ans death. There is
just a chance, and the only one left, that the stranger may prove
friendly; and it was this last desperate chance that drew Jack Warhorse
to the Cows.

It is quite sure that the Cows would have stood by in stolid
indifference so far as the Rabbit was concerned, but they have a
deep-rooted hatred of a dog, and when they saw the Yellow Cur coming
bounding toward them, their tails and noses went up; they sniffed
angrily, then closed up ranks, and led by the Cow that owned the Calf,
they charged at the Dog, while Jack took refuge under a low thorn-bush.
The Dog swerved aside to attack the Calf, at least the old Cow thought
he did, and she followed him so fiercely that he barely escaped from
that field with his life.

It was a good old plan--one that doubtless came from the days when
Buffalo and Coyote played the parts of Cow and Dog. Jack never forgot
it, and more than once it saved his life.

In color as well as in power he was a rarity.

Animals are colored in one or other of two general plans: one that
matches them with their surroundings and helps them to hide--this is
called "protective"; the other that makes them very visible for several
purposes--this is called "directive." Jack-rabbits are peculiar in
being painted both ways. As they squat in their form in the gray brush
or clods, they are soft gray on their ears, head, back, and sides; they
match the ground and cannot be seen until close at hand--they are
protectively colored. But the moment it is clear to the Jack that the
approaching foe will find him, he jumps up and dashes away. He throws
off all disguise now, the gray seems to disappear; he makes a lightning
change, and his ears show snowy white with black tips, the legs are
white, his tail is a black spot in a blaze of white. He is a
black-and-white Rabbit now. His coloring is all directive. How is it
done? Very simply. The front side of the ear is gray, the back, black
and white. The black tail with its white halo, and the legs, are tucked
below. He is sitting on them. The gray mantle is pulled down and
enlarged as he sits, but when he jumps up it shrinks somewhat, all his
black-and-white marks are now shown, and just as his colors formerly
whispered, "I am a clod," they now shout aloud, "I am a Jack-rabbit."

Why should he do this? Why should a timid creature running for his life
thus proclaim to all the world his name instead of trying to hide?
There must be some good reason. It m