One day, after dinner, Charles came running into the house all out of breath, saying there was a little child in the woods.
“How do you know?” said Ben.
“I have seen its tracks and its bare foot-prints in the snow. O, father! do come and help me find it; it will freeze to death.”
“It is not a child’s track, Charles.”
“What is it?”
“It is a raccoon track thawed out; they look like a child’s track.”
“What is a raccoon, father?”
“They are about twice as large as Sailor, and live in the woods on mice, fish, and berries. I will show you one some day.”
“May I shoot him; me and Fred?”