Pretty soon Nibble put up his head. “It’s the whippoorwill,” he whispered, flashing a signal to the bird. “He’s got news of Silvertip! Do you suppose they’ve caught him?” He was so excited that he squirmed inside his furry skin.
“We’ll know in a minute,” said Doctor Muskrat, as the whippoorwill dropped quietly to the ground.
But he fluttered in surprise when he saw the doctor. “Great beetles!” he exclaimed. “I just saw your nose poking out of the water by the flat stone.”
“Not his,” said Nibble. “We can’t go there, because the Bad Little Owls who help Silvertip are watching it.”
“Yes,” put in the doctor, “and so is Grandpop Snapping Turtle, who helps himself.”
“O—ho!” said the whippoorwill. “I thought it was you, hiding from the little owls. They’re in the Quail’s Thicket.”
“And Silvertip?” asked Nibble.
“Silvertip’s too clever for those dogs. He’s got away,” said the whippoorwill, sadly. “I know just how you feel. It’s awful to know he’s always after you. But you did me a good turn when you found that rattlesnake and showed it to Tommy Peele. And Tommy did me a good turn when he shot it. I’ll help you all I can. Only when a fox is smart enough to run along the top of a fence to hide his trail, what dog will ever catch him?”
“There’s just one thing sure,” said Doctor Muskrat, “he’ll catch himself with his own cleverness one of these days.”
“Listen!” breathed the whippoorwill. “He’s come back to the brook on his own trail. Now he’s walking in the water to hide his footsteps while he crosses to the Quail’s Thicket to see if the little owls have found Nibble. Isn’t that smart?”