John Breck

“ Softly he crept through the Clover Patch for fear Glider might be lurking in the long grass, ready to pounce on him. But long before he reached the Brush Pile itself he knew exactly where the wicked snake was. He was right on top of it.
He was right on top of it, and what is more, Bobby Robin was circling about his ugly head to jeer at him. “Yah!” Bobby was shouting, “Heap big hunter, beaten by a bunny! Better go catch frogs in a marsh!”
Now Nibble knew that was a most insulting thing to say. For a frog is so stupid that almost anything can catch him—especially a snake. ”

“ We’re Mallards. We fly faster than the wind. Now I’ll tell you something. This wind is carrying more than ducks. Can’t you smell it?”
Nibble sat up and sniffed very carefully. “It’s queer and dry,” he said, “and it seems to make my fur want to stand on end.”
“Go make yourself a nest, Bunny,” said the duck good-naturedly. “What you smell is a Terrible Storm coming, and it’s coming mighty fast.” He turned back his shining green head to fix the little curly feathers that quirked up over his tail. ”

“ You see the mushrooms make little dance halls for the Fairies to use on Midsummer Eve. They have smooth, velvety grass on the inside with a circle of little cushiony stools around them. And the mice use them after the Fairies are through. Only they use the seats to hide under when Hooter the Owl flits past. They nibble them, too, for refreshments. You can see their toothmarks on every Fairy Ring you find after midsummer.
“I can’t dance,” murmured Nibble. He felt a bit embarrassed. Rabbits do try sometimes out in the brush where they think no one can see them, but they are very clumsy about it. ”

“ Nibble’s feet just bounced of themselves, and Bobby’s wings beat, and Glider’s ugly head landed right between them. For Glider hears everything that goes on along the ground. He had heard Nibble stamping to call his mother. If Mammy Rabbit had answered Glider would never have come. But she didn’t—so Glider did. And now lonely little Nibble Rabbit was racing off and Glider was after him, simply boiling over with rage, as fast as he could put tail to the ground. He didn’t think Nibble could run so very far. ”

“ If Glider ever makes any one look him straight in the eye they never get away from him.” He said it in a scared voice and Nibble could see that was exactly what Glider was trying to do.
Suddenly he felt himself crouch back against the log again, ears tucked between his shoulders, whiskers twitching with the smell of fox in his nostrils. His muscles did these things of themselves before he really knew that Silvertip was standing at his very elbow. He had followed Nibble’s footsteps to the end of the trail right past the perch to where Nibble had jumped back. ”

“ When the Woodsfolk see a man they don’t stop to look at him; they run and hide. And Nibble had never even got a glimpse of one yet. Neither had the bats. But the sleepy bat just kept on insisting, “He’s neither Fish, Bird, nor Beast, if he hasn’t a tail.”
“Then what is he?” demanded Chatter. He thought he had asked something the bat couldn’t answer.
“What does he wear?” said the bat.
And now it was Chatter who didn’t know what to say. For a Man doesn’t wear scales or feathers or fur. ”

“ For three days and three nights Nibble Rabbit’s storm party stayed in the little Cornstalk tent in the middle of the Broad Field. The Terrible Storm might behave as badly as it pleased but they were having too good a time to care. And it might yowl as loudly as it could but they were making too much noise to listen. For they knew that no one was going to interrupt them.
When nobody could eat any more they began to amuse themselves. First of all they had a dance. The three partridges could drum with their wings and Nibble with his feet, for they learned it from the Indians. ”

“ And the bat nodded as though he knew it all the time.
“All right,” agreed Chatter cheerfully. “But how about Man?”
“Man?” shouted Nibble and the mice and the partridge all together. For this was news! ”

“ Chatter retorted in a rage. “You and your ducks! You’ll stand there trying to mind my business for me until Silvertip catches you.” But there’s no way of knowing how much angrier Chatter might have been because right then something did happen. He gave one shriek—“Hooter!”—and made a flying leap for that hollow Oak Tree. And Mrs. Hooter clapped her beak at the hole.
“Stickly Prickles!” said Nibble to himself—that really isn’t swearing. “What are those owls doing out this time of the day?” For he could see Hooter flapping sleepily along behind his mate. It was too early in the day for him. ”

