They ate and ate, for they were getting ready to travel. Of course they haven’t any trunks to pack, but they pack their little crops instead until they can hardly fly.
“We can’t sleep here again,” Bob explained, “until the dark of the next moon. Then you’ll know where to find us.”
“Slyfoot will stay here until then, because he knows all the hiding places. You mayn’t believe it, but he’s afraid to travel by moonlight on account of Hooter the Owl. Just the same, he is as restless as we are. On the first dark night he looks for a new hunting place as far away as he can.”
“Where are you going?” Nibble wanted to know. He felt sorry to lose them.
Bob stood up and flapped his wings to feel the air. “East or west,” he answered. “This wind is north. And it’s very strong. We couldn’t go far against it and if we went south it would tip up our tails and send us tumbling. But if we fly across it will lift us and help us along.” He took a little trial trip. Then he settled beside Nibble again. “West,” he said, “to the deepest woods. There’s a smell of weather. Come on. Whit! Whit! Good-bye, Nibble.” And they whirred away before Nibble could ask what Bob meant.
[Illustration: Nibble darted into the first shock he came to]
WHAT HAPPENS WHEN FOLKS LOSE THEIR TEMPERS
Nibble found out pretty soon what “a smell of weather” meant. When he went down to the Pond for a drink he saw a family of ducks. Some of them were paddling around and some had gone to sleep on shore in the sun. He spoke to one who had a beautiful green head and shiny blue feathers in his wings. “Good morning,” he said timidly.
“Eh? What?” quacked the duck in his hoarse voice, ruffling his feathers angrily. “Oh, a rabbit. Good morning.”
“Slyfoot the Mink lives here,” warned Nibble. “You might be caught before you know.”
“Thank you,” said the duck “we’re going South in half an hour.”
“Won’t the wind tip you?” Nibble meant to be kind.
“Ho, ho,” laughed the duck. “You’ve been talking to the quail. Of course not. We’re Mallards. We fly faster than the wind. Now I’ll tell you something. This wind is carrying more than ducks. Can’t you smell it?”
Nibble sat up and sniffed very carefully. “It’s queer and dry,” he said, “and it seems to make my fur want to stand on end.”