of themselves, too.”
“I see,” said Nibble, slowly. “Silvertip was safe on land because he was
smarter than any one else. He got caught when he took to the water
because Grandpop Snapping Turtle knew more about that than he did.”
“Exactly,” agreed Doctor Muskrat. “It was perfectly fair. Look at Man.
He had the most enemies and the least help from Mother Nature. Now no
one can hurt him but himself—he still has that much to learn. But he’s
wiser and safer than any one else in all the world. And his enemies
taught him.”
THE END