Poor Nimble didn't know what to do. He felt that he ought to go for help, somewhere. But he had promised Cuffy Bear to wait for him.
Then all at once an idea came to him. Why not send Peter Mink for help?
"Won't you please go down to Cedar Swamp and ask Fatty Coon to come up here?" Nimble begged Peter.
"I can't," Peter answered. "I must go home now." And everybody knew that Peter Mink had no home at all! He was the vagabond of the woods.
Nimble saw then that it was useless to look for help from him. And after Peter Mink had gone his surly way Nimble still lingered there. He was hungry. So he began to paw the snow away here and there, to uncover the ground growths. And just as he was nibbling beside a bush somebody said, "Don't step on me!"
It was Mr. Grouse, half buried in the snow.
"I wondered why you were waiting here so long," Mr. Grouse told Nimble. "When I heard you talking to that rascal, Peter Mink, I knew the reason. But I didn't dare speak while he was about."
"Are you going to spend the night here?" Nimble asked him.
"Yes!" said Mr. Grouse. "I shall be snug and warm after the snow covers me."
"Well, your head won't be covered for some time," Nimble told him. "Are you willing to keep an eye out for Cuffy Bear? I'm going down to Cedar Swamp to get help. And Cuffy Bear might come out of the cave while I'm gone."