Molly from the den for good, therefore, his 

 reign, like that of a certain Hebrew king, was 

 over in seven days. 



The other, the fern-hole, was in a fern thicket 

 next the clover field. It was small and damp, 

 and useless except as a last retreat. It also was 

 the work of a woodchuck, a well-meaning 

 friendly neighbor, but a hare-brained youngster 

 whose skin in the form of a whip-lash was now 

 developing higher horse-power in the Olifant 

 working team. 



"Simple justice," said the old man, "for 

 that hide was raised on stolen feed that the team 

 would a' turned into horse-power anyway." 



The Cottontails were now sole owners of the 

 holes, and did not go near them when they 

 could help it, lest anything like a path should be 

 made that might betray these last retreats to an 

 enemy. 



There was also the hollow hickory, which, 

 though nearly fallen, was still green, and had 

 the great advantage of being open at both ends. 

 This had long been the residence of one Lotor, 

 a solitary old coon whose ostensible calling was 

 frog-hunting, and who, like the monks of old, ^j / 



in 



