THE MESA TRAIL 



sure you are armed with no long black in- 

 strument to spit your teeth into his vitals at 

 a thousand yards, is both bold and curious. 

 Not so bold, however, as the badger and 

 not so much of a curmudgeon. This short- 

 legged meat-eater loves half lights and 

 lowering days, has no friends, no enemies, 

 and disowns his offspring. Very likely if 

 he knew how hawk and crow dog him for 

 dinners, he would resent it. But the badger 

 is not very well contrived for looking up 

 or far to either side. Dull afternoons he 

 may be met nosing a trail hot-foot to the 

 home of ground rat or squirrel, and is with 

 difficulty persuaded to give the right of 

 way. The badger is a pot-hunter and no 

 sportsman. Once at the hill, he dives for 

 the central chamber, his sharp-clawed, 

 splayey feet splashing up the sand like a 

 bather in the surf. He is a swift trailer, 

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