"Come on down and let's see you die," he requested. "My friend has never seen a 'possum play dead."
"No, indeed, Mr. Collie. I don't know your friend—and I don't think I care to. He's a hunting dog. But I'll die right here on this branch, if that will amuse you."
So Mr. 'Possum threw himself into a wonderful attitude and looked as dead as dead could be. His head hung over the branch and his mouth lolled open, and his little paws were all curled up.
"How queer!" Setter Pup exclaimed. "I suppose he's satisfied that nobody but a buzzard would touch him now. What a dandy trick!"
"It fools 'em, all right," said Collie Dog, who always delighted in this performance.
Then Mr. 'Possum winked a sly wink and slid like a big rat along the branch to a hollow place in the tree.
"He's gone in. Probably his wife wanted him."
And then Collie Dog was off again, bounding and racing across the field, with Setter Pup keeping beside him.
Miles they went, through the country. Young Setter Pup saw more than he ever had guessed could be seen. There was Mr. Blacksnake, who raced like mad over the leaves, making an astonishing noise. He carried his head very high and went such a zigzag course that the dogs lost sight of him.
"He's an ugly fellow, too, but he can't hurt you. He makes a funny noise with his tail, rattling it on the leaves if you corner him. He wants you to think he's a rattlesnake. But it's only a clever trick," said Collie Dog. "Sometimes on that sandy piece of road we've just passed, we'll come across Mr. Hognose. He's a queer little snake. He can scare you terribly by puffing and blowing, so that you would think he was very dangerous. But he can't bite at all, nor hurt you as much as a cat. He plays off at being dead too, just like Mr. 'Possum. But he never crawls out till the sun is high. He likes the heat. I've met him a great many times, but always when it was hot."