TAD’S TRICKS COME HOME TO ROOST
But there was a whole lot of excitement near the Pond. There was Tad
Coon snug in the crotch of a tree, there was Trailer the Hound sniffing
the top of the stump where Tad had sat to keep out of reach of the angry
turtle, and there was Nibble Rabbit snuggled beneath the Pickery Things,
so curious that he couldn’t sit still.
Pretty soon Trailer began to whimper. “Coon, coon, coon,” he said to
himself. “Where did he come from? Where did he go?” And he was so
puzzled that he shook his head until his ears flopped.
That was too much for Tad Coon. He pulled off a strip of bark and
dropped it right on top of Trailer. The hound jumped as though something
had stung him.
And wasn’t Nibble surprised? He didn’t see how Tad dared play tricks on
the very dog he said was his worst enemy.
Pretty soon Tad began to call out: “Hey; you hound, go away! I want to
come down before that Man with the gun gets back here.”
“Go away?” barked Trailer. “I most certainly won’t. I’ll stay right here
and keep you until I see what Sandy and Tommy Peele want to do with
you.”
“Tommy won’t hurt you,” shouted Nibble. “He’ll just make friends with
you.”
“No, thank you,” grinned Tad Coon. “Not the way he makes friends. I
don’t want to be trapped like you and Doctor Muskrat, and I don’t want
to be hunted like Silvertip the Fox. I’m going.”
“But you haven’t been stealing his chickens like Silvertip did,” argued
Nibble.
“How do you know?” asked Tad. For it was his guilty conscience that made
him afraid. He didn’t exactly steal Tommy Peele’s chickens, but he had
eaten some eggs that were very nearly hatched. And all this time Nibble
could see him working away at something with his little handy-paws.
Pretty soon he called again: “Mister Hound, I asks you for the last
time, are you going to let me down?”
“Yah!” barked Trailer. “I ’most certainly am not.”
“Hm,” sniffed Tad Coon. “We’ll see about that, then.” Blam! He hit
Trailer square on the head with something. And this time the hound
jumped because he really was stung. “Ow, ow, ow!” he yelped, and he
started for home on the run with a trail of buzzing insects strung out
behind him.
[Illustration: Tad Coon hits Trailer on the head with a hornet’s nest.]
“Run, run, run!” squalled Tad. “Look at that hound run! He’s only
hitting the high spots. Ye-a-o-u-w! See him go!” And he danced about on
the limb until the limb danced with him.
Trailer was surely running--faster than ever he’d run on any trail. But
this time he wasn’t chasing any one--the buzzers were chasing him. For
it wasn’t a piece of bark Tad threw down the last time--it was the fat
round nest of some paper wasps.
Nibble Rabbit wasn’t seeing any of the fun. He knew something about
paper wasps. They were buzzing all over everywhere, and they don’t care
who they sting when they get angry. He sat very still in the Pickery
Things with his twitchy nose tucked down between his furry feet, and his
waggly ears laid flat back, and his bright eyes squinched up as tight as
ever he could shut them. Some of those wasps flew right by him and never
knew he was anything but a round stone--not even the one that tangled
its legs in his whiskers. He did feel awfully sorry for poor Trailer;
but all the same Tad Coon had been pretty smart to send him home.
But Tad Coon wasn’t quite as smart as he thought he was. Trailer ran so
fast that he left most of those wasps behind him. And he went bouncing
through the brush at such a rate that he scraped a lot more off of him.
Pretty soon they began coming back to where their nest had been. And
they couldn’t find it. That didn’t improve their tempers, I can tell
you. But if they couldn’t find their nest, they certainly could find Tad
Coon. And just didn’t they?
Now it was Tad’s turn to howl. “Ow-ow-ow!” he cried. And he squinched up
his eyes as tight as ever Nibble did and began to scramble down as fast
as ever his little handy-paws would let him. But when he opened his
mouth a wasp stung him right on the tongue, and when he shut it his
little black nose got the stinging. And when he tried to cover it with
his paw he lost his hold and went tumbling down to the ground.
Blam! It almost knocked the breath out of him. But he rolled over and
over till he found his feet and then he scuttled to Doctor Muskrat’s
Pond as fast as he could limp on three of them. He kept trying to brush
the wasps off his nose and ears with the other one, until he could jump
into the water. And then he splashed around as hard as ever he could.
The wasps didn’t like that a little bit, because they can’t fly when
their wings get wet. So they went away and left him.
Then poor Tad Coon began shouting: “Do’ Mu’a! Do’ Mu’a!” Because his
poor stung tongue couldn’t say Doctor Muskrat.
He wished he hadn’t dropped that wasps’ nest down on Trailer. And he
wished those wasps hadn’t come back and stung him. And he wished he
hadn’t fallen out of the tree and bumped himself. And he wished his nose
wasn’t swollen up so he couldn’t see around it. And he wished his poor
tongue wasn’t hanging out of the corner of his mouth with such a great
big sting that he couldn’t say any of his wishes. All he could do was
shout “Do’ Mu’a!” when he was trying with all his might to shout “Doctor
Muskrat!” And Doctor Muskrat wouldn’t come.
But Nibble Rabbit did. And when he heard Tad Coon’s great big sobs and
saw the tears in his eyes he felt mighty sorry for him. So he began to
thump and pound for the doctor.
Pretty soon Doctor Muskrat came out on top of his house in the middle of
the pond and answered. “I hear you,” he snapped. “And I heard Tad Coon
in the first place. But I’m not going to do anything for him. I don’t
mind the funny tricks he plays, but that one just played on Trailer the
Hound was cruel.”
“I ’o,” sniffed Tad. “I i’ ‘o’ i’ u’ hu’ ho.”
“He didn’t know it would hurt so,” Nibble translated. “Don’t scratch
your ears, Tad. Come over and let me lick them.”
“That’s no excuse,” said Doctor Muskrat severely. “What if Tommy Peele
thinks we did it? That hound can’t explain. And he doesn’t know anybody
else is here with us.”
“Yes, but Tad doesn’t know Tommy,” Nibble pleaded. “He’s awfully afraid
of being caught. You know how that hurts your own self. And lots of
times they put coons in cages, and I didn’t like my cage. But he’s sorry
as anything that he did it.”
“So I see,” said the doctor, just as gruffly as ever, and he dove back
into the pond. Poor Tad hitched himself over to the flat stone so Nibble
could fix his ears while he splashed the cool water over his nose and
tongue. My, but he was meek! He didn’t even blame Doctor Muskrat for
being angry with him.
Then suddenly up popped a head right beside him. “Open your mouth,” said
the doctor. “Bite on that.” And he slipped a soft, soothing chewed root
poultice on to Tad’s tongue. “Now raise your head.” And he clapped a
blue clay plaster on Tad’s nose. “Snort!” And Tad snorted a pair of
holes to breathe through. “There,” said he; “you’ll be all right before
long.”
But Nibble had his ears pricked. “There comes Watch,” he said. “I heard
him bark. Tad can’t run.”
“You hide him in the Pickery Things,” ordered the doctor. “I’ll try to
get this matter settled.”
“M-m-m-m!” grunted Tad Coon gratefully through his poultice. And he
limped off after Nibble, still holding up his nose.