6 EVERYDAY ADVENTURES 



bushy tail. As I came on more and more slowly, I 

 received the third and last warning — the end of the 

 erect tail moved quietly back and forth a few times. 



It was enough. I stood stony still, for I knew that 

 if, after that, I moved forward but by the fraction 

 of an inch, I would meet an unerring barrage which 

 would send a suit of clothes to an untimely grave. 

 For perhaps half a minute we eyed each other. Like 

 the man in the story, I made up my mind that one 

 of us would have to run — and that I was that one. 

 Without any false pride I backed slowly and cau- 

 tiously out of range. Thereupon the threatening 

 tail descended, and Mr. Skunk trotted away through 

 a gap in the fence into the long grass of an unoc- 

 cupied lot — probably seeking a breakfast of field- 

 mice. 



I felt a definite sense of relief, for it is usually more 

 dangerous to meet a skunk than a bear. In fact, all 

 the bears that I have ever come upon were dis- 

 appearing with great rapidity across the landscape. 



But there are times when a meeting with either 

 Mr. or Mrs. Bruin is apt to be an unhappy one. 

 Several years ago I was camping out in Maine one 

 March, in a lumberman's shack. A few days before I 

 came, two boys in a village near by decided to go 

 into the woods hunting, with a muzzle-loading 

 shot-gun and a long stick between them. One boy 

 was ten years old, while the other was a patriarch 

 of twelve. On a hillside under a great bush they 

 noticed a small hole which seemed to have melted 

 through the snow, and which had a gamy savor 



