CHAPTER IV 



THE WOOD-PUSSY 



LATE one afternoon I was reading by the side 

 of a little ravine on an island in Casco Bay. 

 The sharp, rocky walls of the ravine were shaded 

 by scrub trees and overhung with dewberry vines. 

 The tide was ebbing, and presently the faint 

 swash of the waves on the rocky shore was broken 

 by a stir among the dried leaves far down be- 

 low me. 



Creeping cautiously to the edge, I looked down, 

 and there, in a little door-yard of their own, I saw 

 a family of seven young skunks. 



They were about three weeks old, and were 

 playing some kind of a rough-and-tumble game, 

 just like kittens. Funny little bunches of black 

 and white they were, with sharp-pointed noses, 

 beady black eyes, and very large tails. Their 

 color was jet black, except for white tips to their 

 tails, and a pure white mark beginning on the 

 tops of their heads and dividing down their sides 

 like the letter V. 



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