

Ragfgylug- 



Poor little Molly Cottontail ! She was a true 

 heroine, yet only one of unnumbered millions 

 that without a thought of heroism have lived 

 and done their best in their little world, and 

 died. She fought a good fight in the battle of 

 life. She was good stuff ; the stuff that never 

 dies. For flesh of her flesh and brain of her 

 brain was Rag. She lives in him, and through 

 him transmits a finer fibre to her race. 



And Rag still lives in the Swamp. Old Olifant 

 died that winter, and the unthrifty sons ceased 

 to clear the Swamp or mend the wire fences. 

 Within a single year it was a wilder place than 

 ever ; fresh trees and brambles grew, and falling 

 wires made many Cottontail castles and last re- 

 treats that dogs and foxes dared not storm. 

 And there to this day lives Rag. He is a big 

 strong buck now and fears no rivals. He has 

 a large family of his own, and a pretty brown 

 wife that he got I know not where. There, no 

 doubt, he and his children's children will flour- 

 ish for many years to come, and there you may 

 see them any sunny evening if you have learnt 

 their signal code, and choosing a good spot on 

 the ground, know just how and when to thump it. 



143 



