WHEN NATURE SMILED 



305 



On that same night we had a curious adventure with 

 a Weasel. 



All were sitting around the camp-fire at bed-time, 

 when I heard a distinct patter on the leaves. "Some- 

 thing coming," I whispered. All held still, then out 

 of the gloom came bounding a snow-white Weasel. 

 Preble was lying on his back with his hands clasped 

 behind his head and the Weasel fearlessly jumped on 

 my colleague's broad chest, and stood peering about. 



In a flash Treble's right elbow was down and held 

 the Weasel prisoner, his left hand coming to assist. 

 Now, it is pretty well known that if you and a Weasel 

 grab each other at the same time he has choice of holds. 



"I have got him," said Preble, then added feelingly, 

 "but he got me first. Suffering Moses! the little cuss 

 is grinding his teeth in deeper." 



The muffled screaming of the small demon died away 

 as Treble's strong left hand crushed out his life, but as 

 long as there was a spark of it remaining, those desper- 

 ate jaws were grinding deeper into his thumb. It 

 seemed a remarkably long affair to us, and from time 

 to time, as Preble let off some fierce ejaculation, one of 

 us would ask, "Hello! Are you two still at it," or, 

 "How are you and your friend these times, Preble?" 



In a few minutes it was over, but that creature in 

 his fury seemed to have inspired himself with lock-jaw, 

 for his teeth were so driven in and double-locked, that 

 I had to pry the jaws apart before the hand was free. 



The Weasel may now be seen in the American Mu- 

 seum, and Preble in the Agricultural Department at 

 Washington, the latter none the worse. 



