CHAPTER VI
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. Arid 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 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 be 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.

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.
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 bad been wiggling pretty fast from the first minute he smelled that delicious clover.

CHAPTER VII

THE WHITE COW BEGINS A STORY

IF THE smell of that delicious hay in the Red Cow's manger made Nibble's nose go fast, the taste of it made his hungry little jaws go still faster. And the Red Cow was just about as busy as he was. Her big teeth wouldn't move quite so quickly, but she could take bigger bites to make up for lost time.
They were still eating when he heard a loud snort just outside. So he jumped up on the windowsill again to be sure who it was. “Hello, Rabbit,” came the White Cow's nice fluty voice as she saw his whiskers in the window. “I told you you'd come back again.”
“Oh, the Red Cow's got such a cunning calf in here I just have to come,” he laughed.
“She has, has she” mooed the White Cow. “I'd like to see it myself.” She was a motherly old beast, so she really did love babies. “Is it all right? That wolf who ran through the milking barns has been around here-I can smell him. Calves are what they always come for.”
“That was only Silvertip the Fox,” he chuckled. “He's gone!”
Still the White Cow kept shaking her head and snorting. “He's no business here. He's a wolf, and it's plain against the compact.”
“What compact, please, Madame Snowflake?" lowed the Red Cow.
“Why, the compact between Cows and Man,” she answered. “You know Man used to hunt us. It must have been dreadful, for one man is worse than a whole pack of wolves “

“Exactly what Doctor Muskrat says!” exclaimed Nibble.
“Well, it's true,” she asserted. “Cows are all right so long as they keep all together. But you can't have little new wobbly babies in a herd because we're so near-sighted someone would be sure to step on them. So the mothers used to go off and hide them until they grew strong enough not to let themselves get stepped on. And the wolves and the men would watch out for them. No matter how careful the cows were someone would be sure to find them. Long before they came, the mothers would get all scary and unhappy just thinking about it.”
“I felt just that way!” gasped the Red Cow. “Didn't I, Nibble?"
“Well, after a long time Man made a compact with the cows. He promised that if they'd live with him and give him milk and plough his fields and let him take the meat of certain ones, not the young heifers or the mothers, he'd keep the wolves away from them.”
“How did that happen?" asked Nibble excitedly, for he guessed it was one of those tales of the First-Off Beginning of Things.
And sure enough, the White Cow began, “Well, as I said, both Man and wolves hunted the cows in the First-Off Beginning. That was bad enough. But when Man made friends with the dogs, who were really wolves, it was worse yet. They both knew all the tricks between them.
“There was a river wandering through the plain where the cows used to feed, and it had a rocky island standing up in the middle of it. The island was hollow as a cup and full of brush and grass, and there was only one crack in the rocks where a cow could just squeeze through to get into it. It was a secret among the cows, who only went there to raise their calves, and they were careful to walk a long way in the water to hide their trails before they crossed over to it. So the wolves would never have found it. But a man did.
“He was hunting cows. So were a pack of wolves, and they saw he had only one dog, so they decided to hunt him instead. They say a man is very good eating. So he ran for the island. Because he knew if he could climb high up on the tall rocks they couldn't climb up after him. He had to take his dog by the scruff of the neck to help him. And of course when he got up high he could see everything-the two cows who were grazing in the middle of the island and the narrow passage between the rocks, and the wolves running around and around looking for a place where they could get in.
“The cows couldn't see the wolves, but they could hear them. So one of them, who was an old cow and very wise, galloped over to the passage. And when the wolves got there she was stopping the way with her sharp horns.
“I don't know how long she could have stayed there, for there were a great many wolves and only one cow, but the man was wiser yet. He saw a big tippy boulder that he could roll down to block the passage so nobody could possibly get in. And he gave it a big shove. Smash, it went down right in the middle of the wolves! It killed the leader and another wolf, and the rest got scared and ran away.
“So did the cow, for the man's dog started right after her. But the man called him back. 'Come here!' he called. 'Stop that, you foolish thing. The wolves would have picked our bones if she hadn't helped us. That's one cow you can never kill.'

“The dog came back with his tail between his legs, grumbling to himself. 'This is very queer. It's the first time in all my life I was told not to kill anything.' And of course the cow heard him. And it set her thinking.”

