situation. I was at the very mouth of his burrow. It was coming to sure
death for him to attempt to get in. Yet it was sure death if he did not
get in, for I should run him down.

Had you been that woodchuck, gentle reader, I wonder if you would have
taken account of the thick-strewn stones behind you, the dense tangle of
dewberry-vines off on your left, the heavy boots of your enemy and his
unthinking rage?

I was vastly mistaken in that woodchuck. A blanker, flabbier face never
looked into mine. Only the sudden appearance of death could have brought
the trace of intelligence across it that I caught as the creature dropped
on all fours and began to wabble straight away from me over the area of
rough, loose stones.

With a jump and a yell I was after him, making five yards to his one. He
tumbled along the best he could, and, to my great surprise, directly away
from his hole. It was steep downhill. I should land upon him in half a
dozen bounds more.

On we went, reckless of the uneven ground, momentum increasing with every
jump, until, accurately calculating his speed and the changing distance
between us, I rose with a mighty leap, sailed into the air and came
down--just an inch too far ahead--on a round stone, turned my ankle, and
went sprawling over the woodchuck in a heap.

The woodchuck spilled himself from under me, slid short about, and
tumbled off for home by way of the dewberry-patch.

He had made a good start before I was righted and again in motion. Now it