Natalie glided to her side, while the queer thumping sound continued.
CHAPTER XII
THE GIRLS WILL TRY
“My vase!” gasped Natalie. “He’ll break it!”
“I guess that’s the only way to get it off his head,” answered Mrs. Bonnell, still laughing. “Poor little fellow! He must have thought it contained something good to eat.”
This is what the two saw.
A little raccoon was backing about the platform under the eating table, his head thrust into the now dried neck of the clay vase which Natalie had moulded. She had brought it up on the boards, under the canvas, to keep the dew from moistening it.
The raccoon, either through curiosity or hunger, had thrust his slender snout into the opening, and now could not withdraw it. It went just far enough over his eyes so that he could not see, and the creature was rushing aimlessly about, doubtless wondering what queer trap he had blundered into. The banging of the clay vase against the legs of the sawhorses which held the table boards, and the thumping on the wooden floor had aroused the sleepers.
“I’m going to get my vase!” exclaimed Natalie determinedly as she thrust her feet into a pair of bathing shoes and glided from the tent.
“Come back!” cried Mrs. Bonnell! “He’ll bite you!”