CHAPTER VIII

HOW THE MAN'S WIFE MADE THE COMPACT WITH THE COWS

THE White Cow stopped talking quite as though she had finished her story. But Nibble Rabbit and the Red Cow, who were listening with all their ears, both broke out: “Please, Mrs. Snowflake, you haven't said a word yet about the compact!”
“Pickery thistles!” she exclaimed. “So I haven't. I was just thinking about it instead. Well, the man was in the middle of that little hollow island with the high rocks all around it, and so were the cows. The dog was growling because he couldn't kill the cow, and the cow was wondering why the man wouldn't let him. But most of all she was wondering how quickly she and her calf would starve because that stone blocked up the passage.
“The man was thinking about that, too. For the cow had saved his life by keeping out the wolves; that made him in debt to her. And if a man was careless about his debts he was sure to be dreadfully unlucky. Either he had to roll away that stone so the cow could go over to the plains to graze- and he knew he couldn't do that-or he had to bring the grass to her.
“Bright and early next morning he went to bring the grass to feed that cow. He found it was lots of trouble, especially since he didn't have his wife there to help him. So he decided to bring her.
“He told her how nice and safe it was in the middle of that rocky island until she got quite delighted at the idea of living there. So she packed their belongings on her back, slung their baby in front of her, and started out. She waded the stream all right, but she stopped at the big rock which blocked up the passage.
“'I won't stay here at all unless you take that out of there,' she said. 'It's too inconvenient.'
“So of course he just had to. And when it comes right down to 'having to' a man can do almost anything. But he had a terrible time. He heaved and clawed and shoved and rolled until his fingers and arms were sore. Then he picked up a stick, because it was easier to handle-and he learned how to pry that stone out of the passage.
“In walked his wife and began to settle their new home. Out walked the cows, and over they went to the plain to pick their own grass, but they left their calves hidden on the island. So, after they had finished feeding, back they came.
“Then the man took his stick and pried the rock into the passage again for fear the wolves would come back. And his wife stared at the cows and the cows stared at his wife, but still they didn't make any compact.”
Nibble Rabbit and the Red Cow were both fairly stamping their feet with impatience because the White Cow wouldn't hurry right along with her story. But she brought a big wad of cud all the way up her long neck and stood there chewing it while she thought things over.  Finally she swallowed it and went on.
“I told you the man learned to use the great stone for a gate to the narrow passageway where the cows squeezed through. But I didn't tell you how angry the wolves were about that.
“They were simply raging. Night after night they gnashed their jaws and howled around those rocks, but their claws wouldn't climb them. And the man's dog would sit up on top and shout insults at them. And the two cows would snuggle together in the brush with their calves between them and say, 'Those wolves would have eaten us long ago if the man hadn't been here.'

“They got very used to the man and his family. They didn't walk 'way round his fire any more, or make eyes at his wife, and the calves got very friendly with his baby. But his wife used to look hard at them. 'It's all very well to take care of the cow who saved your life,' she'd say to the man, 'but how about that other one?'
“'Well, what about her?' he'd answer. 'She isn't any trouble.'
“'She ought to pay for being taken care of.' insisted his wife. 'It's all very well for this year, but next year these calves will be grown up and there will be new ones and we'll be all cluttered up with cattle.'
“She thought and thought. At last she caught up her biggest clamshell and walked down into the thicket where the cows stood. And the dog went with her. 'Old Cow,' she said, 'you can live with us for ever and ever because you stopped the passageway with your horns when the wolves were trying to get in to kill my husband. Young Cow, you will have to pay something if you're going to live with us.' And with that she tried to milk the young cow into her clamshell.
“The young cow didn't like it a little bit. But she was afraid of the dog, and besides the old cow argued, 'You have milk to spare, and you'll never have any place as safe as this. Let me talk to her.'

“So the young cow gave in and let herself be milked. But the old one said to the woman: 'We'll stay with you and give you milk so long as you see we get food and water and protect us from the wolves. But the minute you don't we'll go off and be wild again, and you'll be no better off than you were before.'
“'Agreed,' said the woman. 'The dog will be our witness.'
“So that was the beginning of the compact. The cows settled down to live with the man and his family. But after the woman was gone the wise old cow said comfortably, 'It's spring now. She doesn't think how much trouble it will be to feed us through the winter.'”
“Wasn't that old cow clever!” exclaimed Nibble admiringly.
The White Cow snorted. “She was wise. But that woman was wiser. She knew that if she waited long enough there would be cattle on that island who hadn't any milk, so she and the man could bargain some more with them. They had to carry loads and pull ploughs; they even had to let the man kill certain ones. They didn't like that a little bit, but the wise old cow argued, 'It's better than being hunted by both wolves and men.' So they finally gave in. It was really a good bargain for us,” finished the White Cow thoughtfully, “but it was a better one for the man. After he learned to build barns as safe as that island he gave up hunting.”

