"Oh, well," said Mr. Savage Bear, "it doesn't matter much. Mr. 'Possum will do just as well. So fine and fat, I am told—I was quite reminded of one of Mr. Man's pigs I once enjoyed."
WHEN MR. 'POSSUM HEARD THAT HE FAINTED DEAD AWAY
When Mr. 'Possum heard that he fainted dead away, but was not so far gone that he couldn't hear what Mr. Crow said. Mr. Crow wiped his eyes with a new handkerchief before he said anything.
"Oh, Mr. Bear," he called back, "it's so sad about Mr. 'Possum. We shall never see his like again. He had such a grand figure, and such a good appetite—and to think it should prove his worst enemy."
"Why—what's the matter—what's happened? You don't mean to say—"
"Yes, that's it—the appetite was too strong for him—it carried him off. Mr. 'Coon and I did our best to supply it. That is what put Mr. 'Coon to bed and I am just a shadow of my old self. We worked to save our dear Mr. 'Possum. We hunted nights and we hunted days, to keep him in chicken pie with dumplings and gravy, but that beautiful appetite of his seemed to grow and grow until we couldn't keep up with it, this hard year, and one day our noble friend said:
"'Don't try any more—the more I eat the more I want—good-by.'"
Mr. Crow wiped his eyes again, while Mr. Bear grumbled to himself something about a nice state of affairs; but pretty soon he seemed to listen, for Mr. 'Possum was smacking his lips, thinking of those chicken pies Mr. Crow had described, and Mr. Bear has very quick ears.
"Mr. Crow," he said, "do you think Mr. 'Possum is really as dead as he might be?"