He could make out the queer blotchy streaks of white that Stripes was named from. The white tuft was probably the tip of his tail. Oh, yes, he could see that skunk all right enough—but he couldn’t see someone else who was hunting clams right beside Stripes. He could only hear.
“Get out! I’ve taken this hunting ground.” That was a horrid, snarly voice.
“All right. Then I’ll be moving right along.” That was the fat, smily voice of Tad Coon. In the dark you couldn’t see his stripes at all. There was splashing.
“Ah! Wah! Yah! Gr-r-r-yah!” yelped the snarly voice. Then Nibble smelled the awfullest smell you ever imagined—the smell of Stripes when he isn’t pleased.
Nibble’s nose was twitching so fast he had to wipe it on the nice damp earth, just as the little owl wiped her beak on the rough bark of her perch. But he stayed there, squeezed in between the stems of a leafy elder bush, trying to guess what had happened.
Pat-pat, came leisurely footsteps. “Uh-huh,” coughed a voice. Then someone snorted. Nibble’s ears flew up; he knew that sound. Tad Coon was trying to keep from laughing. Pat-pat, went his handy-paws, and then there was a splashing and a scrubbing. Nibble hopped down to the pond, and there was Tad squirming about in the damp sand.
“That you, Nibble?” Tad asked as he heard the soft lip-it, lip-it of Nibble’s furry feet. “Keep to windward. Keep to windward, if you don’t want to strangle, as I’m almost doing.” He was lying on his back and he stopped squirming while he spoke. Nibble could see his limp paws fairly shaking with laughter.
“Whew, I should say so! What happened? Did you have a fight with Stripes?” Nibble asked curiously as he moved around Tad. “You aren’t hurt, are you?”
“Hurt!” snorted Tad. “Of course not. Stripes Skunk won’t fight. He doesn’t have to. He wouldn’t face any one anywhere near his own size—he just turns around so you can’t find anything but the tip of his tail to chew on. And that’s all shaggy, slippery hairs, so you couldn’t possibly get a grip on it, and if you did he knows he could make you let go. He has this scent,” Tad sniffed disgustedly, “and it’s worse than any bite he could give because it shows all your enemies where you are.”
“But Watch was trying to follow Stripes, because he’s the killer of those poor little chicks up at the barn, and he could hardly trail him at all.”