"Now, the other youngster had not been able, just at first, to make out
what was happening. He thought his sister had gone down to the bottom
for fun. But when he saw her coming up, locked in that deadly struggle
with their old enemy, his heart swelled with fury. He sprang clear out
into the deep water when the struggling pair reached the surface,
lashing and splashing, and the mink had only bare time to snatch a
single breath of air before he found another adversary on his back, and
was borne down inexorably to the bottom.

"Just about this time a perfectly new idea flashed across the mink's
mind, and it startled him. For the first time in his life he thought
that perhaps he was a fool. Young otters seemed to be so much older
than he had imagined them, so much more unreasonable and bad-tempered,
and to have so many teeth. It was a question, he decided--while he was
being mauled around among the water weeds--that would bear some
thinking over. He wanted to think about it right away. There was no
time like the present for digesting these new ideas. Seeing a big root
sticking out of the bank, close to the bottom, with a tremendous effort
he clawed himself under it and scraped off his antagonists. Shooting
out on the other side, he darted off like an eel through the water
grass, and hurried away up stream to a certain hollow log he knew,
where he might lick his bites and meditate undisturbed. The two Little
Furry Ones stared after him for a moment, then crawled out upon the
bank and lay down in the sunny grass."

Uncle Andy got up with an air of decision. "Let's go catch some fish,"
he said. "They ought to be beginning to rise about now, over by Spring
Brook."

"But what became of the two Little Furry Ones after that?" demanded the