Chapter 3

Though he was a great eater Fatty was also a fast one. And now he bolted a huge meal of corn in only a few minutes. Then, smiling broadly, he left the corncrib by his private doorway and squatted down to await Grumpy's return.

In a little while Grumpy appeared.

"I hoped I'd see you again," Fatty Coon told him. "Did you have any luck?"

"No!" Grumpy Weasel snapped. "I was mistaken about your idea. It was a very poor one. For I've been running in a circle (as you suggested) till I'm dizzy; and I haven't seen the least sign of a mouse nor a squirrel."

Fatty Coon told him to cheer up.

"I've another idea for you," he said.

"Keep it! Keep it!" Grumpy Weasel hissed. "Your last idea only made me tired; and I haven't a capture to my credit to-night."

"That's because you ran too fast," Fatty explained glibly. "Now, if you'll be careful to run slowly, and do just as I tell you, I can promise that there'll be a capture, without fail."

Grumpy had had such bad luck in his hunting about the farmyard that he decided to listen, anyhow. He told himself that he wouldn't take Fatty's advice unless it was much better than he expected.

"Well--go on!" he grunted.

"Do you see that little house near the woodshed?" Fatty Coon asked him. "It has a low doorway that's always open, and no windows at all."

"Yes!" said Grumpy Weasel harshly. "Of course I see it. I'm not blind."

"Do you know who lives there?"

"I always supposed that it belonged to Johnnie Green," said Grumpy. "His father is big and lives in the big house, and Johnnie is little and lives in the little house."

Fatty Coon laughed merrily.

"You don't know as much as I thought you did!" he cried. It may be that Fatty had set out to make Grumpy angry. Anyhow, Grumpy's eyes burned in the darkness like two coals of fire.

"I'm right about that little house," he wrangled.

"Nonsense!" Fatty Coon exclaimed. And that made Grumpy angrier than ever.

"You learned that word of old Mr. Crow!" he grumbled. "It's his favorite expression; and I can't endure it."

"You don't need to stay here and listen to it," Fatty Coon said. "If you dared to you could run over to Johnnie Green's house (as you call it); and if you found that you were right about it I promise you I'd never say 'Nonsense' again."

If Grumpy Weasel hadn't been so angry perhaps he wouldn't have been so eager to prove himself right. While Fatty watched him he bounded across the farmyard and stopped at the doorway of the tiny house. And then he bounded back again, a great deal faster, with old dog Spot yelping behind him.

Fatty Coon did not wait for anything more. He made for the woods at top speed, grinning as he went.

The next day he pretended to be surprised to meet Grumpy.

"You must have forgotten my advice," he said. "I promised you that there would be a capture if you ran slowly. But it's plain that you ran too fast, or you wouldn't be here."

"Nonsense!" Grumpy Weasel shouted, flying into a passion at once. And he often wondered, afterward, what Fatty Coon found to laugh at.

XVIII

POP! GOES THE WEASEL

There were many things that did not please Grumpy Weasel--things that almost any one else would have liked. For instance, there was music. The Pleasant Valley Singing Society, to which most of the bird people belonged, did not number Grumpy Weasel among its admirers. He never cared to hear a bird sing--not even Jolly Robin's cousin the Hermit, who was one of the most beautiful singers in the woods. And as for Buddy Brown Thrasher, whom most people thought a brilliant performer, Grumpy Weasel always groaned whenever he heard him singing in the topmost branches of a tree.

A bird-song--according to Grumpy Weasel--was of use in only one way: it told you where the bird was. And that was a help, of course, if you were trying to catch him.

Nor did the musical Frog family's nightly concerts have much charm for Grumpy, though he did admit that some of their songs were not so bad as others.

"I can stand it now and then," he said, "to hear a good, glum croaking, provided there are plenty of discords."

Naturally, knowing how he felt, Grumpy Weasel's neighbors never invited him to listen to their concerts. On the contrary they usually asked him please to go away, if he happened to come along. Certainly nobody could sing his best, with such a listener.

As a rule Grumpy Weasel was glad to go on about his business, though to be sure he hated to oblige anybody. But one day he stopped and scolded at the top of his voice when he came upon the Woodchuck brothers whistling in the pasture.

