umpy Weasel hadn't been so angry perhaps he wouldn't have been so
eager to prove himself right. While Fatty watched him he bounded across
the farmyard and stopped at the doorway of the tiny house. And then he
bounded back again, a great deal faster, with old dog Spot yelping
behind him.

Fatty Coon did not wait for anything more. He made for the woods at top
speed, grinning as he went.

The next day he pretended to be surprised to meet Grumpy.

"You must have forgotten my advice," he said. "I promised you that there
would be a capture if you ran slowly. But it's plain that you ran too
fast, or you wouldn't be here."

"Nonsense!" Grumpy Weasel shouted, flying into a passion at once. And he
often wondered, afterward, what Fatty Coon found to laugh at.

XVIII

POP! GOES THE WEASEL

There were many things that did not please Grumpy Weasel--things that
almost any one else would have liked. For instance, there was music. The
Pleasant Valley Singing Society, to which most of the bird people
belonged, did not number Grumpy Weasel among its admirers. He never
cared to hear a bird sing--not even Jolly Robin's cousin the Hermit, who
was one of the most beautiful singers in the woods. And as for Buddy
Brown Thrasher, whom most people thought a brilliant performer, Grumpy
Weasel always groaned whenever he heard him singing in the topmost
branches of a tree.

A bird-song--according to Grumpy Weasel--was of use in only one way: it
told you where the bird was. And that was a help, of course, if you were
trying to catch him.

Nor did the musical Frog family's nightly concerts have much charm for
Grumpy, though he did admit that some of their songs were not so bad as
others.

"I can stand it now and then," he said, "to hear a good, glum croaking,
provided there are plenty of discords."

Naturally, knowing how he felt, Grumpy Weasel's neighbors never invited
him to listen to their concerts. On the contrary they usually asked him
please to go away, if he happened to come along. Certainly nobody could
sing his best, with such a listener.

As a rule Grumpy Weasel was glad to go on about his business, though to
be sure he hated to oblige anybody. But one day he stopped and scolded
at the top of his voice when he came upon the Woodchuck brothers
whistling in the pasture.

Their whistles quavered a bit when they noticed who was present. And
they moved a little nearer their front door, in order to dodge out of
sight if