THE SCARCITY OF SKUNKS 105 



half shout. It was a woman's voice, the voice of 

 my wife, I thought. Was something the matter? 



"Hurry!" I heard. But how could I hurry? 

 My breath was gone, and so were my spectacles, 

 and other more important things besides, while 

 all about me poured a choking blinding smother. 

 I fought my way out. 



" Oh, hurry ! " 



I was on the jump; I was already rounding 

 the barn, when a series of terrified shrieks issued 

 from the front of the house. An instant more and 

 I had come. But none too soon, for there stood 

 the dear girl, backed into a corner of the porch, 

 her dainty robes drawn close about her, and a 

 skunk, a wee baby of a skunk, climbing confi- 

 dently up the steps toward her. 



" Why are you so slow ! " she gasped. " I 've 

 been yelling here for an hour ! — Oh ! do — don't 

 kill that little thing, but shoo it away, quick ! " 



She certainly had not been yelling an hour, 

 nor anything like it. But there was no time for 

 argument now, and as for shooing little skunks, 

 I was past that. I don't know exactly what I did 

 say, though I am positive that it was n't " shoo." 

 I was clutching a great stone, that I had run with 



