f her injury was received with
sorrow at the farm-house; and when, later in the evening, the little
girl's big brothers went down to the field to put the heifer out of her
misery, they vowed that the last feeble jingle of her bells should be
the death-knell of the badgers.

They found that the burrowing host, driven out of their former homes
either by an unlooked-for seepage or the advent of a stronger animal,
had been attracted to the field because the harrow had so recently
broken and softened the fallow, and had dug so rapidly since the
planting of a few weeks before, that the north end, perforated every
three or four feet, would be utterly useless, that year at least, for
either the harvester or the plow. Each family had dug two tunnels that
slanted toward each other and met at the nest. And since the tunnels of
one family often crossed those of another, the ground was treacherously
unstable. The outlying, unplowed land also bore, mile upon mile, marks
of the ravages of an army of badgers; but the north end of the
wheat-field was the concentration camp.

The badgers had thrived in their new home, for on one side was a grassy
rise where the eggs and young of the plover and prairie-chicken could be
found; and, on the other, a gully led down to the sloughs that yielded
succulent roots and crawling things. The little girl's big brothers saw
that the animals were so abundant that shot, traps, or poison would not
avail--only a thorough drowning-out would rid the grain-land of the
pest.

The attack was planned for the following day. It would be timely, since
four feet beneath the surface were the newly born, half-blind litters
that could be wiped out by a flood. Some of the old badgers would,
undoubtedly, escape the deluge and get past the dogs, but they would be
driven away to hunt other ground for their tunneling.

The next afternoon, when the farm wagon, creaking under its load of
water-barrels and attended by the dogs, was driven down to the badger
holes in the field, the little girl went along. Drownings-out were
exciting affairs, for the badgers always gave the pack a fine tussle
before they were despatched; and she was allowed to attend them if she
would promise to remain on the high seat of the wagon, out of harm's
way.

When the team had been brought to a standstill on the cow-path, she
watched the preparations for the drowning from her perch.

Two holes were found that slanted toward each other. One big br