CHAPTER IX

HOW A BUNNY UNDERTOOK TO HUNT A FOX

MADAME SNOWFLAKE swished her tail thoughtfully for a moment; then she went
back to chewing her cud as a sign that her story was all done.
“My horns!” exclaimed the Red Cow. “That's awfully interesting.”
“Yes,” drawled the story-teller. “But can't you see how worrisome it is? If Tommy Peele lets wolves go galloping through this barn we'll have to go wild again. It's in the compact. That's what I've been trying to explain.”

“Noo-oo-oo,” the Red Cow moaned. “I don't want to go wild. I won't go wild again. I've been wild once, and I like being Tommy Peele's tame cow ever so much better.”
“Nonsense!” interrupted Nibble Rabbit, sitting up very straight. “It hasn't anything at all to do with you cows. Silvertip's no more of a wolf than Watch is. Besides, I'm the only one he was chasing. He won't come back again unless I do, and I won't come until there isn't any Silvertip to chase me.”
“Hoo-oo,” teased the White Cow. “What can you do to Silvertip?”
“Wait and see,” said Nibble. And off he set. But as he ran he said to himself, “Silvertip's very big and clever- whatever can I do to him?"
For a while he was just about the most thoughtful bunny that ever flopped an ear. He'd made the White Cow a great big promise, one no grownup rabbit would ever have thought of.
And he had to have help about it.

He was pretty glad, I can tell you, when he saw Watch scouting about the pasture with his nose to the ground.
“Have you found where Silvertip went to?" Nibble asked when the big dog stopped to speak with him.
“No,” said Watch in a discouraged tone. “There was a mist this morning and it's washed away all the scent. But what do you want of Silvertip?”
“I've got to help you catch him,” murmured Nibble.
“You!” exclaimed Watch. “You must be as crazy as a chickadee! Has anything bitten you?" You know dogs are terribly afraid of being bitten by a crazy beast-it makes them go mad, too.

“No. But-but I promised the White Cow that I wouldn't come back to the barn while Silvertip was alive to chase into it after me-and I won't stay away from the Red Cow's baby for ever and ever. Something's got to happen to Silvertip.”
“I wouldn't want him chasing me if I were you,” Watch agreed. This sounded more sensible. “But I don't see what the White Cow has to do with it.”

“She says Silvertip is really a wolf,” Nibble explained, “and if Tommy Peele lets wolves come right into his barn, whether it's calves or rabbits they're hunting, the cows will have to go wild again. That's in the compact between cows and man in the First-Off Beginning.”
“Wurr-r-r ! “Watch growled thoughtfully. “So it is. But that's my trouble, and the cow's and Tommy's. It hasn't anything to do with you.”
Suddenly Nibble remembered something and quoted:

“By dusk and by dawn you shall travel alone,

And all troubles are yours excepting your own.

That's my fortune. The stars told it to Doctor Muskrat the day I left home.”

“I understand,” Watch nodded wisely. “Well, the trouble about all this is that I can't explain it to Tommy. And we need him. What can you do to Silvertip-except give him a stomachache from eating too much rabbit, eh?"
“I can see where he is and what he does. I know how he gets into the chicken coop and where he hid the pullet he stole this morning and the feathers from all the rest he's been stealing
“How - when - where!” barked Watch excitedly. “We don't have to tell that to Tommy-we can show it to him. Quick, Nibble! How did Silvertip get into the chicken coop? Tommy'll be home from school any minute.”
So Nibble took him around to the little back door. “That fox is certainly clever,” sniffed Watch. “He's gnawed the hook right off. I've smelt him around here dozens of times, but I never thought of looking inside of the coop for him.” Then he lifted it with his nose, just as Silvertip had done, but he was too big to crawl in.
It was Nibble who squeezed through and took a hop on to the soft straw of the chicken coop floor. Then he sat up to sniff around. The hens were scratching busily, but the rooster was dozing off a full crop on his perch. Nibble poked his nose into a box of feed and the bird next to him went, “Cut, cut!” That woke the rooster. He opened his eye and caught sight of Nibble's whiskers.
“Er-er-err, I'm Chanticleer!” he crowed. “And you're the rascal who stole my beautiful young wife, Specklefeather, this morning! You're the one who took Stripedwing, the best setting hen ever a rooster owned, and dear little red-wattled Miriorca-and all the rest who've been snatched from my perches. Your time has come! I'll show you!" and he flapped down and began to peck poor Nibble and kick him with those long spurs roosters wear on their legs.
“Wait a minute, wait a minute!” Nibble cried. But the rooster wouldn't listen. Then a voice behind Nibble called, “Here, here,” and he darted under the perches and squeezed into a dark nest beside a hen.
“There,” she clucked. “That old bully never comes here. It isn't proper for a rooster to come into the nesting corner. Poor Stripedwing. She used to set in here most of the time because he was so cruel to her. And he killed our son because Minorca was in love with him. I wish the fox had taken him."

