The Tale of Grumpy Weasel Part 10

Another reason why Tommy had laughed at Grumpy's bl.u.s.tering was that the stranger was quite able to take care of himself in a fight. He belonged to the Snowy Owl family, being bigger, even, than Solomon Owl. And what with his hooked beak and his strong talons he was a dangerous fellow to meet. Although Grumpy Weasel could easily handle a rabbit or a wild duck a dozen times his own size, because they were unarmed, he would have had no chance at all with Mr. Snowy Owl.

All this made Tommy Fox chuckle and grin, as he left Grumpy and loped off towards Cedar Swamp, where Mr. Snowy Owl was spending the winter.

Unlike Solomon Owl, and his cousin Simon Screecher, Mr. Snowy Owl did not turn night into day. So Tommy Fox found him wide awake and ready for a fight or a frolic, whichever might come his way.

He was a handsome bird--this newcomer--in his showy white suit, spotted with black. And he gave Tommy Fox a bold, hard look, acting for all the world as if he had spent his whole life in Pleasant Valley, instead of merely two short weeks.

Now, Mr. Snowy Owl knew a good deal about such rascals as Tommy Fox. So he said at once, "What's on your mind, young man? You've come here on mischief and you needn't deny it."

Well, Tommy Fox saw that he couldn't deceive Mr. Owl very much. So he grinned at him and told him about the talk he had just had with Grumpy Weasel.

"He's so eager to meet you it would be too bad to disappoint him," Tommy observed. "He wants the fur to fly, you know."

Although he had no ears (at least, so far as could be seen) Mr. Snowy Owl had listened closely to Tommy Fox's story. And he must have heard plainly enough, for he said quickly that he would call on Grumpy Weasel that very day. "I'll start right now," he said, "and I'll reach Grumpy Weasel's hunting ground before you're out of the swamp."

"I wish you'd wait a bit, till I can get there myself," Tommy Fox told him.

Mr. Snowy Owl agreed to that. And after lingering until he thought Tommy must have had time to run and find Grumpy Weasel he rose above the tops of the cedars and sailed off to join them himself.

"I'm glad I came here to spend the winter," he muttered. "Everybody's been very pleasant so far. And after people hear how I've settled with this Weasel person the folks in Pleasant Valley will be pretty polite to me, or I'll know the reason why."

XXIV

FUR AND FEATHERS

To find Grumpy Weasel, Tommy Fox went straight back to the place where he had left him. It was easy, then, to follow his queer tracks. Grumpy's legs were so short that they did not lift his lean body clear of the deep snow, except when he jumped very high; so his trail looked somewhat like that of a snake with legs.

As soon as Tommy overtook him he asked Grumpy if he had seen the stranger yet, who was dressed all in white and black, like him.

"No, I haven't. But I'm on the lookout for him all the time," said Grumpy.

"Where are you looking?" Tommy inquired.

"Oh! Everywhere!" Grumpy replied. "Behind the trees and in the bushes and back of the stone wall!"

"Have you seen any new tracks?" Tommy persisted.

"Not one!" Grumpy admitted. And then he thought he caught the flicker of a smile on Tommy Fox's narrow face. "If there is no such person--if you've been deceiving me----" he began angrily.

"I promise you that there _is_ such a stranger in the neighborhood!"

Tommy cried. "And if you don't meet him to-day I'll be as disappointed as you."

"It seems to me," Grumpy Weasel snapped, "you're altogether too anxious over this business. Everybody knows you're tricky. And I begin to think you're trying to get me into trouble."

It was wonderful, the way Tommy Fox could keep his temper. No matter what people said to him he could still smile if it would help him to have his way. And now he kept up a never-ending chatter, without saying anything in particular.

The snow was deep enough to have covered such hiding places as Grumpy Weasel liked. The stone wall, indeed, offered about the only crannies; and that was some distance away. Tommy Fox had noticed that. And that was why he was trying to keep Grumpy Weasel where he was. For Tommy expected Mr. Snowy Owl at any moment.

"You are talking foolishness," Grumpy told Tommy Fox at last. "I don't care to waste my time listening to you." And he turned away.

"One moment, please!" Tommy begged, for the sly rascal had just caught a glimpse of Mr. Snowy Owl hovering above the trees.

"What do you want now?" Grumpy Weasel scolded, as he paused close by the old hemlock where Solomon Owl sometimes sat and abused him.

"I want to see the fur fly," Tommy Fox answered wickedly.

For a moment Grumpy Weasel couldn't think what he meant. But suddenly he saw a large whitish shape dropping upon him out of the sky. He knew then, in a flash, that Tommy Fox had deceived him.

A moment more and it was all over. At least, it seemed so to Tommy Fox.

Whatever had happened had taken place so quickly that he couldn't see it clearly. But there was Mr. Snowy Owl, sitting on a limb of the hemlock, where he had perched after staying half a second's time on the ground.

And Grumpy Weasel was no longer to be seen, anywhere.

"Did--did you swallow him?" Tommy Fox stammered.

Mr. Snowy Owl looked puzzled.

"I don't know," he replied. "Perhaps I did! If I didn't I don't know where he is."

Tommy Fox couldn't help looking disappointed. "I'm sorry about one thing," he said. "It was all done so quickly I didn't see the fur fly!"

Then there was a faint sound above them. And looking up, Tommy and Mr.

Owl saw Grumpy Weasel's head sticking out of a small hole high up in the tree-trunk.

As they watched him Grumpy Weasel seemed to be saying something to them.

They couldn't hear what it was. But no doubt it was nothing pleasant.

XXV

PETER MINK'S PROMISE

It happened, on a bleak winter's day, that Grumpy Weasel was strolling along the bank of Broad Brook when all at once he heard a squall.

Instantly he whirled around. There was something about the cry that sounded familiar. And while he searched the stream up and down with his sharp eyes he grew angrier every moment.

"Unless I'm mistaken that's my good-for-nothing cousin, Peter Mink,"

Grumpy muttered. "I'll teach him not to squall at me--the rascal!"

He did not have to look long before he caught sight of his cousin.

Peter Mink was crouched under the overhanging bank, not far from the edge of the frozen surface of the brook. And he squalled again when he saw that Grumpy had discovered him.

"Stop that!" Grumpy Weasel bellowed. He was not greatly afraid of Peter Mink, though his cousin was much bigger than he. "I'll have you know that I don't allow people to bawl at me, even if we are distantly related."