“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. You may remember all the things your mother taught you—now you’ll have to do them. And she took all that trouble with you so you could be a sensible, clever rabbit and keep out of danger, not so you’d run right off the minute she left you and offer Hooter a free meal.” Bobby was so worried about Nibble he forgot that the ground was no place for a sensible bird.
“But I must know if Hooter caught her,” pleaded Nibble, “and I will be careful.” He sat up and sniffed all around with his nice clean nose that had been all swollen from crying when Bobby Robin found him. And he pricked up his tidy ears, just to show how careful he meant to be. And he heard a soft little noise behind him. It wasn’t two grass stalks rubbing together, though it was as tiny as that. It was the scraping Glider the Blacksnake makes when he slips across a stone!
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. He was sure he would catch him.
For a minute Nibble thought so too. Scared! Nibble Rabbit was too scared to think. He just ran. Every jump he made was longer and higher than the one before until he was sailing over the tops of the tallest grasses. My, but he wanted his mammy—that was because he was so dreadfully scared. Then he wanted a place to hide. Presently he remembered the Brush Pile. He turned toward it and he didn’t even hide his trail the way he had been taught—that’s how scared he was.
But just as he reached it he remembered something his mother had told him, which was just what she hoped he would do. “If the thing that chases you wears feathers take to a hole. If it wears fur don’t put your nose into any hole that hasn’t another end. If it wears scales keep to the open and run as fast and as far as you can.” And scales are exactly what Glider wears.
Now he knew exactly what to do, and he wasn’t quite as scared. He just bounced up on the Brush Pile and kept on going until he bounced off again on the other side. He raced through the Clover Patch and down the Broad Field between the shocks of corn. The field was all muddy from the rain and his feet slipped and slid and his little heart went bump, bump, against his sides, as though some one were hitting him. He wasn’t even frightened any more—he was too tired. But he kept on.
Then he heard a voice calling him: “Nibble, Nibble, wait!” It was no hissy voice of a snake. It was Bobby Robin.
So he turned into one of the nice little tents made by the shocks of corn. And Bobby had to catch his breath before he could talk. “You’re safe,” he gasped. “You lost Glider way back there. I asked you if you could fly. You can. You fly faster than a thistledown in a north wind.” And Nibble twitched his nose into a pleased smile, while Bobby stopped to fan himself with his wings. “Glider couldn’t see you bounce oft on the other side of the Brush Pile,” he explained when he got his breath, “because his head is so near the ground.”