only the little ones, down there all by themselves, he thought, they
would have been frightened enough to jump. So, it was plainly a trap.
Waving his great bushy tail complaisantly, he tiptoed off to hunt
rabbits, pleased with the notion that somebody else was going to get
taken in.

"The youngsters stayed where they were, close beside the water. The
first glimmer of dawn, striking on the misty surface of the pool
outside, struggled up into the den. The youngsters turned to greet it,
with the thought, perhaps, that it was time to go fishing. Just at
this moment the mink, who had been looking for the remnants of his
trout where he had left them on the bank (he was a fool, of course,
ever to have left them there), came diving into the deep front door of
the den to avenge himself on the unprotected little ones. His slim
black form was visible as it rose through the greying water. As the
pointed head popped above the surface, it was confronted by two
grinning heads which snarled savagely in its face and snapped at it in
fearless defiance. The mink was surprised and pained. He had expected
to find those two youngsters huddled together and already half
frightened to death just at being alone. He had _not_ expected to find
them half so big. In fact, there at home, and guarding their own
domain, they looked to him much bigger than they really were. A very
small man, you know, may look about seven feet high when he stands in
his own door and tells you to keep out. Eh, what? Well, the mink
suddenly felt sort of bashful about intruding. He discreetly withdrew,
without thinking to make inquiry about the fish. And his sudden
diffidence was very fortunate for the two Little Furry Ones. For the
mink, let me tell you, would have been a tough proposition for them to
tackle.