The Tale of Grumpy Weasel Part 2

"Which one of us are you answering?" he demanded of Solomon.

"Him!" said Solomon.

"Did you say, 'Ahem?'" Grumpy Weasel wanted to know.

"No, no!" Solomon a.s.sured him. "I said, 'him.' I was answering your friend."

Grumpy Weasel made a wry face, as if he did not care to have anybody speak of Mr. Meadow Mouse as a friend of his. And he did not quit the stone wall until he had seen Mr. Meadow Mouse venture forth in safety.

"Just by accident I overheard your remarks a few minutes ago," Mr. Owl explained. "I'd like to watch this hole-crawling contest. And I'll stay here and be the umpire--and see that there's fair play."

VI

MR. MEADOW MOUSE ESCAPES

Grumpy Weasel did not like Solomon Owl's offer to be umpire of the hole-crawling contest between Mr. Meadow Mouse and himself. He hissed a few times and glared at Solomon Owl, up in the hemlock tree.

Solomon Owl did not appear to mind that, but calmly outstared Grumpy Weasel without once blinking. "Are you both ready?" he asked presently.

"Yes, thank you!" Mr. Meadow Mouse answered. And Grumpy Weasel gave a sort of shrug, as if to say that he supposed he was.

"First you may try that hole between those mossy stones," Mr. Owl announced, with a tilt of his head toward the wall.

"Certainly!" cried Mr. Meadow Mouse.

"You go first and I'll follow," Grumpy Weasel told him.

And Mr. Meadow Mouse didn't dare disobey. He whisked through the hole spryly and was back again in no time.

Then Grumpy took his turn. He was certainly quicker than Mr. Meadow Mouse. Even the umpire, Solomon Owl, had to admit that.

"But of course that's not the point," Solomon observed. "It's the one that gets stuck in a hole that loses the contest."

Well, after Grumpy and Mr. Meadow Mouse had slipped through several holes, each one smaller than the one before, Mr. Meadow Mouse said that he thought it was only polite to let Grumpy go first. Secretly Mr.

Meadow Mouse was afraid of what might happen if he should have the misfortune to get wedged in a hole, with Grumpy Weasel ready to follow him. He had had some trouble getting through the last one and he knew that he could never squeeze through one that was much smaller.

Grumpy Weasel lost his temper at once.

"I'll do as I please on my stone wall!" he snapped. And he was angrier than ever when Solomon Own said to him, "It's your turn!" Probably no other of the woods people--unless it was one of the Hawk family--could have made Grumpy Weasel obey. And now he insisted that if he "went first" he ought to be allowed to choose whatever hole he pleased.

Both Solomon Owl and Mr. Meadow Mouse agreed. So Grumpy Weasel popped through a hole of his own choosing, and he did not reappear, though he called to Mr. Meadow Mouse to "come on."

Mr. Meadow Mouse hung back.

"You'll have to excuse me," he stammered.

"What's the matter?" boomed Solomon Owl. "Do you want to lose the contest?"

"No!" said Mr. Meadow Mouse. "But Grumpy Weasel is still inside that hole. There's no other way out."

"How do you know?" Solomon Owl asked him.

"Oh, I've been here before, often," Mr. Meadow Mouse replied.

"Are you sure?" Mr. Owl inquired.

"I'll go on the other side of the wall and look," Mr. Meadow Mouse offered. And thereupon he skipped over the wall.

Solomon Owl waited patiently. And so did Grumpy Weasel. But Mr. Meadow Mouse never came back. Once out of sight he scampered away. And he never trespa.s.sed on Grumpy Weasel's hunting ground again.

VII

PADDY MUSKRAT'S BLUNDER

Sometimes Grumpy Weasel found the hunting poor along the stretch of stone wall that he called his own--though of course it really belonged to Farmer Green. And though he disliked to wander much in strange neighborhoods, once in a while he visited other parts of Pleasant Valley.

It was on such an excursion to the bank of the mill pond that he caught sight, one day, of Paddy Muskrat--or to be more exact, that Paddy Muskrat caught sight of him.

Now it was seldom that anybody spoke to Grumpy Weasel. On the contrary, most of the forest-folk dodged out of sight whenever they saw him, and said nothing. So he wheeled like a flash and started to run when somebody called, "Hullo, stranger!"

One quick backward glance at a small wet head in the water told Grumpy that he had nothing to fear.

"Hullo, yourself!" he retorted "And you'd better not call me 'stranger,'

because I'm no stranger than you are."

Well, Paddy Muskrat--for it was he who had spied Grumpy Weasel on the bank of the pond--saw at once that whoever the slender and elegant person might be, he had the worst of manners. Though Paddy had lived in the mill pond a long time, he had never met any one that looked exactly like the newcomer. To be sure, there was Peter Mink, who was long-bodied and short-tempered, as the stranger appeared to be. But when Paddy inquired whether the visitor wasn't a distant connection of the Mink family (as indeed he was!), Grumpy Weasel said, "What! Do you mean to insult me by asking whether I'm related to such a ragged, ruffianly crowd?"

Somehow Paddy Muskrat rather liked that answer, for Peter Mink and all his family were fine swimmers and most unwelcome in the mill pond.

And perhaps--who knew?--perhaps the spic-and-span chap on the bank, with the sleek coat and black-tipped tail, was one of the kind that didn't like to get his feet wet.

Then Paddy Muskrat asked the stranger a silly question. He was not the wisest person, anyhow, in Pleasant Valley, as his wife often reminded him. "You're not a distant relation of Tommy Fox, are you?" he inquired.

Grumpy Weasel actually almost smiled.

"Now, how did you happen to guess that?" he asked.

"Because you've got such a sharp nose," Paddy Muskrat replied. And he was quite pleased with himself, for he thought that he wasn't so stupid as some people thought.

"Any other reason?" Grumpy Weasel inquired, stepping to the edge of the overhanging bank.