Now you see what made Fatty Coon feel so queer and uncomfortable. He had first eaten his dried apples. And then he had soaked them, by drinking out of the brook. It was no wonder that his sides stuck out, for the apples that he had bolted were swelling and puffing him out until he felt that he should burst. In fact, the wonder of it was that he was able to get through his mother's doorway, when he reached home.
But he did it, though it cost him a few groans. And he frightened his mother, too.
"I only hope you're not poisoned," she said, when Fatty told her what he had been doing.
And that remark frightened Fatty more than ever. He was sure he was never going to feel any better.
Poor Mrs. Coon was much worried all the rest of the night. But when morning came she knew that Fatty was out of danger. She knew it because of something he said. It was this:
"Oh, dear! I wish I had something to eat!"
XX
THE TRACKS IN THE SNOW
One fine winter's day Fatty Coon came upon the queerest tracks in the snow. They were huge—a great deal bigger, even, than bear-tracks, which Fatty had sometimes seen, for once in a while, before the weather grew too cold, and he fell into his winter's sleep, a bear would come down into the valley from his home on Blue Mountain.
But these were six times as big as bear tracks. And Fatty felt a shiver of fear run up and down his back.