CHAPTER XI

WHY THE LITTLE OWLS' PLANS WENT WRONG

TOMMY PEELE got up early, very early, on Saturday morning and took care of his cows, for this was the day he was to hunt Silvertip the Fox with a gun. His big cousin Sandy had come with his hound, Trailer. Sandy was to do the shooting. And Watch took Trailer into a quiet corner and remarked: “I don't want to be unpleasant, but it's a fox, not a rabbit we're going to kill, and if you so much as yelp at another thing I'll tear the hide right off you.” And Trailer opened his big brown eyes and promised to he very careful.
All the woods and fields were ready, too, for the fox killed a great many things besides Tommy's chickens. Every one hoped Tommy would kill him; every one but little Mr. and Mrs. Screech Owl and Foul-Fang the Rattlesnake, who was hiding that very minute in the leaves in front of the fox's log.

Nibble wanted to warn Watch, but when he saw Trailer sniffing along beside him he didn't dare. So off he set toward the woods. And Watch and Trailer followed him. Pretty soon Trailer said: “I thought you weren't chasing rabbits.”
“I'm not,” growled Watch. “He's showing us where the fox is hidden.” And maybe that didn't set Trailer wondering.
Just then those Bad Little Owls stumbled past, bumping against the twigs, for they fly badly in the daytime. But they never reached Foul Fang, for Chaik the Jay, who was another of Tommy's friends, was lying in wait for them. He had his whole family to help him, and what they did to those Bad Little Owls!
Meantime, Nibble was going slowly and carefully on the lookout for Foul Fang. “Stop!” shrieked Chewee the Chickadee from a branch above him.
“Foul Fang's right in front of you. I saw him move a minute ago, but I can't see him until he moves again.”
Nibble froze in his tracks. Foul Fang was ahead, that strange dog was behind him. But he knew he mustn't let any one pass him. He waited until the dogs were very close, then he darted past them, right to Tommy's feet, calling:
“Foul Fang! Foul Fang!”
“Wait!” barked Watch to Trailer. “Something's wrong.” And he ran and caught Tommy by the coat to stop him. And of course Trailer and Tommy's cousin Sandy stopped, too.  "What's up?" demanded Sandy.
"I don't know,” said Tommy, “but there's my chickadee, and here's my rabbit. Something's frightening them.”
"There, there! Look!” squeaked Chewee, dancing about on his twig like a crazy bird. Foul Fang raised his ugly head to sniff at them. Then he wound into his striking coil.
"Bz-z-z!” began Foul Fang's rattle. "Bang-bang!” went Sandy's gun. “A snake! No wonder they were frightened!" exclaimed Sandy. “Lucky that rabbit saw him!”
"Wow-wow-WOW!” bayed Trailer, for Silvertip bolted out of his log and began to run.

"Bang-bang!” went the gun. And that did scare Nibble. It sent him flying through the woods, straight for for Muskrat's Pool.
The old doctor was out on his flat stone; but he wasn't asleep. He was sitting straight up with his round ears pricked and his whiskers stiffened, listening. Ka-flick, ka-flick, came the long bounces of Nibble Rabbit. “Chickadee-dee-dee-dee-ee!” rang out the joyful shout of Chewee, just a little way behind him. “We-e-e-ak!” came the far-away squeak of a fieldmouse. “We-e-e-aw!” echoed one nearer at paw. “R-r-r-r!” drummed a partridge, and a meadowlark who was drinking remarked: “That's a death beat, but he isn't muffling it. Sounds as though he were mighty glad about it.”

Ka - flick - thump! Nibble Rabbit landed beside the doctor. “I warned Tommy!” was all he had breath to gasp. But here came Chewee, his wings whirring like a humming bird's, his eyes popping like a crawfish's, as though they had stalks to stand on.

“Whee!” he screeched. “You ought to see-ee-ee!”
“See what?” called Chaik, who was hurrying by to find out what all the noise meant, and he circled back to listen.
“Foul Fang!” squeaked Chewee, turning somersaults on a bulrush. “He's in three pieces, and his tail is cut off and his wicked scales are squirming in the sun.”
“Yeah!” squawked Chaik, dancing on his wings. “And those Bad Little Owls are hiding in the Brushpile. I'm all mussed up from climbing in after them, but my relatives and I have picked them 'most as clean as the mice picked Nibble's woodchuck. I'm going back to shout the news at them. Yeah!” And off he flew.
“What did it?" gasped Nibble.
“You silly rabbit,” chuckled Doctor Muskrat. “That 'bang!' was a gun.”

“Oh,” and Nibble sat up to think. “The partridge did say Man could make more noise than a summer storm. He certainly can!”
“Why, Nibble!” teased Doctor Muskrat, his shiny little eyes twinkling, “didn't you ever hear a gun? Every other creature in all the Woods and Fields has been waiting for that noise to celebrate the death of Silvertip the Fox. That was what Tommy Peele brought out here to kill him.”
“Did it?” demanded Nibble Rabbit. He knew that it pretty nearly stunned one small and scary rabbit he could tell about.
“Not if it bit Foul Fang in three pieces,” answered the wise old doctor. “That takes two bites, one for each noise. Silvertip isn't bitten yet.” “Shot” was what he meant, but the Woodsfolk don't use that word.
“How do you know he isn't bitten?” squealed Chewee the Chickadee. He was twirling and tumbling about the bulrushes because he was too happy and excited to keep still. “He jumped right out under the nose of Trailer, that hound Tommy Peele brought to help his own dog Watch. And the last I saw he was just about two steps ahead of Trailer's jaws.”
“Ssh!” warned Doctor Muskrat, and he cocked his ears. Far, far away they could hear Trailer calling, “Where, where'?” And Watch answered: “Isn't this fox'?” and Tommy Peele's cousin was shouting: “Hie out, Trailer! Find him!”

“You see,” said the doctor, “Silvertip's saved his skin this time. But we'll find him again.”
He was right. Late in the afternoon Tommy came trudging along with his head down, too unhappy to listen to the “Thank you” the meadowlarks were singing, and the one Chewee brought from the partridge. For every creature that lived or nested on the ground was more than grateful to be rid of Foul Fang. Tommy's big cousin Sandy was carrying his gun, and his dog Trailer was so tired he could scarcely crawl. Watch was tired and sheepish besides. He came down for a drink and whispered: 'See where Silvertip sleeps. We'll be out again to-morrow.”
“I wonder how he got away,” said Nibble, stamping impatiently. He'd come from eating a dandelion head in the Quail's Thicket to see what Watch had to say.
“I can tell you,” came the soft whisper of the whippoorwill who had skimmed a drink as he flew across the pond, leaving a wake of tiny, quiet ripples. “There's still deep water in the ditches. Silvertip splashed along in it to hide his trail and then sneaked into the culvert where it runs under the woods road. The frogs say he almost drowned. But he shivered in there with only his nose out until Trailer circled past. Then he ran back in the ditch on the other side and jumped over to a tree that was broken off by the terrible storm. He climbed up the limbs to the broken stump-it's ten good wingbeats above the ground-and curled up in a woodduck's nest. And he ate every egg she'd laid, too. Now he's coming this way.”
“My stars, Nibble!” exclaimed the doctor, “you can't sleep here. Warn Watch and hide somewhere up near the barn!” So off Nibble ran.

CHAPTER XII

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 Chalik 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 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.”

CHAPTER XIII

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, lie 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 field-mouse,” 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.”

“0-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, kasplash, 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