“ She couldn’t sit comfortably on a tree-trunk without it.”
“A tail,” squeaked the bats who hadn’t been heard from since they hung themselves up from the roof, “a tail is the handiest pocket in the world. You use it for flies in summer and to warm your paws in winter. Do have one.”
“I do use mine,” said Nibble laughing, “but not for any of the reasons you give. I flash mine so any rabbit behind me can tell whether it’s safe to follow me. Why, my mother never bothered to talk as long as she knew I could see her tail.” ”

“ And we’ll keep on going until it stops.”
“What will it do if it catches you?” demanded Nibble, opening his eyes very wide.
“It’ll throw snow all over us so we can’t see our way to fly,” answered the lady duck. “It’ll cover up all the water with ice so we can’t feed. When it’s very had we can’t even find a hole big enough to thaw our feet in. Ugh! I hate to fly so fast. We ought to have come three days ago. I knew what it was the first day when it snarled at the wind. It wasn’t afraid!”
“Afraid?” Nibble sat up and wiggled his ears at the idea. “Are storms ever afraid.” ”

“ And he began to scrub his face and polish off his ears with his little soft forepaws.
“Going to look where?” asked Bobby Robin.
“Oh, lots of places—the Clover Patch, and the Brush Pile, and the Broad Field. But first I’m going to see if there’s any fur under Hooter’s tree.”
“What?” squawked Bobby. He came tumbling down to the ground where he could make Nibble look him straight in the eye and listen to an awful lecture.
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” he said. “Now that you have to see and hear and smell and feel for yourself you will have to be twice as careful as you ever were before. ”

“ Somebody might have noticed easily enough for Bobby and Glider were making such a terrible racket that every one was coming to listen to them. The grasses were full of mice and the bushes were full of sparrows who all hated the snake. Even Chatter Squirrel, who doesn’t get on with Bobby any too well himself, came leaping across his pathway among the branches.
Bobby and Glider were making such a racket that everyone was coming to listen to them
“Snail eater, snail eater!” ”

“ Don’t you know better than to tell Killer Weasel and Silvertip the Fox, and Hooter the Owl, and any one else who wants to know where they’ll find a nice young rabbit for breakfast.”
But the tears ran faster than ever down Nibble’s whiskers. “It’s Hooter,” he sniffed. “He caught her when she went down to the brook for a drink. I know he did. She’d never leave me.”
“Nonsense,” said Bobby, and he said it peckishly, for no one likes to hear a little rabbit cry. “I know your mother, and she knows the law of the woods. You can fly—run, I mean—can’t you. And feed yourself?” ”

“ Is this the end of the world?”
“No,” said Nibble, and he nearly laughed because Chatter was so funny when he was afraid. “It’s only the end of the Big Oak. I have a place to sleep and plenty of food. Come along.”
“Me too,” called Gimlet the Little Downy Woodpecker who lived in a branch of the tree. “Us too,” chorused all the little field-mice who had burrowed in its roots. And “Us, too,” piped three partridges who had been snuggled in the bushes beside it. ”

“ But the cows didn’t make much use of their horns after they did get them, because they are so stupid.
“They say Mother Nature was sorrier over the wickedness of the wolves than over any of the rest because she trusted them more than most,” he went on. “You see, they were her own beasts, not like the weasel who came up from under the earth and was wicked from the very first.”
“Were lots of others bad, too?” demanded Nibble. “Bad things are always interesting, you know.
“Oh, yes. Even some of the birds.” Chirp said this as though it were the most wicked thing in the world for a bird to be bad. ”

“ We’ve always been as good as good, no matter how much trouble we have with the hawks and the owls. We eat some seeds, but not all, and the bugs. Bugs come from under the earth, you know, and the plants hate them. But we didn’t have to ask for horns or claws to take care of ourselves—that’s because we’re so clever.” And he spread his lively little wings, with brown edges to every feather, and squinted conceitedly at them over his shoulder.
“And the mice?” added Nibble. He didn’t want birds to have all the credit.
“Mice, indeed!” chirped the sparrow, quite sharply. “Mice! ”

“ That tail sent Nibble spinning. Luckily he landed right side up and went bouncing off faster than when Glider was chasing him. But Silvertip didn’t see him. Silvertip was too busy on his own account.
For that cow wasn’t the sleepy and serious kind. She was young and active. But Silvertip, coming along with his nose to the ground, didn’t see her.
She lowered her horns and rolled her eyes around, pawing footfuls of snow about her shoulders. “Wolf!” she suddenly bellowed and ran at him.
Nibble Rabbit thought his end had come. But his feet didn’t think at all; they just ran. ”

