“i wonder why all the tame beasts have work to do or milk to give or eggs or whatever it happens to be?” nibble rabbit remarked. “we don’t what’s our job, doctor muskrat? trailer says a beast without a job isn’t worth feeding.”
“that’s just the point.” the doctor’s bright eyes were twinkling. “you silly rabbit! do you think trailer would be so nice and obedient to watch and tommy if he didn’t know the people up at the house would feed him? if he had to catch his breakfast or go hungry there wouldn’t be any bunny. he licked his lips every time he sniffed you. but so long as he does what he’s told, tommy’ll feed him. we feed ourselves.”
“i see.” nibble flicked his tail thoughtfully. “and we find our own holes and take care of ourselves and we like doing it.”
“do we, indeed?” said a whiny, complainy voice from the bulrushes on the bank. “is that dog gone?” it was tad coon. he came splashing out of the water and flopped down in the sun. then he got very busy with his funny little paws. the front ones were handy ones, but the hind feet made a print like a baby’s would except that there was a little round hole, where the claw pricked, in front of every toe. he would wipe them in his warm fur and lick them, one by one, with his warm tongue. nibble couldn’t think what he was doing.
“there,” he said at last, not quite so crossly. “i can feel with them. the water’s awfully cold. and i had to stand in it all the time you beasts were talking. that hound is my very worst enemy—i can’t yet see for the life of me why he didn’t make a snap at nibble rabbit.”
“because i belong to tommy peele,” nibble explained. “why don’t you make friends with him?”
“huh!” grunted tad, crosser than ever. “do you s’pose those dogs would let me? never!”
you know nibble rabbit. first he’s scared and next he’s curious. that’s why he has such a very good time—he’s always finding out about new things. but you don’t know tad coon—not yet. there’s this about tad coon. first, he’s very, very unhappy and then suddenly he’s got a lovely joke on someone.
he was very unhappy on this particular morning, though he was spread out very comfortably in the warm sun where trailer had lain. still he kept on complaining.
“it isn’t any trouble to you fellows to find a hole,” he was saying. “a nice spot to dig and there you are. but i live in trees, and not every tree in the woods has a big enough hollow for me to hide in. i used to sleep in that big oak—it went and blew down in the terrible storm” (he said this exactly as though the poor old oak did it on purpose), “and i had another that the wood-duck nested in. silvertip the fox spoiled the nest and he didn’t leave me a single egg, either. and i had the nicest of all in a great big elm; now there’s a cross old mother coon with four young ones in it. i haven’t any place to go-o-o!”
“that’s too bad,” said doctor muskrat, edging nearer the water because tad coon’s temper isn’t very good.
“get a square meal and then you won’t want to sit there squalling like a blind kitten.” and in he dove.
tad coon didn’t dive after him. he didn’t even get angry. he just went on wailing, “i haven’t eaten anything but frogs all spring and i’m so sick of them i can’t bear the sight of them.”
“try fish, then,” advised doctor muskrat, from the pond.
tad coon stopped whimpering. he looked at doctor muskrat, and then he looked at nibble rabbit. “i believe i will,” he said. and he looked at nibble again. then he walked out on the flat stone that used to be doctor muskrat’s.
“don’t go in there,” warned nibble. “that’s right where grandpop snapping turtle just caught silvertip the fox.”
“i know that,” answered tad. “i don’t dive; i go fishing. i take my tail—” and he did it—“like this. and i tickle the water—like this. and when a fish comes up, thinking it’s a fly just dropped in the water, i reach out my paw and catch him. move around behind me, so you won’t cast a shadow. i must see what i’m doing.”
so nibble moved around where tad told him to and craned his neck. this looked interesting.
swish, swish, swish, went tad coon’s bushy tail. he cocked his head. swish—out went his hand—splash, went a great big wave all over nibble rabbit.
“ugh! snff-snff-choo-a-a-ka-choo!” he sneezed. he stamped his feet angrily.
tad looked over his shoulder and then went back to his fishing as though he didn’t know what he had done, but nibble could hear him snort as he tried to choke down his laughter, and his fur was shaking.
tad was sitting right over the place where grandpop snapping turtle had caught silvertip the fox. tad knew perfectly well he was there, but it would take something smarter than a loggy old turtle to catch tad coon. besides, he knew, too, that grandpop snapping turtle wouldn’t pay attention to anything else until silvertip was all eaten up. so he sat there flicking the water with the tip-end of his tail, pretending he was fooling the fish into thinking it was a fly alighting. he was trying to think up another trick to play.
but there was one thing tad didn’t know. he didn’t know what doctor muskrat was doing. doctor muskrat was paddling around in the pond, diving now and then as though he were fishing—and so he was, fishing up trouble for tad coon. the first time he came up to find out the meaning of tad’s splash he sniffed. and it wasn’t to blow the water out of his nose—it was to make nibble look at him. nibble did look. and doctor muskrat closed both of his eyes in a big wink. after that you can be pretty sure nibble kept his eyes on that playful tail of tad coon.
flick! it went. swish! for tad wasn’t thinking what he was doing. he had an idea for another joke. “pop!” up comes the ugly head of grandpop snapping turtle, his beady eyes peering, his hissy mouth open. snap! it went on the end of that playful tail. jerk! and tad coon was bouncing up the bank, his fluffy breeches sticking straight out with fright. and when grandpop snapping turtle’s ugly head sank back it was wearing whiskers—whiskers which used to belong to the very last tip-end of that smarty coon’s tail.
and then didn’t doctor muskrat and nibble rabbit have their turn to chuckle! nibble laughed till he stamped, only this time he wasn’t the one who was angry. and doctor muskrat paddled away round and came up on the bank beside him.
“what made grandpop snapping turtle wake up?” asked nibble.
“mussel shells,” giggled the wise muskrat. “you know bobby robin’s story about the babes in the woods that the robins covered with leaves? that’s just what i’ve been doing to silvertip. only leaves don’t sink, so i used empty mussel shells. i’ve shied them down at him until grandpop snapping turtle couldn’t take a bite without getting his beak into one of them. he thinks tad coon did it.”
“he-he!” snickered nibble rabbit. “and tad coon blames it all right back on him!”
