Tommy had on his blue sweater, but he’d left his red mittens hanging back of the stove because he’d got them all wet snowballing. And Watch was dancing along in front of him singing “Aourgh! aorugh!” which is neither a mating song nor a proper hunting song. It was like Tommy’s whistle—it showed that he was perfectly happy.
But Nibble wasn’t. He was awfully uncomfortable. For all the footprints of those foolish young beasts led straight to the warm spring, which was still the only open water, though the ice was soft and melting all over the pond. And you remember this was the wise old doctor’s front door.
Of course Tommy followed them right there. And Nibble crouched into a clump of bulrushes close behind him—close enough to hear him working over something; close enough to hear Watch saying in an excited tone, “It’s all right! I can smell ’em—lots of ’em!”
Nibble was so worried he nearly squirmed. He wanted to get out to the little round house in the middle of the pond and warn Doctor Muskrat. The minute Tommy’s back was turned he started to creep over the crumbly ice toward it. But Watch’s back wasn’t turned. He bounced out after Nibble. And he bounced right through the ice. And the minute Doctor Muskrat heard that splashing and thrashing right in his front pond, out he popped. “Clang!” That ugly trap had him by the paw!
“Oh-h-h! Oow-w-w!” screamed the poor old doctor. But he didn’t lose his head entirely. “Quick, Nibble,” he begged, “bite off my toes before that dog gets here! I can’t reach them.” His own poor old teeth were chattering with fear and pain.
And that’s exactly what Nibble was trying to do when Watch floundered out of the water. “Aourgh! I’ve got you!” he barked joyfully. Then he stopped short and wagged his tail in the friendliest way. “Why, you’re Tommy’s rabbit!” he said. And he tried to explain to Tommy Peele.
But Tommy wouldn’t listen. He couldn’t think of anything but that poor old beast, squealing over his hurt paw. It made Tommy’s own throat hurt to hear him. He wanted to help, but the doctor couldn’t understand. He just gnashed his teeth and snapped at Tommy. Then Tommy managed to touch the spring of the trap with his toe. He stepped, and it yawned open—just for an instant. Away went Doctor Muskrat.
But Nibble wasn’t looking. He had leaped back into his hiding place in the reeds and closed his eyes.
He wished he could close his long ears as well. He expected to hear his good old friend squeal when Tommy killed him. But all he heard was a splash.
Then Watch the Dog said, “I told you you’d be glad you were Tommy Peele’s rabbit!” He was standing close beside Nibble and he was looking over his shoulder to give an affectionate wag of his tail toward Tommy Peele. Nibble looked, too. And there was Tommy unfastening his trap from where he had tied it to a reed clump so it couldn’t be dragged away. But there was no sign of any muskrat.