“What happens then?” asked his wife, sleepily, for it was long after sunup.
“That’s the mystery,” he answered in an awed voice. “But Silvertip has disappeared, and Grandpop Snapping Turtle, and you know yourself that Foulfang the Rattlesnake was nothing more than ant food when we found him.”
“Then you aren’t going to help Stripes? He might feed us.”
“I’m not going to help any one but myself. And right now I’ll help myself to one more chicken. I could sleep right through a full moon if I had a full stomach. Stripes is asleep in the oak that blew down in the Terrible Storm. Keep your eye on him. We can take what he leaves without helping him fight that rabbit.” And off he flew, steering very badly with his ragged tail.
But Nibble Rabbit wouldn’t have known who Stripes was, even if he had overheard the little owls.
The bad little Owl comes flipping by.
CHAPTER VIII
HOW NIBBLE TURNED DETECTIVE
The very first thing Nibble did when he got to the barn was to hunt up poor Topknot. He had a hard time finding her. For he had to be very careful himself, I can tell you. He listened and peeked behind every corner, expecting to see the flashing eyes and snarling teeth of the killer no one knew.
That was why the Bad Little Owl didn’t see him when he came flipping by. “What’s he doing out this time of day?” thought Nibble. Then he saw, for the little owl swooped down and staggered off with a furry yellow chick. Its poor head was dangling, and it was such a load that he could scarcely lift it above the bushes, and he steered more crookedly than ever. As he passed a clump of burdock, out dashed Topknot, squawking and screeching, and it was only by sheer luck that he escaped her beak.