“If a hunter should attack me, I would drop down and play that I was dead,” was the answer.
“Once Snowball pretended to be asleep when Billy Beaver called him,” said Tiny. “Billy said that Snowball was ‘playing ’possum.’ Now I know what he meant.”
“I suppose that the opossum is not the only animal that tries to deceive,” said the opossum, with a yawn.
“I see that you are sleepy,” said the squirrel. “I must go to my home. I wonder why animals are so impolite as to yawn when they are entertaining company.”
“Perhaps it would be better for you to say goodby before your entertainers tire of you,” retorted the opossum.
This advice was a golden gift to Tiny. He never forgot it. With a courteous farewell, he hastened down the trunk of the tree. When he reached the ground, he stopped a moment to gaze overhead. The opossum was asleep among the branches.
“He had better be sleeping than killing birds,” said Tiny, gratefully. “I shall visit the opossum often and keep him out of mischief. This afternoon has been well spent. I have stood between the birds and their enemy.”
