Rag-g-ylug 



were across the path. "That's right," said 

 Molly, "always keep the runways clear, you 

 will need them often enough. Not wide, but 

 clear. Cut everything like a creeper across 

 them and some day you will find you have 

 cut a snare. "A what?" asked Rag, as he 

 scratched his right ear with his left hind foot. 



"A snare is something that looks like a 

 creeper, but it doesn't grow and it's worse than 

 all the hawks in the world," said Molly, glanc- 

 ing at the now far-away red-tail, " for there it 

 hides night and day in the runway till the 

 chance to catch you comes." 



"I don't believe it could catch me," said 

 Rag, with the pride of youth as he rose on his 

 heels to rub his chin and whiskers high up on a 

 smooth sapling. Rag did not know he was doing 

 this, but his mother saw and knew it was a sign, 

 like the changing of a boy's voice, that her little 

 one was no longer a baby but would soon be a 

 grown-up Cottontail. 



"5 



