But there was a whole lot of excitement near the Pond. There was Tad Coon in the crotch of a tree, there was Trailer the Hound the top of the where Tad had sat to keep out of reach of the angry turtle, and there was Rabbit snuggled beneath the Pickery Things, so curious that he couldn’t sit still.  
Pretty soon Trailer began to whimper. “Coon, coon, coon,” he said to himself. “Where did he come from? Where did he go?” And he was so puzzled that he shook his head until his ears .
 
That was too much for Tad Coon. He pulled off a strip of bark and dropped it right on top of Trailer. The hound jumped as though something had stung him.
 
And wasn’t Nibble surprised? He didn’t see how Tad dared play tricks on the very dog he said was his worst enemy.
 
Pretty soon Tad began to call out: “Hey; you hound, go away! I want to come down before that Man with the gun gets back here.”
 
“Go away?” barked Trailer. “I most certainly won’t. I’ll stay right here and keep you until I see what Sandy and Tommy Peele want to do with you.”
 
“Tommy won’t hurt you,” shouted Nibble. “He’ll just make friends with you.”
 
“No, thank you,” grinned Tad Coon. “Not the way he makes friends. I don’t want to be trapped like you and Doctor , and I don’t want to be hunted like Silvertip the Fox. I’m going.”
 
“But you haven’t been stealing his chickens like Silvertip did,” argued Nibble.
 
“How do you know?” asked Tad. For it was his guilty conscience that made him afraid. He didn’t exactly steal Tommy Peele’s chickens, but he had eaten some eggs that were very nearly hatched. And all this time Nibble could see him working away at something with his little handy-paws. Pretty soon he called again: “Mister Hound, I asks you for the last time, are you going to let me down?”
 
“Yah!” barked Trailer. “I ’most certainly am not.”
 
“Hm,” Tad Coon. “We’ll see about that, then.” Blam! He hit Trailer square on the head with something. And this time the hound jumped because he really was stung. “Ow, ow, ow!” he , and he started for home on the run with a trail of buzzing insects strung out behind him.
 
 
Tad Coon hits Trailer on the head with a hornet’s nest.
“Run, run, run!” squalled Tad. “Look at that hound run! He’s only hitting the high spots. Ye-a-o-u-w! See him go!” And he danced about on the limb until the limb danced with him.
 
Trailer was surely running—faster than ever he’d run on any trail. But this time he wasn’t chasing any one—the were chasing him. For it wasn’t a piece of bark Tad threw down the last time—it was the fat round nest of some paper .
 
Nibble Rabbit wasn’t seeing any of the fun. He knew something about paper wasps. They were buzzing all over everywhere, and they don’t care who they sting when they get angry. He sat very still in the Pickery Things with his twitchy nose tucked down between his feet, and his waggly ears laid flat back, and his bright eyes squinched up as tight as ever he could shut them. Some of those wasps flew right by him and never knew he was anything but a round stone—not even the one that its legs in his whiskers. He did feel sorry for poor Trailer; but all the same Tad Coon had been pretty smart to send him home.
 
But Tad Coon wasn’t quite as smart as he thought he was. Trailer ran so fast that he left most of those wasps behind him. And he went bouncing through the brush at such a rate that he scraped a lot more off of him. Pretty soon they began coming back to where their nest had been. And they couldn’t find it. That didn’t improve their tempers, I can tell you. But if they couldn’t find their nest, they certainly could find Tad Coon. And just didn’t they?
 
Now it was Tad’s turn to howl. “Ow-ow-ow!” he cried. And he squinched up his eyes as tight as ever Nibble did and began to down as fast as ever his little handy-paws would let him. But when he opened his mouth a stung him right on the tongue, and when he shut it his little black nose got the stinging. And when he tried to cover it with his paw he lost his hold and went tumbling down to the ground.
 
Blam! It almost knocked the breath out of him. But he rolled over and over till he found his feet and then he to Doctor Muskrat’s Pond as fast as he could limp on three of them. He kept trying to brush the wasps off his nose and ears with the other one, until he could jump into the water. And then he splashed around as hard as ever he could. The wasps didn’t like that a little bit, because they can’t fly when their wings get wet. So they went away and left him.
 
Then poor Tad Coon began shouting: “Do’ Mu’a! Do’ Mu’a!” Because his poor stung tongue couldn’t say Doctor Muskrat.
 
He wished he hadn’t dropped that wasps’ nest down on Trailer. And he wished those wasps hadn’t come back and stung him. And he wished he hadn’t fallen out of the tree and bumped himself. And he wished his nose wasn’t up so he couldn’t see around it. And he wished his poor tongue wasn’t hanging out of the corner of his mouth with such a great big sting that he couldn’t say any of his wishes. All he could do was shout “Do’ Mu’a!” when he was trying with all his might to shout “Doctor Muskrat!” And Doctor Muskrat wouldn’t come.
 
But Nibble Rabbit did. And when he heard Tad Coon’s great big and saw the tears in his eyes he felt sorry for him. So he began to and pound for the doctor.
 
Pretty soon Doctor Muskrat came out on top of his house in the middle of the pond and answered. “I hear you,” he snapped. “And I heard Tad Coon in the first place. But I’m not going to do anything for him. I don’t mind the funny tricks he plays, but that one just played on Trailer the Hound was cruel.”
 
“I ’o,” sniffed Tad. “I i’ ‘o’ i’ u’ hu’ ho.”
 
“He didn’t know it would hurt so,” Nibble translated. “Don’t scratch your ears, Tad. Come over and let me lick them.”
 
“That’s no excuse,” said Doctor Muskrat . “What if Tommy Peele thinks we did it? That hound can’t explain. And he doesn’t know anybody else is here with us.”
 
“Yes, but Tad doesn’t know Tommy,” Nibble pleaded. “He’s awfully afraid of being caught. You know how that hurts your own self. And lots of times they put coons in cages, and I didn’t like my cage. But he’s sorry as anything that he did it.”
 
“So I see,” said the doctor, just as gruffly as ever, and he dove back into the pond. Poor Tad himself over to the flat stone so Nibble could fix his ears while he splashed the cool water over his nose and tongue. My, but he was ! He didn’t even blame Doctor Muskrat for being angry with him.
 
Then suddenly up popped a head right beside him. “Open your mouth,” said the doctor. “Bite on that.” And he slipped a soft, chewed root poultice on to Tad’s tongue. “Now raise your head.” And he clapped a blue clay plaster on Tad’s nose. “Snort!” And Tad snorted a pair of holes to breathe through. “There,” said he; “you’ll be all right before long.”
 
But Nibble had his ears . “There comes Watch,” he said. “I heard him bark. Tad can’t run.”
 
“You hide him in the Pickery Things,” ordered the doctor. “I’ll try to get this matter settled.”
 
“M-m-m-m!” Tad Coon gratefully through his poultice. And he limped off after Nibble, still holding up his nose.