CHAPTER IV
DARK HOURS IN LOUIE THOMSON’S PRISON
Louie Thomson! Yes, Louie Thomson was the boy who caught Nibble Rabbit’s runaway bunny baby. Just exactly what everyone was afraid of! For Louie Thomson wasn’t good and kind, like Tommy Peele. He did more awful things to the Wild Things than even Killer the Weasel, and they were terribly scared of him. Every last one of them was scared, excepting--excepting Nibble’s runaway bunny.
She didn’t know enough to be scared. She was just contrary. She wouldn’t believe that scrouching down in a little hollow like a hop-toad is the surest way to get caught. She would be afraid of a nice, toothless old hop-toad, who wouldn’t hurt anybody and she wouldn’t be afraid of cruel Louie Thomson, who hurt everybody excepting--excepting Nibble’s runaway bunny.
“Good morning, Hop-toad,” said Nibble. “This is my family.”
I told you the only way the Wild Things could be safe was to stay wild and be very careful. That’s because most of their wild enemies are the Things-from-under-the-Earth who came especially and particularly to eat them. But men are different. Deep down inside him every man knows that he’s just their big brother. He can half-remember the time when he used to live with them, before he quarrelled with Mother Nature.
Well, that wee bunny wasn’t a bit afraid of Louie Thomson; that’s just why she was safe with him. His hand was soft and warm, like Tommy Peele’s; when she cuddled down inside it he half-remembered what it was like in the First-Off Beginning of Things, when little boys and little bunnies played together. He didn’t want to hurt her. He said: “You cunning little thing, I’m going to take you home and show that smarty Tommy Peele he isn’t the only fellow who has pets. I guess I can tame you.” But he wasn’t any too sure. He had one pet already that he couldn’t tame.
Catching pets is one thing; taming them is another. You have to make them happy. And Louie hadn’t the least idea in the world how to do that. He took little bunny out of the clean, windy air and the warm sun and he put her in a smelly, dark cellar. He gave her some grass, but it was all tops and she was too little to eat anything but the tender white stems. He didn’t think to give her a drink of water. She was shivery cold and there wasn’t any mother to snuggle against. She was thirsty and there wasn’t any mother to give her a drink. She was lonely and there wasn’t any mother to comfort her. Poor bunny baby. She just sat in a miserable little heap and squalled, “Mammy, mammy, mammy!” exactly the way Nibble did when he lost his mother.
Suddenly a growly voice spoke up: “For sunlight’s sake, hush up, Bunny! She can’t possibly hear you. And I’m listening for something.”
That scared her quiet. Pretty soon the growly voice spoke up again, “Who are you, anyway?”