94 R^ggy^^g 



One day as they fed on the near clover field 

 a red-tailed hawk came swooping after them. 

 Molly kicked up her hind legs to make fun of 

 him and skipped into the briers along one of 

 their old pathways, where of course the hawk 

 could not follow. It was the main path from 

 the Creekside Thicket to the Stove-pipe brush- 

 pile. Several creepers had grown across it, 

 and Molly, keeping one eye on the hawk, set 

 to work and cut the creepers off. Rag watched 

 her, then ran on ahead, and cut some more that 

 were across the path. " That's right,'' said 

 Molly, " always keep the runways clear, you 

 will need them often enough. Not wide, but 

 clear. Cut everything like a creeper across 

 them and some day you will find you have cut 

 a snare. " A what ? " asked Rag, as he scratched 

 his right ear with his left hind foot. 



*' A snare is something that looks like a 

 creeper, but it doesn't grow and it's worse 

 than all the hawks in the world," said Molly, 

 glancing at the now far-away red-tail, " for 

 there it hides night and day in the runway till 

 the chance to catch you comes." 



" I don't believe it could catch me," said 

 Rag, with the pride of youth as he rose on his 

 heels to rub his chin and whiskers high up on 

 a smooth sapling. Rag did not know he was 



