"Where's that?"
"I don't know, and you needn't bother; for the Men said it was a place for the good, only."
Beaver's fat sides fairly shook as he chuckled delightedly over the snub Carcajou had given Jack.
"Ha, ha!" roared Bear; "Sweet Berries! but Humpback is too many for you, Birdie," and the woods echoed with his laughter.
"Rats!" screamed the Jay; "that's the subject under discussion. Our friend wanders from his theme trying to be personal."
"Oh, nobody's personal here," sighed Lynx. "I'm a 'Slink,' but that doesn't count."
"Yes, talking of Rats," recommenced Carcajou, "like Lynx, I admire our busy little Brother, Beaver, though I never ate one in my life--"
"Pisew did!" chirruped the bird-voice from over their heads.
"Though I never ate one," solemnly repeated Wolverine; "but if Umisk won't do for King, there is no use discussing Wuchusk's chances. He has all Trowel Tail's failings, without his great wisdom, and even can't build a decent house, though he lives in one. Half the time he hasn't anything to eat for his family; you'll see him skirmishing about Winter or Summer, eating Roots, or, like our friends Mink and Otter, chasing Fish. Anyway, I get tired of that horrible odour of musk always. His house smells as bad as a Trapper's Shack with piles of fur in it--I hate people who use musk, it shows bad taste; and to carry a little bag of it around with one all the time--it's detestable!"
"You should take a trip to the Barren Lands, my fastidious friend, as I did once," interposed Mooswa, "and get a whiff of the Musk Ox. Much Fodder! it turned my stomach."