You know live together in the winter but separate when they nest in the spring. They mostly settle near enough together so that when anything goes wrong the covey call can bring them all in. They help each other if they can; if they can’t at least they learn about the danger to those precious nests of their own.  
But when Bob White’s wife gave that “Prr-whit!” that a quail’s ears can hear so far, her own husband did not come. The other birds might all over the woods and fields calling anxiously, “Bob White, Bob White, Oh, Bob White!” but he did not answer.
 
was the only one who knew for sure who had taken the eggs. He didn’t tell on Stripes —not yet, for fear the little would hear of it. He called Chaik Jay and whispered, “Tell Watch the Dog to find my trail and follow it.” Then he set out after Stripes. “That bad knows what happened to Bob,” he said to himself. “I’m glad I didn’t let him fool me a second time. He wanted me to persuade Bob’s wife to go back to her nest and trust him—then he’d have caught her, and maybe I wouldn’t be in trouble! Just maybe!” And he ran as fast as ever he could.
 
But he was only half right. Stripes did know what had happened to Bob White, but he wasn’t to blame for it. Instead he was doing his best to help the poor bird. He was back to the Quail’s with his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth and his long hairy tail waggling because he was too winded to .
 
Nibble ran right straight into him. The first thing he said was, “What are you doing here?” and the next was “What about Bob White Quail?”
 
And wasn’t Stripes s’prised? “How ever did you hear?” he . “I haven’t seen a single wing I could send for help, so I’ve ’most burst my sides coming after you my own self. He’s hanging upside down from a little tree. He’ll die if you don’t get him down soon. Hurry! Hurry!”
 
Hurry! You just better believe Nibble did. He knew what that meant. Bob was caught in exactly the same kind of a that Tommy Peele had set for Nibble. You remember he fastened a wire to the tip end of a springy sapling, and then he it over and it down. The minute anything touched it, swish went the sapling and swish went whatever was caught in that wicked wire. This one had tight hold of Bob White’s foot, and there he hung with his head limp and his wings just weakly fluttering.
 
 
Bob White was caught in Tommy Peele’s snare.
“I guess I’ll have to try to through this tree,” said Nibble anxiously. “I simply can’t climb.” And he looked at his

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