inborn savageness that must have surprised even himself.

Another home lesson was on the red-squirrel. One of these noisy,
vulgar creatures, lived close by and used to waste part of each day
scolding the foxes, from some safe perch. The cubs made many
vain attempts to catch him as he ran across their glade from one
tree to an other, or spluttered and scolded at them a foot or so out
of reach. But old Vixen was up in natural history--she knew
squirrel nature and took the case in hand when the proper time
came. She hid the children and lay down flat in the middle of the
open glade. The saucy low-minded squirrel came and scolded as
usual. But she moved no hair. He came nearer and at last right over
head to chatter:

"You brute you, you brute you."

But Vix lay as dead. This was very perplexing, so the squirrel
came down the trunk and peeping about made a nervous dash
across the grass, to another tree, again to scold from a safe perch.

"You brute you, you useless brute, scarrr-scarrrr."

But flat and lifeless on the grass lay Vix. Ths was most tantilizing
to the squirrel. He was naturally curious and disposed to be
venturesome, so again he came to the ground and scurried across
the glade nearer than before. Still as death lay Vix, "surely she was
dead." And the little foxes began to wonder if their mother wasn't
asleep.

But the squirrel was working himself into a little craze of