“I’m going——â€� Stripes couldn’t think for a minute where he was going. He just wasn’t going to stay in the Woods and Fields now that that bad beast had come. “I’m going with Bobby Robin on the long flight,â€� he said at last. Which was very foolish because he couldn’t begin to run fast enough to keep up with a bird when it was flying. Even Nibble Rabbit can’t. But he humped himself off in a great hurry, so scared that his hair was all bristling.
You know where Killer hid when Louie gave that big noisy yawn? He just slid back into his narrow crack between the two big stones. “I’m safe,â€� he sniffed to himself. “Nobody can get me out of here—not even that foolish dog. This rock is too hard digging for anybody’s toenails.â€� He felt shivery all right enough. Because scary folk aren’t all bad, but, deep down inside them, bad ones are always scary.
In a minute he began to hear his cousin Stripes Skunk asking Watch the Dog where he’d gone to.
He squinted through his crack to see how soon they were going, and what do you think he saw? He saw Louie Thomson. Yes, even if Louie didn’t see him, he saw Louie squirm out from under his blanket tent. First came his tously head; then came his shoulders. “Whoever in all the woods is that?� thought the weasel, and his eyes began to pop.
Killer tried to listen and then he tried to sniff in the direction of Louie Thomson because he just couldn’t believe his eyes. Suddenly Louie scrambled to his feet and stood up. The weasel’s hair stood up, too. Now he understood. “It’s a man!� he hissed, and he ground his teeth in a rage. “That’s what I get for listening to the owl. She knows we’re deadly enemies. Just let me get out of this hole without being seen, and I’ll hustle back to the Deep Woods in two long bounces and a tailflip. But I’ll give that lying little bird a lick with my tongue that won’t smooth her feathers!� He felt so hateful that he tried to grip his own claws into the hard stone.
Louie Thomson washed himself and dug a root, and then he went up to his house to see if his mother had saved him any civilized breakfast. Watch took a good, long lap of water and then he sniffed about. “Wonder where everybody’s gone?â€� he puzzled. “I guess I’ll get some breakfast up at Louie’s house. They’ll be all through long ago at Tommy’s.â€� So off they strolled. And the pond was quieter yet—there wasn’t anybody there at all.
That is, anybody but Killer the Weasel, down in his nice, safe crack. And he didn’t make any noise, either. He’d gone off to sleep. He sleeps in the daytime, anyway, and he slept very soundly because there wasn’t a sound to waken him.
There wasn’t a pat, or a flutter, or a chirp, or a squeak, or even a sneeze, because there wasn’t any one to make them. Not even a fieldmouse! This is what happened: You remember Doctor Muskrat prescribed sumach berries for poor Chaik Jay. He even went over to the Quail’s Thicket and cut down a couple of stalks with his chisel teeth. They’re very nice, though a bit seedy for us—but that’s exactly what the birds like—so he took a taste or two himself while he watched Chaik gulp a fine crawful.
“Well, Chaik,� he said at last, “I guess Nibble Rabbit can look after you now. I’ve got a couple of things back at the pond I must attend to.�
“Don’t go back there,� fluttered Chaik, suddenly remembering. “I overheard the Bad Little Owls, last night, just before I got hurt. They say Killer the Weasel is coming to our Woods and Fields. Whatever will we do about it?