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Way ’long late toward the morning he woke up. His furry feet were tickling. So were his ears. And presently his shoulders tickled, too, where the fur stood straight up on them. Something was gnawing the floor of his cage.

“Who’s there?” he called softly. And oh, how he did pray it might be the field-mouse who had shown him the way through Ouphe’s tunnels! He could see the haystack where the wicked Rat lived, but it was so dark that that was all he could see.

“It’s I,” said the honey voice of Ouphe. “I’ve come to show you what can be done about it. I’m sorry to be late, but I had to attend to a little business with Chirp Sparrow.” The words were all right, but the way he said them was enough to make your skin crawl.

“What are you going to do?” demanded Nibble.

“I’m going to have breakfast with you,” said Ouphe. “I’m going to make a nice little door so I can come in and we’ll have a cozy time. I love little rabbits, I do.” And Nibble knew very well the way he loved them—like Slink the Weasel. For no wild beast needs to be warned against any one who has the horrid musky, flesh-eater’s smell about him. And Nibble smelled Ouphe.