been an autumn of little rain, so that many ponds had dried up,
with the result that hundreds of muskrats were forced out to seek
more habitable quarters. The first time Rolf saw one of these
stranded mariners on its overland journey, he gave heedless
chase. At first it made awkward haste to escape; then a second
muskrat was discovered just ahead, and a third. This added to
Rolf's interest. In a few bounds he was among them, but it was to
get a surprise. Finding themselves overtaken, the muskrats turned
in desperation and attacked the common enemy with courage and
fury. Rolf leaped over the first, but the second sprang, caught
him by the slack of the trouser leg, and hung on. The third flung
itself on his foot and drove its sharp teeth through the
moccasin. Quickly the first rallied and sprang on his other leg
with all the force of its puny paws, and powerful jaws.

Meanwhile Quonab was laughing aloud and holding back Skookum,
who, breathing fire and slaughter, was mad to be in the fight.

"Ho! a good fight! good musquas! Ho, Skookum, you must not always
take care of him, or he will not learn to go alone.

"Ugh, good!" as the third muskrat gripped Rolf by the calf.

There could be but one finish, and that not long delayed. A
well-placed kick on one, the second swung by the tail, the third
crushed under his heel, and the affair ended. Rolf had three
muskrats and five cuts. Quonab had much joy and Skookum a sense
of lost opportunity.

"This we should paint on the wigwam," said Quonab. "Three great