CARCAJOU S REVENGE 181 



Wolverine, as he struggled up the over-reaching 

 log-ends at one corner of the Shack. &quot; If they 

 had only left the door open I never close the 

 door of my Burrow.&quot; 



He went down the chimney as though it were 

 a ladder, his back braced against one side, and 

 his strong curved claws holding in the dry mud 

 of the other. Inside of the Shack he worked 

 with exceeding diligence, deporting himself much 

 after the manner of soldiers looting a King s 

 palace. 



Three bags of flour stood in a corner. &quot; That s 

 queer stuff,&quot; muttered Carcajou, ripping open 

 the canvas. &quot; Dry Eating ! &quot; and he scattered 

 it with malignant fury. He pattered up and 

 down in it, rolled in it, and generally had a pleas 

 ing, dusty time. The white stuff got in his 

 throat and made him cough ; the tickling de 

 veloped a proper inebriate s thirst. Two zinc 

 pails, full of water, sat on a wooden bench ; the 

 choking Animal perched on the edge of one, and 

 tried to drink ; but as he stooped over the spread 

 ing top his centre of gravity was disarranged 

 somewhat, and his venture ended disastrously. 

 The floor was clay, smooth-ironed by Francis s 

 feet, so it held the fluid like a pot, and, inci 

 dentally, much batter of Wolverine s mixing was 

 originated. He was still thirsty, and tried the 



