Two crows hung low on flapping wings just over his head, scolding and cursing him until his hair vibrated with fury. The pair of peewits goaded him to frenzy by attacking alternately from behind and before, while the stupid larks came and sat on the gate-post not far off to watch the fun.
He had to give up all hope of that speck on the thistle-top; but just to have seen it and to have got so near to it seemed to him, nevertheless, something of an adventure.
For a long time he wandered about in vain, sniffing the flowers, but at last, just by a heap of stones, he found a new brown speck. Had he been experienced and realized what he was after, he would perhaps have hesitated; as it was, he rejoiced in happy ignorance, and sprang.
The brown speck—which was a young weasel out on the same errand as himself—sprang with a whine into the air. It was instantly fully alive to its danger! Although thin as a lath and not longer than a mole, it showed him at once by its grin that it possessed teeth by no means inferior to his own.
But Black did not mean to be cheated of his spoil a second time; he attacked suddenly and recklessly, metamorphosed in a flash from a black shadow into a living, vicious beast.
With hair on end and eyes gleaming phosphorescent in the twilight, he made his spring.
The young weasel jumped aside, giving him at the same time a sharp little nip in the neck. Its methods resembled rather those of a pole-cat; for it did not attack openly, but kept darting in from the side and from behind with quick, cunning little feints.
The little vermin was possessed of a devil; but Black for the moment was possessed of two! He could be a young tiger when he chose—and, undaunted by the wound in his neck, he dealt the weasel a lightning blow with his forepaw, following it up with a murderous bite through the snout which rendered his enemy helpless.
The weasel writhed frenziedly in his grip; but the tiger-kitten killed it off-hand, as if it were a mere mouse. He thought that his spoil smelled rather strongly; but he was too young and hungry to be dainty....
He picks it up and makes for home ... arrives via ditch and furrow in the vicinity of the burial-mound. Anyone on the field-path? He is quite close to it, and knows he must cross it. In the ordinary way he prefers walking along it, but not when carrying booty. Supposing one of his brothers or sisters should meet him and try to take it from him! He wants to enjoy his meal in peace—with hide and hair and intestines and all! He has no wish to fight twice over for the same spoil; nor does he want to lose his feast and spoil the pleasure of victory by being compelled to share with others.