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And Bread Nibbler, their king, shouted to them: "Fall upon the cowardly frogs, and leave not one alive upon the bank of the pond. Henceforth that bank is ours, and ours only. Forward!" And, on the other side, Puff jaw was urging the frogs to battle. "Let us take our places on the edge of the pond," he said, "and when the mice come amongst us, let each catch hold of one and throw him into the pond.

If they are living in a barn, they make their nest of hay and any soft material they can find. "While Nibbler prefers to live in or close to the homes of men, he sometimes is driven out and then takes to the fields, especially in summer. There he lives in all sorts of hiding places, and isn't at all particular what the place is, if it promises safety and food can be obtained close by.

In each cheek is a pocket opening from the outside, and these pockets are lined with hair. He is called Silky Pocket Mouse because of the fineness and softness of his coat. He has some larger cousins, one of them being a little bigger than Nibbler the House Mouse. Neighbors and close relatives are the Spiny Pocket Mice." "Do they have spines like Prickly Porky?" demanded Peter Rabbit.

"That's all right," grumbled Frenchy, who had just lost a nibbler, "but a two-pound one will satisfy me. What would we do with a sixty-four-pound bass?" "Keep it alive and teach it to draw a little red wagon," chuckled Ikey. "Oi, oi! That would be fine!" "It would be as big as Dugan's goat. Don't know why it shouldn't be tackled up and made use of," Whistler agreed, dryly.

If I know it to be a noble one I shall show you my kingly friendship." The mouse, speaking haughtily, said: "I am Crumb Snatcher, and my race is a famous one. My father is the heroic Bread Nibbler, and he married Quern Licker, the lovely daughter of a king. Like all my race I am a warrior who has never been wont to flinch in battle.

Then Cabbage Climber, a great-hearted frog, took up a clod of mud and flung it full at a mouse that was coming furiously upon him. That mouse's helmet was knocked off and his forehead was plastered with the clod of mud, so that he was well-nigh blinded. It was then that victory inclined to the frogs. Bread Nibbler again came into the fray. He rushed furiously upon Puff jaw the king.

Unless the nut had shrunk, the hole was not large enough to pull the kernel out all at once; it must have been eaten little by little in many mouthfuls. The same amount of nibbling would have sawn a circle round the nut, and so, dividing the shell in two, would have let the kernel out bodily a plan more to our fancy; but the mouse is a nibbler, and he preferred to nibble, nibble, nibble.

He is quite as much at home in bushes and low trees as Happy Jack Squirrel is in bigger trees. His long tail comes in very handy then, for he often wraps it around a twig to make his footing more secure. "Now this is all about the native Mice and what is it, Peter?" "You've forgotten Nibbler the House Mouse," replied Peter.

"Have any of you seen Nibbler?" asked Old Mother Nature. "I have," replied Danny Meadow Mouse. "Once I was carried to Farmer Brown's barn in a shock of corn and I found Nibbler living in the barn." "It is a wonder he wasn't living in Farmer Brown's house," said Old Mother Nature. "Probably other members of his family were.

Not upon the hard shells on the backs of the crabs did the spears of the mice make any dint. On and on, on their queer feet and with their terrible nippers, the crabs went. Bread Nibbler could not rally them any more, and Slice Snatcher ceased to speak of the monument of victory that the mice would erect upon the bank of the pond.