Their whistles quavered a bit when they noticed who was present. And they moved a little nearer their front door, in order to dodge out of sight if need be. Although Grumpy Weasel might follow them, there was a back door they could rush out of. And since they knew their way about their underground halls better than he did they did not worry greatly.

"We're sorry--" said the biggest brother, who was called Billy Woodchuck--"we're sorry you don't like our music. And we'd like to know what's the matter with it; for we always strive to please."

"It's not so much the way you whistle," Grumpy snarled, "though your whistling is bad enough, it's so cheerful. What I find fault with especially is the tune. It's insulting to me. And you can't deny it."

Well, the Woodchuck brothers looked at one another in a puzzled fashion.

"Never again let me hear you whistling, 'Pop! Goes the Weasel,'" Grumpy warned them. That was the name of the Woodchuck brothers' favorite air, and the one they could whistle best. And any one could see that they were quite upset.

"Why don't you like that tune?" Billy Woodchuck asked Grumpy Weasel politely.

"It's that word 'pop,'" Grumpy said. "It reminds me of a pop-gun. And a pop-gun reminds me of a real gun. And that's something I don't want to think about."

Well, the Woodchuck brothers looked at one another again. But this time they smiled.

"You've misunderstood," Billy Woodchuck told Grumpy Weasel. "This is a different kind of _pop_. It means that when you enter a hole you _pop_ into it in a jiffy, without taking all day to do it."

For a wonder Grumpy Weasel was almost pleased.

"That's true!" he cried. "I couldn't be slow if I wanted to be!" And he actually asked the Woodchuck brothers to whistle "Pop! Goes the Weasel" once more.

But Grumpy Weasel never thought of thanking them.

XIX

HIDING FROM HENRY HAWK

In the spring Grumpy Weasel was always glad to see the birds coming back from the South. But it must not be supposed that it was because he liked to hear them sing (for he didn't!).

Nor should any one make the mistake of thinking that Grumpy Weasel loved the birds. The only reason why he welcomed them was because he liked to hunt them, and rob their nests.

But there were two birds that Grumpy didn't care to have in Pleasant Valley. He often wished that Solomon Owl and Henry Hawk would leave the neighborhood and never return. That was because they liked to hunt him.

Especially did Grumpy Weasel dislike Henry Hawk, who had an unpleasant habit of sitting motionless on a limb in the top of some great tree. From that high perch he swept the whole valley with his keen, cruel eyes, because (as he said) he "liked to see what was going on."

If Henry Hawk saw anything anywhere that interested him he lost no time in reaching that place. It might be a bird, or a meadow mouse, or maybe a plump chicken. And he was always hoping to catch a glimpse of Grumpy Weasel.

One day early in the fall Mr. Hawk saw what he had been looking for so long. Near the old cider mill, up the road from Farmer Green's house, he spied a long, slender, brownish shape moving swiftly among a pile of barrels outside the building. He knew at once that it was Grumpy Weasel; and though he was a long way off Mr. Hawk could see that Grumpy was very busy looking for something--so busy, Mr. Hawk hoped, that Grumpy wouldn't notice anything else.

Henry Hawk had wonderful eyesight. As he came hurtling down out of the sky he could see that Grumpy was playing hide-and-seek with a mouse.

"It's a shame to break up the game," Mr. Hawk chuckled to himself.

And just then something made Grumpy Weasel look up. It must have been Henry Hawk's shadow flickering over a barrel. There was no other sign that could have warned Grumpy.

He put the meadow mouse out of his mind without a bit of trouble and made a sidewise spring for the first hole on which his eyes lighted.

Grumpy was through it in a twinkling. Henry Hawk made a frantic grab with his talons at the black tip of Grumpy's tail, just as it whisked out of sight. But he was too late.

It did not soothe Henry Hawk's feelings to find that the meadow mouse had vanished at the same time. Henry would have liked to play hide-and-seek with him himself.

Mr. Hawk knew well enough where Grumpy was hiding. That slim fellow had sought safety in an empty jug, which was lying on its side near the pile of barrels. It made a fine fort for Grumpy Weasel. The enemy couldn't break through it. And there was only one loophole, which was far too small to do Henry Hawk the least good.

Henry saw at once that he might as well go away. So he went off grumbling.

"This," he said, "is what comes of disorderly habits. Farmer Green ought not to have left that jug lying there. If he hadn't, I might have been able to do him a good turn."

