Under the wood pile, the young wood pussies were more lively than ever. It was four weeks since they were born, and their eyes were open; also their tender legs were growing strong enough to support their little furry bodies.
The fat black one with the white stripes on his head and neck—the one who had had such a rough journey with the mother the night she tried to move the family to the woodchuck’s burrow, was still the largest. He lay now on his back as usual, apparently fast asleep. It did not seem to matter to him how many times the others climbed over him or stepped on his face. But with the first step of the mother in the entrance, he was on his feet and waddling towards her with hungry little mouth open. She liked the little fellow and rarely disappointed him. And it was he who a year later became known as “Striped Coat” from one end of Goose Creek to the other—yes, and even further, for fame travels fast in the woods.
At five weeks of age he was like a little black ball of fur with a handle to it, which was his tail. His teeth were strong by that time and he often helped the others strip the feathers off some tough old blackbird or crow which the Farmer had shot in the field and left there, and which the mother had dragged under the brushpile for a feast. No matter how dead the bird, he would always pounce upon it as if it might escape, then pull and worry at its feathers and finally seize it by the head and try to drag it to a corner, away from the others.
This always caused a big rumpus. The others would seize the bird and try to pull it in the other direction. All four tugging together on one end could drag Striped Coat all about the place, and they always did this. But while it was going on, Striped Coat was as busy as a bee chewing on the bird’s neck and swallowing just as much as he could get into his mouth at a time, until he was as solidly stuffed as a plum pudding. No wonder he slept soundly all day sprawled on his stomach, or with all four feet up in the air. Life under the brush pile was a happy one.
CHAPTER V
THE BURNING WOODS
One fine day the Mother uncurled herself and sat up in the nest to sniff the air. The young ones awoke one by one, and sniffed too, that is, all except Striped Coat whose four black paws still pointed at the sky as he lay on his back sleeping off the effects of his last stuffing. There was a smell of smoke. Farmer Slown, true to his threat, was burning the brush piles.
Soon the smoke drifted past in masses, driven by a brisk breeze blowing towards Goose Creek. There was a crackling and snapping noise, with now and then a roar when the flames leaped high. Even the sun lost its brilliancy and could only glow dully like a red hot ball in the smoke.
The mother wood pussy walked about uneasily, looking out at the smoke from each peep hole in the brush pile. Some of the woods folk were running by in a stupid panicky way, looking this way and that, and often turning back when they should have gone only forward. Bun, the woods rabbit, actually came into the den and crouched there a moment before rushing on. Possum, his long mouth open and dripping saliva, shuffled in a moment later. Ignoring the skunks he curled up on a log and watched in sour silence.
Mice and little sharp nosed shrews were hopping about like big grasshoppers with apparently no idea of the right direction. At first the Farmer had chased these with his rake. Now, however, the smoke was too thick, the fire had spread far beyond his control and was threatening to sweep the whole wood. The Farmer’s one idea was to stop the flames before they reached his buildings. He worked frantically, digging and raking, stamping and beating until the fire in a great wave had swept with the wind all the way to Goose Creek and there had been checked by the water.
Meanwhile its fiery breath reached one brush pile after another, licking them up and sweeping on. The mother wood pussy waited as long as she dared, then panicky from the roar, the stifling smoke and the heat, she seized one of the young ones and tried to carry it out. It was heavy and slippery, she lost her hold and blinded by the smoke could not find it. Returning she seized first one, then another and then in her excitement tried to carry two out together. This failed. But her efforts and fear aroused the young ones, they understood that they had to flee from their home. So when the mother was forced by the smoke to move out, the young ones trooped after her on their own legs, making a long line of black and white stripes as each followed the tail of the one ahead.