Nibble shook to the tips of his furry little toes when he heard it. Once he tried to poke his nose out, just a tiny bit, to see what was happening, but the Terrible Storm tweaked his whiskers and threw snow into his eyes. So he backed in again and listened to the trees shouting to each other. “Oh! Oh! I’m cracking! Hold me! Please, please—I’m going to fall!”
Pretty soon he heard a terrible groan with a crash at the end of it. And then he heard a little sound wailing above the wind and the trees. It was calling for help. It was Chatter Squirrel! Then he knew it was the Big Oak who stood alone by the Clover Patch that had blown down.
Suddenly Nibble found he wasn’t scared of that bully of a Storm. That is, not so very, very scared. Not too scared to crawl out of his tent, digging his little toes into the ground to keep from blowing away, his nose close down in the grasses, his eyes half closed to keep out the snow and look for poor Chatter. He called once or twice, but he was very close before Chatter could hear.
“Where am I?” he sobbed. “Oh, my nest is all smashed and I don’t know where I am. 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. Even two little bats who had lived in the tall dark cave of its hollow trunk came scuttling and crawling, holding on tight to whatever fur they could touch.
Every one came but Cheewee the Chickadee who said he would do very nicely where he was, although his nest, an old woodpecker hole, was all queer and upside down.
They scuttled along together, traveling fast because now the wind was pushing them from behind. And the snow drove under their feathers and fur until it stung their very skins and nipped the ends of Nibble’s blowy ears, but he kept saying, “I’m going to have a party! I’m going to have a party!” so pleased and happy that every one was trying to smile by the time they reached his little cornstalk house.
The Terrible Storm had tried to knock that down, but only spread it out so there was more room in it than ever. And the snow had tried to smother it, but had only succeeded in stopping up the cracks so that it was snug and warm. And the bats hung themselves upside down from the middle of it and turned down their little webby tails over their toes like the flap of an envelope and went to sleep again.