Nibble peeked out again and saw the rooster strutting around as though he'd really done something grand, calling on the hens to admire him. And now he could hear Watch shouting, “Come along, Tommy-come quick!” In a minute more he was barking outside the front door, and Tommy opened it.
“What's the matter?" asked Tommy. Out hopped Nibble Rabbit. “However did you get in here?" gasped the little boy. And with that Nibble slipped through the little back door as neat as you please. Maybe Tommy didn't whistle! And maybe he wasn't still more surprised when he saw the hook all gnawed! But maybe he wasn't maddest of all when Nibble and Watch took him across the field to Silvertip's fence corner, all full of feathers, with poor dead Specklefeather lying in the middle of it!
“The fox!” Tommy exclaimed. “Old chicken thief; he ought to be hunted with a gun!”
“That's all right,” Watch wagged his tail. “Now Toimny, I'll find the gun and a man to shoot it, but we'll have to find Silvertip so they can shoot him. I'll sleep in the haystack and watch the barn, and you see if he's hidden in the woods.”
So Nibble cocked his own little puffy tail and laid back his ears and scuttled through the cornfield. Because the first one he meant to ask was Doctor Muskrat. And it didn't take much thumping to wake the doctor.
“My whiskers, but I'm glad to see you,” said the nice old beast as soon as he got his nose out of the water. “I was afraid that fox had really caught you. He came down here for a drink early this morning. He was feeling pretty sick, but he said he wasn't going to do another thing until he'd pulled your long ears out by the roots and made a meal of you.”
“Well, he doesn't want to find me any more than I want to find him,” said Nibble. And he told how Silvertip had followed him into the barn and jumped smash through the window, and what trouble that made for the cows, and the way he'd killed Tommy's chickens, and how angry Tommy was about it.
“Shoot him? I wish they would.” Doctor Muskrat agreed. “He's the worst beast in all the woods and fields, and we've plenty more to look out for- Slyfoot the Mink and the Marsh Hawk are back, and Grandpop Snapping Turtle is out again-but you'll have to be mighty careful. You dig yourself a root and stay hidden while I see what the birds know about him.”
So Doctor Muskrat asked every bird who came down to drink if he'd keep an eye out for Silvertip. That was a great many, too, for whole clouds of them were coming north on every south wind. But they were all so busy about courting and nesting it was three days before Doctor Muskrat had any news. Late in the evening a whippoorwill came dipping down like a great feathery moth and called softly: “Doctor Muskrat!” Then he perched on the doctor's house and whispered:
“Silvertip's living in the hollow log that shadows my last year's nest. He's still too sick to hunt anything but frogs and tadpoles and the eggs of us poor ground birds, but the minute he can gallop he's going to get that rabbit. He lies there growling and swearing about him.”
Nibble couldn't hear what the whippoorwill said. And that was lucky, because he was lying very stiff in the Quail's Thicket with those screech owls perched right above him,

