Now Tommy was angry enough about those chicks of Topknot the Hen’s, but he was angrier yet because Watch wouldn’t obey him. “You’re a bad, bad dog!” he scolded. “I’m going right over to get Trailer. He isn’t afraid.” And you know Trailer the Hound, who belonged to Tommy’s big cousin Sandy, was Tad Coon’s worst enemy.
“There!” Watch exclaimed. “You see you’d better keep away. Trailer won’t make any compact with you, and he wouldn’t even listen if I tried to explain how your tracks came to be there, but if you don’t leave any he’ll tell Tommy so the same way I’ve been trying to.” And Watch galloped off to catch up with the cross little boy.
But Tommy wouldn’t forgive him no matter how much Watch begged and explained. Only when he passed the place where the dead chicks had lain he cried, “Why, they aren’t all here! That killer must have come back after them.” He saw Watch sniff them just as carefully as he had sniffed Tad Coon down by the pond. And he knew just where Tad Coon had been every minute of the time. Tad didn’t take them. So now he understood. “All right, Watch. Good dog,” he said. “It wasn’t the coon. Then who was it? S-s-sic him!”
And maybe you think that didn’t make Watch happy!
If Nibble hadn’t been in such a hurry to get up to the barn and see Topknot’s little dead chicks he might have found who really killed them all the sooner. But here was a new killer whom no one had ever seen, so no one knew how to hide from him or where to expect him. No wonder Nibble was too excited to think of listening at the Brushpile for the Bad Little Owls.
Just about the time he went slipping down the fence row under the safe pickers of the blackberry canes they were having their first full meal since Chaik and his family mauled them for trying to help Silvertip. Chaik had pulled out so many feathers that they couldn’t hunt well. And now they had swallowed one of those fuzzy little chickens, fluff, legs, and all, because they were so hungry.
“My, but that chick tasted good,” said the Lady Owl. “Do you know, when Stripes came waddling by this morning and bragged about what he’d done, I didn’t believe him. I don’t see why he didn’t eat every last one of them instead of leaving them for us.”
“He didn’t leave them for us at all,” snapped the he owl. “And don’t you ever tell him we took one, either. He just killed them and laid them out in a neat row so it would look like one of Tad Coon’s tricks. Then that boy would think it was the coon and make all sorts of trouble for him.”
“Why doesn’t Stripes like Tad Coon?” said his mate thoughtfully.
“He’s jealous because Tad has a compact with that shaggy dog so it won’t chase him, and he’s mad because it’s getting to such a pass in the woods and fields that you hardly dare rob a nest for fear that rabbit will tell on you.”