“What did it?” gasped Nibble.
“You silly rabbit,” chuckled Doctor Muskrat. “That ‘bang!’ was a gun.”
“Oh,” and Nibble sat up to think. “The partridge did say Man could make more noise than a summer storm. He certainly can!”
“Why, Nibble!” teased Doctor Muskrat, his shiny little eyes twinkling, “didn’t you ever hear a gun? Every other creature in all the Woods and Fields has been waiting for that noise to celebrate the death of Silvertip the Fox. That was what Tommy Peele brought out here to kill him.”
“Did it?” demanded Nibble Rabbit. He knew that it pretty nearly stunned one small and scary rabbit he could tell about.
“Not if it bit Foul Fang in three pieces,” answered the wise old doctor. “That takes two bites, one for each noise. Silvertip isn’t bitten yet.” “Shot” was what he meant, but the Woodsfolk don’t use that word.
“How do you know he isn’t bitten?” squealed Chewee the Chickadee. He was twirling and tumbling about the bulrushes because he was too happy and excited to keep still. “He jumped right out under the nose of Trailer, that hound Tommy Peele brought to help his own dog Watch. And the last I saw he was just about two steps ahead of Trailer’s jaws.”
“Ssh!” warned Doctor Muskrat, and he cocked his ears. Far, far away they could hear Trailer calling, “Where, where?” And Watch answered: “Isn’t this fox?” and Tommy Peele’s cousin was shouting: “Hie out, Trailer! Find him!”
“You see,” said the doctor, “Silvertip’s saved his skin this time. But we’ll find him again.”
He was right. Late in the afternoon Tommy came trudging along with his head down, too unhappy to listen to the “Thank you” the meadowlarks were singing, and the one Chewee brought from the partridge. For every creature that lived or nested on the ground was more than grateful to be rid of Foul Fang. Tommy’s big cousin Sandy was carrying his gun, and his dog Trailer was so tired he could scarcely crawl. Watch was tired and sheepish besides. He came down for a drink and whispered: “See where Silvertip sleeps. We’ll be out again to-morrow.”