the rustling field, bearing down great quantities, merely
sampling their sweetness and leaving behind a wide swath of ruin.

The next morning when the farmer beheld the work of destruction, his
wrath was great and he vowed vengeance upon all the raccoon tribe. That
night he lay in wait at the edge of the field with his gun. No marauder
appeared, yet in the morning he found that a new section had been
visited. It looked as if a dozen raccoons had feasted. A grand hunt
followed, but Ringtail, safe in his hollow tree at the edge of the
tamarack swamp, heard the distant barking of the dogs without alarm.
The hunt swept off in another direction and quiet again fell upon the
wilderness.

Thus the summer with its long, sunny days and velvety nights sped by and
was succeeded by the moon of falling leaves. The air was tinged with
frost and the forest flamed with color. The cornfield no longer held a
lure for Ringtail, but the beech trees were dropping their little,
three-cornered nuts and the big raccoon was still fat and happy.

Late one night, when he had feasted well and was making his way slowly
homeward, he heard the barking of a dog. He paused in the trail to
listen. His sharp ears soon assured him that but a single enemy was upon
the trail and he started on again, not at all alarmed. He made good time
for so fat a fellow but it soon became apparent that he would be
overtaken before he could reach the home tree. Accordingly he sought out
a large beech tree and, backing up to its great trunk, waited for his
foe.

He did not have long to wait. A black and white dog soon burst into
view, nose to earth, and almost ran into the waiting Ringtail before he
became aware of the raccoon's presence. With a yelp of surprise Pal
halted so abruptly that he skidded in the dry leaves, while the big
raccoon hissed warningly. For a long moment the two eyed each other,
each seemingly unwilling to offer the offensive. Pal barked sharply, but
the sound produced no effect upon the raccoon. Then the dog began
circling the tree. Ringtail circled with him, always presenting a
formidable front.

Ordinarily the peace-loving canine would hardly have attacked the
raccoon, but the madness of the season was racing in the veins of the
Hermit's dog and he longed for heroic adventure. So, after slowly
circling the tree several times, he threw caution to the winds and
closed in. Ringtail was ready, and for a time there was an inextricable
tangle of r