THE WEASEL 81 



from my chickens? I seized my lantern, and 

 with my dog rushed out to where a pair of 

 nearly grown roosters passed the nights upon a 

 low stump. They were both gone, and the action 

 of the dog betrayed the fresh scent of some ani- 

 mal. But we could get no clue to the chickens 

 or their enemy. I felt sure that only one of the 

 fowls had been seized, and that the other had 

 dashed away wildly in the darkness, which proved 

 to be the case. The dead chicken was there 

 under the edge of the stump, where I found it 

 in the morning, and its companion came forth 

 unhurt during the day. Thenceforth the chick- 

 ens, big and little, were all shut up in the hen- 

 house at night. On the third day the appetite 

 of the weasel was keen again, and it boldly gave 

 chase to a chicken before our eyes. I was stand- 

 ing in my porch with my dog, talking with my 

 neighbor and his wife, who, with their dog, were 

 standing in the road a few yards in front of me. 

 A chicken suddenly screamed in the bushes up 

 behind the rocks just beyond my friends. Then 

 it came rushing down over the rocks past them, 

 flying and screaming, closely pursued by a long, 

 slim red animal, that seemed to slide over the 

 rocks like a serpent. Its legs were so short that 

 one saw only the swift, gliding motion of its 

 body. Across the road into the garden, within 



