nibble has his doubts about dogs

“that was a lovely story.” nibble chuckled, clear out to the tip of his tufty bunny tail. he chuckled so hard he forgot he was locked up in an uncomfortable cage, without a decent corner to snuggle in. “but you haven’t told me yet how the first dog made friends with his man. go on. please do.”

“n-no.” watch answered thoughtfully, scratching his shoulder. “i’d rather not. i’m afraid you mightn’t understand.”

“yes, i would,” teased nibble. “of course i would. in the very first-off beginning the dog made friends with the baby and the woman because he made them laugh. did he make the man laugh, too?”

“why—yes. i expect he did,”

watch answered. “you see, the man wasn’t friendly when he came home. but the woman and the baby made him behave nicely. they always do. that is, they wouldn’t let him hit the dog with his stone hammer, or jab him with his spear. but he wouldn’t look at him. and the dog wanted that man to trust him—wanted it most of all.

“so he began following the man when he went out to hunt. but the man threw stones at him as soon as they got where the woman couldn’t see him do it, and told him to keep out of the way. the dog just crept off and hid.

“he saw the man creep up on a band of wild cows that were grazing and sleeping in the sun. but just when he was almost close enough to kill one they all began to snort and run. and they ran right past where the dog was hiding from the man.

“of course he knew what that man wanted. so he just bounded out and pinned a cow by the throat and sent her head over heels. and that did make the man laugh. my, but he was happy! so then he trusted the dog, too, and they were the best of friends for ever and ever.” and watch smiled as though he were right proud of the memory.

but nibble was horrified. “oh!” he gasped. “the poor cow! that was an awful thing to do. after the dogs pretended to be sorry that they had done it when they were starving. no wonder mother nature wouldn’t trust them.”

“there,” said watch. “i knew you wouldn’t understand. he didn’t do it for himself. he did it for his man.”

“the wild things warned me,” said nibble. “both of them are bad, dog and man.”

“look here, bunny,” watch explained patiently. “they don’t either of them do that now. they take care of the cows—because now the cows belong to man and have his smell about them. just the way i won’t touch you because you’re my man’s rabbit and have the smell of my man. i don’t like to kill things—except ouphe the rat, and that’s because he doesn’t belong to my man and my man told me to. mother nature wouldn’t trust the dog, so he won’t obey her. man did trust him, so he just everlastingly does obey his man.”

“i’d believe that better if the cows told it to me,” said nibble defiantly.

“all right! i’ll bring them up and let you talk to them as soon as they are milked and let out of the barn.” watch was perfectly good-natured about it. “i’m going my rounds now, but you just tell me if ouphe troubles you again.” and off he trotted, waving his plumy tail.

nibble was terribly shocked. so any dog would do anything his man told him to do, no matter what mother nature thought about it! now just what did the cows think of that? nibble wanted dreadfully to know, because he hadn’t the least chance in the world of asking mother nature or any of the wise wild things. how he did want good old doctor muskrat!

it was getting lighter and lighter, less and less scary every minute. everything would be much more cheerful when the sun peeked out over his shoulder from down south where he was busy with the other half of the earth. suddenly a voice shouted from somewhere right behind him,

“all evil spirits hark and hear

the warning call of chanticleer.

er-er-er-er-errh.”

it was just the rooster calling himself by a high-toned name—the way he always does. but nibble had never seen one. he was so s’prised he jumped and snubbed his nose against the cage. so he huddled up in the middle of it again.

then all the voices of the farm-yard began calling, “good morning! good morning!” and he thought of course they were calling to the sun. but pretty soon the pigs began their scary grunts and then one squealed, “good morning. we want our breakfast.” right off all the rest of them took it up. the horses whinnied and the cows mooed, and the sheep bleated, and the ducks and chickens and guinea-fowls and turkeys all shouted, “we want our breakfasts!”

suddenly a new voice cheeped, right beside him, “i want my breakfast, too!” it was chirp sparrow!

“oh, dear, i do wish they’d stop!” said nibble. “whoever are they calling? it isn’t the sun!”

“’course not. it’s their man and tommy peele. i can hear them coming.”

then nibble remembered something. “why, chirp,” he said, in surprise, “ouphe the rat said he had eaten you! and he tried to eat me, too!”

“ouphe is a liar,” said chirp decidedly. “i hope he hears me say it. i wish that dog could catch him.”

“he never will,” nibble answered sadly. “silvertip could, but not that dog. he shouts every time and lets ouphe know he’s coming. and when he does watch at one of ouphe’s holes he keeps beating the haystack with his tail. that’s a tattle-tail for sure. worse than the mouse’s.”

“i’ll tell you what.” chirp cocked his head on one side and looked thoughtful. “we’ll all have to put in and help the dog catch ouphe. if we don’t, there’ll be a young dog on this farm and he’s sure to be a foolish one.”

“but how can i help while i’m in this cage?”

“you’ll be out before long!” said chirp cheerfully. and so he was, though even chirp didn’t know how it was going to happen.

and just then tommy peele came running up with some toothsome carrots and a whole armful of clover hay—for nibble’s breakfast, though he hadn’t asked for it.