Cutey his sisters, were all fast asleep. He was glad, because he knew
that no crow could follow him down there.

Mrs. Coon waked up. She saw that Fatty's back was sadly torn (for coons,
you know, can see in the dark just as well as you can see in the
daylight).

"What on earth is the matter?" she exclaimed.

Poor Fatty told her. He cried a little, because his back hurt him, and
because he was so glad to be safe at home once more.

"What color were those eggs?" Mrs. Coon inquired.

"White!" said Fatty.

"Ah, ha!" Mrs. Coon said. "Don't you remember that crows' eggs are a
blueish green? That must have been a goshawk's nest. And a goshawk is
the fiercest of all the hawks there are. It's no wonder your back is
clawed. Come here and let me look at it."

Fatty Coon felt quite proud, as his mother examined the marks of the
goshawk's cruel claws. And he didn't feel half as sorry for himself as
you might think, for he remembered how good the eggs had tasted. He only
wished there had been a dozen of them.




III