CHAPTER X
THE WICKED PLOT OF THE BAD LITTLE OWLS

AS SOON as the whippoorwill had finished whispering the news about where Silvertip was hiding, he flew off so quietly that even the doctor couldn't hear him. Then the wise old beast raised his queer, thin call, almost like a whistle, to tell Nibble Rabbit he was wanted, and swam quite as quietly to the place in the bulrushes by the pond where they always met.
But no Nibble came. Nibble Rabbit was still hiding in the Quail's Thicket, listening to Mr. and Mrs. Screech Owl, who were perched right above him.
“That bird's telling him about Silvertip,” said one. “If it had been any other bird in the woods he'd have spoken so we could overhear him.”
“I wish he had,” said the other. “We've picked that last hen so clean we'll have to hunt for ourselves if we can't find him. I wonder what that muskrat wants of him. He's been asking every bird who came down to drink for the last three days. I heard Chaik the Jay talking to Cheewee the Chickadee about it just when I was going to sleep this morning.”
“What did they say?" demanded Mrs. Screech Owl. The lady owl is always the more thoughtful. They both live in trees. Silvertip never bothers them.
“I didn't understand,” said her mate. “Chaik was insisting that they must all hunt hard for Silvertip. He said that it concerned every good friend of Tommy Peele's.”
“You pinfeathered idiot!” she exclaimed. “Why didn't you tell me that before! That explains why Tommy Peele and his dog were sniffing about Silvertip's fence corner. And that rabbit was with them. He's at the bottom of all this. Something's wrong there. I never knew a wild rabbit to be friends with a dog in all my life. If he'll do that he'll do anything. Silvertip must be warned. We can't let anything happen to him. Besides, think how much he could do for us if he felt grateful.”
“Grateful? Not much. A fox is never grateful. But he'd know we were useful and that amounts to the same thing. I wonder why that rabbit doesn't answer Doctor Muskrat?" and Mr. Screech Owl flew cautiously over the doctor's house in the middle of the pond. Back he came to where his wife was still thinking. “He must have meant that call for the whippoorl!” he said to his mate. “He's gone to bed.”

“We must get some friend who lives on the ground to keep watch for us, too,” said the Lady Owl thoughtfully. “Only Silvertip has no friends. He'll eat anybody.”
“Excepting old Foul Fang the Rattlesnake,” said Mr. Screech Owl. “We could buy Foul Fang's service for a mouse a day. I'll just do that, and you go up to the house, not the barn, mind, and see if you can get a word with that grandson of Ouphe the Rat's who lives there. Silvertip's never hunted him. By the kitchen door-now flutter!” And away they went.
But Nibble waited until he was perfectly sure they had gone before he crept down to talk with Doctor Muskrat in the bulrushes.
And he was a pretty trembly little rabbit. He hopped very carefully, gliding from shadow to shadow like a fieldmouse. And the doctor never moved when Nibble Rabbit slipped in beside him; he was listening to the stars as they danced in the pool just exactly the way he had done the night they told him Nibble's fortune. He was muttering:

“Let him who is both young and wise

Beware the killer with lidless eyes.

“Yes, that's all I can make out of it,” said the old doctor slowly. “Now what does that mean, I wonder?"
“I know,” gasped Nibble, “I know- it's Foul Fang the Rattlesnake. The little owls don't want us to catch that fox, Silvertip, because he catches chickens and leaves their bones for the owls to pick. They heard Chaik the Jay and Chewee the Chickadee talking about
it. So the he-owl has gone out to hire Foul Fang to help them. They're going to pay him a mouse a day to do it. And his wife has gone up to the house to bargain with the grandson of Ouphe the Rat who lives in the walls. He's to keep watch on Tommy and warn them what he means to do about Silvertip. But they don't know where Silvertip is."

“That's one good thing,” the doctor nodded. “And another is that Silvertip has no friends-nor the owls, either. They only work for him because of what he gives them, and they have to hire their own helpers. Now all the woods know how you help any one who's in trouble, and Tommy Peele has quite a few friends. I can't see whether this warning is for you or for Tommy.”
“Tommy, of course. Watch the Dog says he's the cleverest boy in all the world, and Watch is his dog, so he ought to know about him,” said Nibble promptly.
“Hm,” laughed Doctor Muskrat into his whiskers. “Well, for a rabbit, you know a thing or two. What cheers me up is this. The stars never warn about something that's surely going to happen. They warn so you can be careful and escape your enemies. Now I'll set every bird who drinks here at the pool to keep watching for Foul Fang. And I'm going over to the stump right now to send out word to all the fieldmice.”
“And I'll go back to the Brushpile,” said Nibble, “and listen to the Bad Little Owls when they come to their hole in the morning.”
Off set the rabbit, lipity-lipity, scudding under the brush and over the shadows and through the grasses, until he snuggled down in a nice little pocket where only a mouse could have found him. And about dawn he heard the screech owls.
“It's all fixed,” said the he-owl. “I found Foul Fang, and he knew where Silvertip was because he'd already smelled him (snakes say they smell any one instead of seeing him), and when I squawk the signal he'll rattle and Silvertip will hear it and run. I didn't find Silvertip because he stayed out hunting too long.”
“Fine,” said his wife. “And Tommy's gun is all ready to start in the morning.”