They all ran under their mother as quick as a wink. She ruffled her long grayish hair above them. When the animal jumped at her she growled, and hissed, and scratched, and bit, till he ran limping away.
On another evening a big dog came galloping up before they could scramble into a tree. His red tongue was hanging out of his mouth between his white teeth. As soon as he caught sight of the opossums he made a dash to catch them. Instantly they all fell down and rolled over just as if they were dead.
There they lay, with their eyes shut, their paws limber, their tails limp. They seemed to stop breathing. The dog smelled them and pushed them with his cold nose.
But they kept perfectly still and did not move even an eyelash. They were pretending to be dead. It was one trick that they all knew without being taught.
The minute the dog walked away they all jumped up and scampered into a tree. When the dog turned his head and saw them he ran back and leaped up to reach them.
But all the opossums were safe enough now. While he was jumping and barking below they clung fast in the tree with their hand-like feet. They wound their tails about the branches above to hold more securely.
The little opossums learned to climb all sorts of trees, rough or smooth. It was easier to climb the rough trees because they could dig their nails farther into the bark.
The biggest baby could walk along the springiest limb, even if it kept teetering up and down in the wind. When he felt like it he swung by his tail the longest time without getting dizzy.
All summer long the twelve little opossums stayed with their mother. During the day they slept cuddled in the hollow tree. Every night, after sunset, the mother and her twelve children set off on their hunting.