tion that
he could not get his coils around and crush it. What he expected to find
in the burrow which he entered so confidently was a satisfying meal,
followed by a long, safe sleep to companion digestion.

As he trailed along the winding of the tunnel, his motion made a faint,
dry, whispering sound. This delicate sound, together with his peculiar,
sickly, elusive scent, travelled just before him, and reached the
doorway of the little chamber where the shrew was sleeping. The sleeper
awoke,--wide awake all at once, as it behoves the wild kindreds to be.
Instantly, too, he understood the whole peril, and that it was even now
upon him. There was no time for flight. To do him justice, it was not
flight he thought of, but fight. His little heart swelled with rage at
this invasion of his rest. Experienced fighter that he was, he fully
understood the advantages of his situation. As the head of the invader
stole past his doorway, he sprang, and sank his long, punishing teeth
deep into the back of the snake's neck.

With this hold the advantage was all his, so long as he could maintain
it; and he hung to the grip like a bulldog, biting deeper and deeper
every minute. Fettered completely by the narrowness of the tunnel,
unable to lash or coil or strike, the snake could only writhe impotently
and struggle to drag his adversary farther down the burrow toward some
roomier spot where his own tactics would have a chance. But the shrew
was not to be dislodged from his point of vantage. He clung to his
doorway no less doggedly than he clung to his hold; and all the while
his deadly teeth were biting deeper in. At last, they found the
backbone,--and bit it through. With a quiver the writhing of the big
snake stopped.

Victor though he was, the shrew was slow to accept conviction of his
victory over so mighty an antagonist. Though all resistance had ceased,
he kept on gnawing and worrying, till he had succeeded in completely
severing the head from the trunk. Then, feeling that his triumph was
secured, he turned back into his chamber and curled up again to resume
his rudely interrupted siesta.

Having thus effectually established his lordship of the burrows, this
small champion might have reasonably expected to enjoy an undisturbed
and unanxious slumber. But Fate is pitilessly whimsical in its dealings
with the wild kindreds. It chanced at this time that a red fox came
trotting down along the pasture fence. He seemed to have a very v