domain on all sides. But they still clung to the dwindling Swamp,
for it was their home and they were loath to move to foreign parts.
Their life of daily perils went on, but they were still fleet of foot,
long of wind, and bright of wit. Of late they had been somewhat
troubled by a mink that had wandered upstream to their quiet
nook. A little judicious guidance had transferred the
uncomfortable visitor to Olifant's hen-house. But they were not yet
quite sure that he had been properly looked after. So for the
present they gave up using the ground-holes, which were, of
course, dangerous blind-alleys, and stuck closer than ever to the
briers and the brush-piles that were left.

That first snow had quite gone and the weather was bright and
warm until now. Molly, feeling a touch of rheumatism, was
somewhere in the lower thicket seeking a teaberry tonic. Rag was
sitting in the weak sunlight on a bank in the east side. The smoke
from the familiar gable chimney of Olifant's house came fitfully
drifting a pale blue haze through the underwoods and showing as a
dull brown against the brightness of the sky. The sun-gilt gable
was cut off midway by the banks of brier brush, that, purple in
shadow, shone like rods of blazing crimson and gold in the light.
Beyond the house the barn with its gable and roof, new gift at the
house, stood up like a Noah's ark.

The sounds that came from it, and yet more the delicious smell
that mingled with the smoke, told Rag that the animals were being
fed cabbage in the yard. Rags mouth watered at the idea of the
feast. He blinked and blinked as he snuffed its odorous promises,
for he loved cabbage dearly. But then he had been to the barnyard
the night before after a few paltry clover-tops, and no wise rabbit