AT HOME 353 



carrying him down, held gingerly at arm's length, or 

 dropping him into the open mouth of a bag if I felt suf- 

 ficiently sure of my aim. 



In the spring of 1903, while in western Kansas, a little 

 girl gave me a baby badger, captured by her brother, and 

 named after him, Josiah. I took Josiah home to Saga- 

 more Hill, where the children received him literally with 

 open arms, while even the dogs finally came to tolerate 

 him. He grew apace, and was a quaint and on the whole 

 a friendly though occasionally short-tempered pet. 

 He played tag with us with inexhaustible energy, looking 

 much like a small mattress with a leg at each corner; he 

 dug holes with marvellous rapidity; and when he grew 

 snappish we lifted him up by the back of the neck, which 

 rendered him harmless. He ate bread and milk, dead 

 mice and birds, and eggs; he would take a hen's egg in 

 his mouth, break it, and avoid spilling any of the contents. 

 When angered, he hissed, and at other times he made low 

 guttural sounds. The nine-year-old boy became his espe- 

 cial friend. Now and then he nipped the little boy's 

 legs, but this never seemed to interrupt the amicable rela- 

 tions between the two; as the little boy normally wore 

 neither shoes nor stockings, and his blue overalls were 

 thin, Josiah probably found the temptation at times irre- 

 sistible. If on such occasions the boy was in Josiah's 

 wire-fenced enclosure, he sat on a box with his legs tucked 

 under him; if the play was taking place outside, he 

 usually climbed into the hammock, while Josiah pranced 

 and capered clumsily beneath, tail up and head thrown 

 back. But Josiah never bit when picked up ; although 



