The bird was close behind him. Her wings were half closed, just wide enough to steer by. She had fallen, like a shooting star, out of the sky. When she spread out her wings and tail to stop herself, just as she reached the ground, the wind roared in her feathers.
Stripes raised his head. He saw the big hooked beak, the strong curved claws of a hawk reach down. “These birds are just bound to kill me,” he thought. “This one is big enough. Even Bob White won’t dare to stop it.” All the same, he wished Bob would try. He was tired of fighting all alone.
But the hawk was only reaching for the earth. She gave the snake a shake, cocked her eye knowingly at Stripes, and said, “Whee-ee! but that must have been a fight!”
Stripes lifted his nose from his paws. He couldn’t help feeling proud to be spoken to like that. “It certainly was,” he answered.
The hawk nodded. “I put that crook in his tail three years ago,” she explained. “He was a clawful then. He’s bigger now. I ought to have been here to help you. You’re feeling a little tired. Suppose I tear him up a bit and you eat some. How does that sound?”
“He’s bitten me. I’m just waiting to die,” said Stripes. “I don’t feel like eating.”
“Broken sticks and addled eggs!” exclaimed the hawk, grinning. “Didn’t you know he wasn’t that kind of a snake? He can only choke you. Do you mean to say that you’d fight a great big snake like that thinking it could kill you if it bit you?”
Stripes Skunk looked more proudly than ever at the long stretch of crook tailed snake that lay between them. “I didn’t fight it on purpose,” he explained. “It was bothering a bird. And I was trying to be friends with them. The bird it was bothering was the only one besides the quails who’d trust me. So of course I tried to kill it. I’ve killed lots of little ones, but I didn’t know how big this one was till I got hold of it. It did the queerest things.” Stripes craned his neck about. It felt pretty stiff where the snake had been choking him.
“Cac, cac!” chuckled the hawk. “I might have known you weren’t a regular snake killer by the size of your claws. Mine are twice as long. And much sharper, too. You spoil the edges of yours walking along the ground.”
“I know I do,” said Stripes. “A young bobcat showed me his once—he was afraid to eat me. They’re ’most as nice as yours. He has little slits in his paws where he hides them. But they’re no use for digging.”