“ If you lay back your ears and shorten your tail we’ll never stop you. We’ll shelter you from the summer sun and the winter wind. We’ll warn you of your enemies and bar your path behind you. We’ll serve you as long as you let us.’
“And just then my great-grandfather thought he could hear the Weasel very close, so he cried despairingly. ‘I’ll choose the Pickery Things.’ Down dropped his ears, up shrunk his tail, and away he ran. But we’ve never been sorry. The Pickery Things have kept their word.”
“Dear me, how interesting!” said the lady mouse when Nibble Rabbit had finished. ”

“ For Nibble’s ears had stood straight up right through his story, and all the other sparrows on the haystack were saying, “Hush, hush!” so he would go on again.
“My beak!” Chirp exclaimed. “I’ve told you how winter came to be, because the sun and the wind and the rain didn’t behave while Mother Nature left this half of the earth to go down and start the other half. I’ve told you how the good stupid cows starved because the plants wouldn’t be eaten, and how the bad clever wolves took to eating the cows. ”

“ Look at your feet, Nibble. You didn’t leave any scent after you got your little mud boots.”
Nibble held up one forepaw and looked at it. Then he put out a hind one and looked at that, too. Sure enough the sticky mud of the Broad Field had matted into his fur so that he was wearing a fine little set of boots that came half way to his knees. He looked down the row of slippy, slidy tracks he had made. “There’s where I got them,” he said. “I should think Glider would see where I’d gone.”
“Glider!” laughed Bobby scornfully. “Why, Glider’s too blind and stupid to see anything. ”

“ Sooner or later it breaks into a rage and begins to thrash around. When a storm really loses its temper the next sensible wind can smash it into bits. It never pays to lose your temper. Something always happens if you do.”
Nibble was very much excited. But he wasn’t too excited to think of a good place to hide. There was that nice little tent made by a leaning shock of corn out in the Broad Field. As he passed the Brushpile, Chatter Squirrel was darting up a hickory tree with a mouthful of leaves. ”

“ Sure enough, Nibble could see the red heifer with her swishy tail stuck straight up in the air, waving the tasselly tip of it, leaping and mooing and snorting at the other end of the field.
“I thought that was a queer log,” he said thoughtfully. “It made my toes all warm and there wasn’t any snow on top of it. But it had such a nice safe, warm-hole sort of a smell, with little clovery whiffs mixed in with it. Cows must be awfully dangerous!”
“Dangerous!” hooted Chirp. “A cow dangerous! ”

“ Still, the grass tasted very sweet where the cows had scraped off the snow for him. Pretty soon he said to himself: “I guess I’d better be thinking about getting back to the Woods again. I’ll be safer if I can reach the Clover Patch without meeting—”
And he stopped right on that word. For there, following his trail, was the very beast he was thinking of—Silvertip! And Silvertip doesn’t have to see any one to follow him!
“There’s only one thing for me to do,” thought the Bunny. “I’ll make a new triangle and end up on that big Brown Log over there.” So he did. ”

“ After that they never forget it. But we don’t like to let them eat. Singing is unlucky for a mouse. But dancing is so delightful.”
“It looks so,” said Nibble soberly, “but no rabbit can dance until he grows a tail.” ”

“ Nibble felt a bit flustered because he does it, too, and so does Doctor Muskrat. But then the quail and the sleek brown thrasher are just as bad, so he didn’t try to say anything. Fortunately Chirp went right on talking.
“The wickedest creature of all,” he said, “is Ouphe the Rat. He’s so horrid and dirty and disgusting that he eats even his own kind. He’s a cannibal! Everything hates him, whether it wears feathers or fur or scales—even the stupid cow. And he hates everything. He comes sneaking and creeping just when you least expect him, and—”
“Cheep!” ”

“ And the bat nodded away more conceitedly than ever. And nothing the others could say made any difference.
“But he’s not green,” objected Chatter. “And he doesn’t hop. He’s ever so much bigger, and he’s tan, like your vest, Nibble, or pink, like the inside of your mouth.” Chatter had seen the little boys at the swimming-hole and some of them must have been sunburned.
“Now isn’t that queer,” remarked a partridge. “The one we saw seemed all brown and wrinkly and shelly, like Grandpop Snappingturtle. And he made a noise like a Summer Storm.” She meant a man in a shooting-coat who fired a gun. ”