Patty, patty, ka-flip, ka-flip, went Tad’s feet, running away from Louie Thomson’s house for the second time. Pad, pad, pad, pounded Louie Thomson’s feet, running after him. Louie was mad clear through, but he wasn’t mad at Tad Coon. He was angry at his father for trying to beat him with a broom.
All the same, he felt scary and lonely when he got out there in the darkness. He could hear Tad’s feet running down the alleyways between the corn. But the stalks were way up over his head. He couldn’t see where he was going. Pretty soon he couldn’t even hear the coon--he was all alone.
But was he? He stubbed his toe on something--something soft and furry and warm. It was Tad. For just as soon as Tad got over being scared about himself he began to wonder if that cross man with the big stick had done anything awful to poor Louie Thomson. He knew what it was like to be chased. Besides, Tad’s the most curious beast in all the woods and fields, and he had to know the meaning of those little, sad, sniffly noises Louie was making.
But Louie just knew Tad was sorry for him. The poor little boy threw himself on the ground and cried and cried. “It isn’t fair,” he sobbed. “I hoed that corn, I had a right to take just a little weeny bit of it for you. Besides, you earned it. You killed the mice in our cellar just as much as those old cats ever do. I wasn’t bad, and I just won’t take a licking for it.” All the same, he knew that’s what he’d get if he went back home.
Tad kept cocking his ears and touching Louie with his shy little handy-paws, trying to think what he was doing. Little coons cry, too, but they cry, “Wa-wa-wa,” more like a hungry little bird. By and by he got restless and started along.
“Wait for me! Wait for me!” called Louie, and he got up and followed Tad--all the way back to Doctor Muskrat’s pond.
The night was clear and warm. And it wasn’t so very dark, after all. Louie could see quite well. Now it was his turn to be curious about what Tad Coon was doing. A frog jumped in the long grass and Tad pounced on it, just the way he pounced on a mouse. But he didn’t eat it--not yet. He carried it over to the water. Then he began splashing.
“He’s washing it first,” thought Louie. “If that isn’t the beatin-est!”
Sure enough, when he had it washed all clean Tad gulped his frog. Then he paddled his paws and scrubbed his mouth and whiskers. Yes, and even reached up behind his ears.
“Washing looks kind of nice,” thought Louie to himself. So he tried it, too. He washed himself clean as clean--clean as that fat old coon, even. And then he felt so comfortable he curled up by Doctor Muskrat’s stone and fell fast asleep.