The Tale of Grumpy Weasel Part 5

WINNING BY A TRICK

Grumpy Weasel wouldn't stop long with his cousin, Peter Mink, and old Mr. Crow and all the rest.

He was in a hurry to overtake Jimmy Rabbit. And after quarreling fiercely with the whole company--except his cousin--he sprang up with a wicked glitter in his black eyes and left without another word.

"That fixed him," said Mr. Crow knowingly.

"What did?" Peter Mink demanded.

"That rest!" Mr. Crow replied. "It gave Jimmy Rabbit just time enough to go where he's going." And that was all he would say.

Not until Grumpy Weasel returned some time later did any one know what Mr. Crow meant.

Grumpy Weasel was in a terrible temper when he came slowly back.

Everybody could tell, without asking, that the race was ended.

"Where did you catch him?" Peter Mink asked his cousin.

Grumpy Weasel said in a few ill-chosen words that he hadn't caught Jimmy Rabbit at all, and that somebody had played a trick on him. He looked directly at Mr. Crow as he spoke.

"It wasn't Johnny Green, was it?" Mr. Crow inquired solemnly as he moved carefully to a higher limb.

Grumpy Weasel could tell, then, without a doubt, that it was Mr. Crow that had made him lose the race. Grumpy had followed hot on Jimmy Rabbit's tracks. And to his surprise they led straight toward the farm buildings. But Grumpy kept on and never stopped until he reached the farmyard fence where he crouched and watched Jimmy disappear--of all places!--right in the woodshed, where Johnny Green was picking up an armful of wood.

Of course Grumpy Weasel wouldn't think of entering such a dangerous place. And when he heard a shout and saw Johnny Green come out with Jimmy Rabbit in his arms he knew that Jimmy Rabbit had won the race, even if he had lost his freedom.

"It was that old black rascal, Mr. Crow, that put that notion into Jimmy Rabbit's head," Grumpy said savagely to himself as he turned and made for the woods. "They were talking together a little while ago."

And all the way back to the stone wall he kept thinking what he would do to Mr. Crow if he could ever get hold of him. So you can see that he must have looked very dangerous when he reached his hunting ground; and you can understand why Mr. Crow took pains to change his seat.

"I may have lost the race--through a trick," Grumpy hissed as he glared at Mr. Crow. "But one thing is certain: That young Jimmy Rabbit will trouble us no more. He's Johnny Green's prisoner."

"Nonsense!" cried Mr. Crow. "He'll escape some fine day."

"Nonsense! He won't!" Grumpy Weasel disputed. And he never begged Mr.

Crow's pardon. And neither did Peter Mink apologize to the old gentleman, as Mr. Crow had said he would. So in one way Mr. Crow was wrong. But in another way he was right. For it wasn't a week before Jimmy Rabbit appeared in the woods again, as spry as ever.

XIII

SILLY MRS. HEN

Strange to say, Grumpy Weasel was trying to be pleasant. Of course he didn't really know how, for he always practiced being surly and rude. It must be confessed, too, that he had succeeded in making himself heartily disliked by everybody that knew him.

There were a few, however, who had yet to learn of Grumpy Weasel's bad traits. Among these was a foolish, fat hen who lived in Farmer Green's henhouse. And now Grumpy Weasel was doing his best to make a good impression on her.

It is no wonder, perhaps, that this lady was unaware of her caller's real nature. For Grumpy was careful, as a rule, to visit the farmyard only after dark. And being a person of quiet habits Mrs. Hen was always abed and asleep at that time.

Grumpy found it a bit difficult to chat with Mrs. Hen because old dog Spot was sprawled on the farmhouse steps; and naturally Grumpy felt like keeping one eye on him. But the other he turned, as well as he could, on Mrs. Hen, who was in the henyard looking for worms. Just outside the wire fence Grumpy Weasel crouched and told Mrs. Hen how well she was looking.

His pretty speeches pleased Mrs. Hen so much that she actually let a fat angleworm get away from her because she hadn't her mind on what she was doing. She noticed meanwhile that one of her neighbors was making frantic motions, as if she had something important to say. So Mrs. Hen sauntered across the henyard to find out what it was.

"Don't you know whom you're talking to?" the neighbor demanded in a loud whisper. "That's Grumpy Weasel--the worst rascal in all these parts."

Somehow that sent a pleasant flutter of excitement through Mrs. Hen. At the same time she couldn't quite believe the news, because her caller had said such very pleasant things.

"Don't worry!" she told her neighbor. "I'm old enough to look out for myself."

"I should say so!" her neighbor cried. "You're three years old if you're a day!"

"I'm not!" Mrs. Hen retorted. "I'm only two and a half." Her feathers were all ruffled up and she went straight back and told Grumpy Weasel what her neighbor had said about him.

"You don't believe that, I hope," Grumpy ventured.

Mrs. Hen clucked and tried to look wise. And at last she confided to Grumpy that her neighbor was a jealous creature and sure to speak ill of a stranger who came to call on anybody but herself.

Well, Grumpy Weasel told Mrs. Hen that he knew, when he first set eyes on her, that she was a sensible little body.

"You've a snug home here," he went on. "I can tell you that I'd like such a place to crawl into on a chilly, wet night." And though it was a warm, fine summer's day he shivered and shook, so Mrs. Hen could see.

And silly Mrs. Hen couldn't help feeling sorry for him.

XIV

GRUMPY VANISHES

Grumpy Weasel was quick to see that fat Mrs. Hen swallowed every word he said as greedily as if it had been an angleworm. "Yes! You have a fine house here," he said. "But of course you're crowded," he added gloomily, to show Mrs. Hen that he knew she had no place for him.

"Oh! Not at all!" Mrs. Hen a.s.sured him.

"And the door's always shut tight at night," he added, "on account of that prowling Tommy Fox."

"Yes! We have to be careful," said Mrs. Hen.

"And there's Peter Mink, too," Grumpy went on. "Don't leave an opening big enough for him! He can get through a small hole, too--any that's big enough for his head."

At that Mrs. Hen looked startled, as if she had just remembered something that made her feel uneasy.

"He couldn't get through a rat hole, could he?" she inquired nervously.