XX

A FREE RIDE

Inside the jug, where he had hidden to escape Henry Hawk, Grumpy Weasel yawned widely and licked his chops. He was having a dull time, waiting until he was sure that Henry Hawk had given up the chase and gone away.

In a little while Grumpy believed he could venture out in safety. But suddenly, to his great disgust, a wagon came clattering in from the road and pulled up right beside the pile of empty barrels near him.

It was Farmer Brown, driving his old horse Ebenezer. And of course Grumpy Weasel didn't care to show himself just then, especially with old dog Spot nosing around. He had already heard Spot give several sharp yelps.

"That old dog knows I'm here somewhere but he can't tell exactly where," Grumpy said to himself. "He can yelp his head off, for all I care."

And then Spot began to whine, and run in and out among the barrels, until he all but tripped Farmer Green, who was loading the barrels into the wagon.

"Let him whine!" said Grumpy Weasel softly. "His yelping and whining don't scare me. He can't get inside this jug of mine. And I certainly shan't leave it so long as he stays here."

Meanwhile he could hear Farmer Green talking to old Spot, telling him not to be silly.

"From the way you're acting anybody might think there was a bear around here," he told Spot.

Old dog Spot explained to Farmer Green in no uncertain fashion that it was no bear--but a weasel--that he was looking for. His nose told him that. And there was no mistake about it. But somehow Farmer Green couldn't understand a word he said. So after putting the last barrel on the load Farmer Green climbed up himself and started to drive off.

But old dog Spot wouldn't budge an inch. He hovered about the jug where Grumpy Weasel was hiding and made such a fuss that Farmer Green looked back at him.

"Well! well!" he exclaimed. And he stopped the horse Ebenezer and jumped down and walked back again.

"I declare I'd have forgotten to take this jug if you hadn't reminded me of it," he told Spot. And thereupon he picked up the jug and set it in the back of the wagon.

This time Spot followed. This time he was in the wagon before Farmer Green was. And all the way down the road, until they reached the farmyard, he acted (or so Farmer Green told him!) like a simpleton.

The whole affair made Grumpy Weasel terribly angry. He thought it was an outrage for Farmer Green to kidnap him like that. And he was so enraged that he would have taken a bite out of anything handy. But there wasn't a thing in the jug except himself.

At last the strange party drew up in front of the barn and stopped. Farmer Green led Ebenezer into his stall. And then he took the jug, with Grumpy Weasel still inside in, and in spite of Spot's protests set it high up on a shelf in the barn.

It was easy for Grumpy, after that, to crawl out of the jug. He scurried along the shelf, climbed up the wall, and glided through a crack in the ceiling, to hide himself in the haymow above.

"Old Spot didn't get me this time!" he said gleefully. "Not by a jugful, he didn't!"

XXI

A NEW SUIT

Throughout Pleasant Valley the very name of Grumpy Weasel was a bugaboo. Those of his size, and many a good deal bigger than he, learned early to avoid him.

One of the first things Sandy Chipmunk's mother did was to teach him to beware of Grumpy. And twice during his first summer Sandy caught a glimpse of Grumpy as he flashed past like a brown streak, with a gleam of white showing underneath.

It was lucky for Sandy that on both occasions Grumpy was intent on chasing somebody or other. And each time that Sandy told his mother what he had seen, Mrs. Chipmunk said that she hoped it would never happen again.

"I'm glad that you know what he looks like, anyhow," she added.

"Oh, I'll know him if I see him!" Sandy cried.

"Don't stop for a second look!" his mother warned him.

"I won't!" he promised. "I won't even stop to say, 'How do you do!'"

"I should hope not!" Mrs. Chipmunk said severely.

So Sandy Chipmunk went through his first summer on the watch for a long, slender, brownish shape. But he never saw Grumpy Weasel again. And winter found the Chipmunk family all unharmed, and very comfortable in their cozy house below frost line.

On mild days Sandy liked to visit the world above and find a rock bare of snow, where he could enjoy the sunshine.

It was on one of those outings that he caught sight of a stranger headed for the stone wall near-by. At first Sandy missed seeing him, against the snow. But when he reached the wind-swept wall Sandy couldn't help noticing him. He was a slim gentleman and--except for his black-tipped tail--was dressed all in white.

