aced him.

Oochak had come from the other side of the log, and stood not more than
six feet distant. To one who knew as little of his history as Miki
there was nothing at all ferocious about him. He was shaped like his
cousins, the weazel, the mink, and the skunk. He was about half as high
as Miki, and fully as long, so that his two pairs of short legs seemed
somewhat out of place, as on a dachshund. He probably weighed between
eight and ten pounds, had a bullet head, almost no ears, and atrocious
whiskers. Also he had a bushy tail and snapping little eyes that seemed
to bore clean through whatever he looked at. To Miki his accidental
presence was a threat and a challenge. Besides, Oochak looked like an
easy victim if it came to a fight. So he pulled back his lips and
snarled.

Oochak accepted this as an invitation for him to move on, and being a
gentleman who respected other people's preserves he made his apologies
by beginning a velvet-footed exit. This was too much for Miki, who had
yet to learn the etiquette of the forest trails. Oochak was afraid of
him. He was running away! With a triumphant yelp Miki took after him.
After all, it was simply a mistake in judgment. (Many two-footed
animals with bigger brains than Miki's had made similar mistakes.) For
Oochak, attending always to his own business, was, for his size and
weight, the greatest little fighter in North America.

Just what happened in the one minute that followed his assault Miki
would never be able quite to understand. It was not in reality a fight;
it was a one-sided immolation, a massacre. His first impression was
that he had tackled a dozen Oochaks instead of one. Beyond that first
impression his mind did not work, nor did his eyes visualize. He was
whipped as he would never be whipped again in his life. He was cut and
bruised and bitten; he was strangled and stabbed; he was so utterly
mauled that for a space after Oochak had gone he continued to rake the
air with his paws, unconscious of the fact that the affair was over.
When he opened his eyes, and found himself alone, he slunk into the
hollow log where he had cornered the rabbit.

In there he lay a good half hour, trying hard to comprehend just what
had happened. The sun was setting when he dragged himself out. He
limped. His one good ear was bitten clean through. There were bare
spots on his hide where Oochak had scraped the hair off. His bones
ached, his throat was sore, and there was a lump