CHAPTER IV

DARK HOURS IN LOUIE THOMSON’S PRISON

Louie Thomson! Yes, Louie Thomson was the boy who caught Nibble Rabbit’s runaway bunny baby. Just exactly what everyone was afraid of! For Louie Thomson wasn’t good and kind, like Tommy Peele. He did more awful things to the Wild Things than even Killer the Weasel, and they were terribly scared of him. Every last one of them was scared, excepting--excepting Nibble’s runaway bunny.

She didn’t know enough to be scared. She was just contrary. She wouldn’t believe that scrouching down in a little hollow like a hop-toad is the surest way to get caught. She would be afraid of a nice, toothless old hop-toad, who wouldn’t hurt anybody and she wouldn’t be afraid of cruel Louie Thomson, who hurt everybody excepting--excepting Nibble’s runaway bunny.

I told you the only way the Wild Things could be safe was to stay wild and be very careful. That’s because most of their wild enemies are the Things-from-under-the-Earth who came especially and particularly to eat them. But men are different. Deep down inside him every man knows that he’s just their big brother. He can half-remember the time when he used to live with them, before he quarrelled with Mother Nature.

Well, that wee bunny wasn’t a bit afraid of Louie Thomson; that’s just why she was safe with him. His hand was soft and warm, like Tommy Peele’s; when she cuddled down inside it he half-remembered what it was like in the First-Off Beginning of Things, when little boys and little bunnies played together. He didn’t want to hurt her. He said: “You cunning little thing, I’m going to take you home and show that smarty Tommy Peele he isn’t the only fellow who has pets. I guess I can tame you.” But he wasn’t any too sure. He had one pet already that he couldn’t tame.

Catching pets is one thing; taming them is another. You have to make them happy. And Louie hadn’t the least idea in the world how to do that. He took little bunny out of the clean, windy air and the warm sun and he put her in a smelly, dark cellar. He gave her some grass, but it was all tops and she was too little to eat anything but the tender white stems. He didn’t think to give her a drink of water. She was shivery cold and there wasn’t any mother to snuggle against. She was thirsty and there wasn’t any mother to give her a drink. She was lonely and there wasn’t any mother to comfort her. Poor bunny baby. She just sat in a miserable little heap and squalled, “Mammy, mammy, mammy!” exactly the way Nibble did when he lost his mother.

Suddenly a growly voice spoke up: “For sunlight’s sake, hush up, Bunny! She can’t possibly hear you. And I’m listening for something.”

That scared her quiet. Pretty soon the growly voice spoke up again, “Who are you, anyway?”

“I’m Nibble Rabbit’s bunny,” she sobbed.

“You are?” said the voice. “Did you ever hear him speak of Tad Coon?”

Now you know what happened to Tad Coon! It was Louie Thomson’s corn-crib he chased those mice in. It was Louie Thomson who shut the door on him. And it was Louie who put him in a cage in the dark, smelly cellar. No wonder none of the Woodsfolk could find him!

Now here was Nibble Rabbit’s baby, caged in an old box, right beside him. She told Tad all about Louie’s catching her when she was running away from the awful hop-toad.

“You are a silly bunny,” said Tad. “That hop-toad hasn’t a tooth in his head. He can’t hurt any one. And he’s wise. He’s most as wise as old Doctor Muskrat.”

“But he’s so scary ugly,” sniffed the bunny. “It must be horrid to be as ugly as that.”

“Ho!” snorted Tad. “He doesn’t think it’s horrid. He likes it. He doesn’t have to be careful about hiding like you bunnies.”

“I know,” sniffed the poor bunny. “I hid like a hop-toad. That’s why I was caught. My daddy told me not to. He called me ‘Hop-toad’ to make me stop doing it.” She began to cry again.

“That sounds like Nibble,” chuckled Tad. “Well, listen to me; you nice juicy little bunnies can’t hide too carefully. Everybody’ll eat you. But nobody wants to eat a hop-toad. I know I wouldn’t--not even now.”

“You wouldn’t eat me,” squealed the poor bunny.

“I might,” said Tad. “You see I’m so starvation hungry. Dry bread and carrots aren’t any food for a decent coon. Not even an ear of corn, by way of a change.”

“Oh, oh, oh!” cried the poor bunny. “Mammy! Mammy!”

“Now whist,” said Tad soothingly. “I can’t get you, so you’re perfectly safe. But if ever you get out of here you’ll be more careful about trusting folks, won’t you? You never can tell just how hungry they are, you know.”

“But I never will. I’ll die right here. I’ll never get out.”

“Yes, you will, too,” said Tad. “I’m going to get out. I don’t know when or how, but I will. And if ever I do it won’t take me a minute to open your cage with my handy-paws. And then I won’t want to eat you any more. This place is just alive with mice. If ever I get after them they’ll know it. Grr-r-r! I sit here and listen to them. I know all their holes. I’ll hunt ’em!” and he licked his whiskers at the very idea. “Now you cuddle down, little hop-toad, and I’ll tell you stories about Nibble Rabbit.”

And he did. He told her about the time he went fishing and splashed Nibble, and how Grandpop Snapping-turtle nipped the end of his tail. He forgot to be hungry and the bunny forgot to be scared until she fell fast asleep.