After spending the winter underground Sandy Chipmunk was glad to talk with the first person he saw. So he called to the stranger that it was a fine day, wasn't it?

The other wheeled about so quickly that Sandy couldn't help laughing.

"Don't be nervous!" Sandy cried. "I won't hurt you!"

But the stranger didn't answer. Once he opened his mouth. And Sandy Chipmunk had a queer feeling then that he had met the fellow before. That mouth had plenty of white, needle-like teeth. It had a cruel look, too.

Then the stranger jumped straight toward Sandy Chipmunk. And in that instant Sandy knew who he was. No one could leap like that except Grumpy Weasel!

Sandy turned and ran madly for shelter. Luckily he had the advantage of Grumpy in one way. He had a bare ledge to run on, while Grumpy Weasel had to flounder for some distance through a snow-choked hollow.

So Sandy escaped. And it was lucky that Grumpy didn't find the door to the Chipmunk family's burrow. If he had he would have gone right in himself.

Mrs. Chipmunk blamed herself for Sandy's adventure. She had never remembered to tell her son that every fall Grumpy Weasel changed his summer dress for the one in which Sandy had just seen him.

XXII

GRUMPY'S THREAT

Meeting Grumpy Weasel in the woods one day, Tommy Fox stopped to have a chat with him. He always liked to chat with Grumpy, it was so easy to get him angry, and such fun to see him fly into a passion.

"You're looking very elegant in your winter suit," Tommy Fox remarked. "White is becoming to you--there's no doubt of that. And that black tip on the end of your tail is just what's needed to complete your costume. It matches your eyes nicely.... You must have a good tailor."

People were apt to be wary of Tommy Fox when fine words dripped from his mouth like that. It usually meant that he was bent on some mischief. And now Grumpy Weasel looked at him suspiciously.

"If you admire my clothes so much why don't you get some like them?" he demanded.

Tommy Fox shook his head mournfully.

"I'd like to," he said, "but I'm too humble a person to dress like a king, in ermine. My family have always worn red. The neighbors wouldn't know me in anything else. Or if they did they'd say I was putting on airs."

"If you want to know what I think, I'll tell you that red's entirely too good for you," Grumpy Weasel sneered.

Tommy Fox smiled somewhat sourly. Grumpy Weasel's remark did not please him. But he managed to say nothing disagreeable.

"I suppose," he went on, "you've met the newcomer in our valley who dresses as you do, in white and black?"

"What's that you say?" Grumpy Weasel barked. "Who's gone and copied my cold-weather clothes? If I meet him I'll make it hot for him."

"Perhaps I shouldn't have mentioned the matter," Tommy Fox said softly. "I don't like to displease you. And I don't want to get a stranger into trouble either, just as he has come to spend the winter amongst us.

"And besides," Tommy added, "it would be a shame for you to quarrel with the stranger because he happens to choose your favorite colors. That only goes to show that your tastes are alike."

"That's exactly what I object to!" Grumpy Weasel complained, getting much excited. "If his tastes are the same as mine he'll want to come and hunt along my stone wall. And there'll be trouble if he does that! The fur will fly!"

Tommy Fox turned his head away, for he simply had to enjoy a grin and he didn't want Grumpy Weasel to see it.

"I'm sorry I spoke about the stranger," he said glibly, as soon as he could keep his face straight. "But I thought the news would please you."

"It would certainly please me to meet him," Grumpy Weasel declared fiercely. "And it would please me much more than it would him, I can tell you."

"It wouldn't be treating a newcomer well to let him wander through the woods when you feel as you do about him. I ought to warn him to leave Pleasant Valley before it's too late," Tommy said.

"It would be treating him better to give him a good lesson before he goes," Grumpy Weasel said. "You needn't say a word to him about my wanting to meet him. Let the fur fly first! And then he'll flee.

"That's my way of getting rid of strangers!"

XXIII

A BOLD STRANGER

Tommy Fox had carefully kept from Grumpy Weasel the name of the stranger who was dressed like Grumpy, in white and black. It happened that he wore feathers--this newcomer. And that was one reason why Tommy Fox had had to grin when Grumpy threatened to "make the fur fly" when he met the unknown.

Another reason why Tommy had laughed at Grumpy's blustering 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.