he trees above them were singing '_sleep, sleep,_'
and away out on a sunken log in the deep water, up to his chin in the
cooling bath, a bloated bullfrog was singing the praises of a '_jug o'
rum._'

"Follow me still," said Molly, in rabbit, and 'flop' she went into the
pond and struck out for the sunken log in the middle. Rag flinched but
plunged with a little 'ouch,' gasping and wobbling his nose very fast
but still copying his mother. The same movements as on land sent him
through the water, and thus he found he could swim. On he went till he
reached the sunken log and scrambled up by his dripping mother on the
high dry end, with a rushy screen around them and the Water that tells
no tales. After this in warm, black nights, when that old fox from
Springfield came prowling through the Swamp, Rag would note the place of
the bullfrog's voice, for in case of direst need it might be a guide to
safety. And thenceforth the words of the song that the bullfrog sang
were, '_Come, come, in danger come_.'

This was the latest study that Rag took up with his mother-it was really
a post-graduate course, for many little rabbits never learn it at all.

VI

No wild animal dies of old age. Its life has soon or late a tragic end.
It is only a question of how long it can hold out against its foes. But
Rag's life was proof that once a rabbit passes out of his youth he is
likely to outlive his prime and be killed only in the last third of
life, the downhill third we call old age.

The Cottontails had enemies on every side. Their daily life was a series
of escapes. For dogs, foxes, cats, skunks, coons, weasels, minks,
snakes, hawks, owls, and men, and even insects were all plotting to
kill them. They had hundreds of adventures, and at least once a day they
had to fly for their lives and save themselves by their legs and wits.

More than once that hateful fox from Springfield drove them to taking
refuge under the wreck of a barbed-wire hog-pen by the spring. But once
there they could look calmly at him while he spiked his legs in vain
attempts to reach them.

Once or twice Rag when hunted had played off the hound against a skunk
that had seemed likely to be quite as dangerous as the dog.

Once he was caught alive by a hunter who had a hound and a ferret to
help him. But Rag had the luck to escape next day, with a yet deeper
distrust of ground holes. He was several times run into the water by the
cat, and many times was chas