hawk dropped like a
thunderbolt, caught him in its talons and rose swiftly into the air far
above the quiet pool. For a moment the big muskrat was stunned with the
force and suddenness of the attack; very soon, however, his wits
returned, and he squirmed sharply until the hawk had difficulty in
holding his prize.

A thoughtful Providence, in fashioning the muskrat tribe, has clothed
them in a skin which seems several times too large, a fact that is often
the means of saving their lives. The claws of the hawk had caught only
in the flabby, loose flesh, and with a sudden twist the big muskrat
pulled himself loose from the cruel grasp just as they passed over a
woodland stream. Fortunately for the rat, his captor was flying low and
before the hawk could again secure its prey the muskrat had fallen into
the stream. He sank like lead to the bottom and hid under an overhanging
bank. As for the hawk, with a scream of baffled rage it flew away,
knowing it would be useless to wait for the quarry to reappear.

For a long time the muskrat lay trembling in the darkness, with only
the tip of his nose above water. Then he swam warily to the edge of the
shadow and looked about. The stream was one that he had, at infrequent
intervals, visited before. As it held none of the attractions of the
home pool, he had always returned to his original haunts, relieved when
the journey by land was safely accomplished. Now he waited until sure
that his enemy had gone; then he climbed warily from the water,
crouching among the grass roots or under fallen logs at the least hint
of danger, but traveling as straight as if guided by a compass to his
own stream. There he slid happily into the water and entered his waiting
home, glad to rest and recover from his fright.

One day, not long after his adventure with the hawk, the big muskrat sat
in his favorite retreat under the birch roots, just below a spot where a
cold spring bubbled from the sand of the stream bed. He kept under water
as much as possible, only coming up to renew his supply of air. While he
idly watched the placid surface above, a gaudy fly dropped lightly upon
the water and lay still. As on that other day when the butterfly had met
its fate, a big trout rose at once to the lure.

The fly disappeared but, instead of swimming away, the trout began what
seemed to the muskrat a series of exceedingly queer antics. He made a
rush downstream near the surface, shaking his head from side to si