Way-Atcha, the Coon-Raccoon 
at once they were doing as mother did. What a 
curious sensation to feel the mud sliding between 
one’s fingers; then perhaps a root like a string, 
then a round soft root that wriggles. What a thrill 
it gives! For instinctively one knows that that 
is game, that is what we are here for. And Way- 
atcha, who made the find, clutched the pollywog 
without being told, seized it in his teeth and got 
chiefly a mouthful of mud and sand. He sput- 
tered out everything, mud, pollywog, and all. 
Mother took the flopping silver-belly, gravely 
washed it in the clear water, and gave it back to 
be gobbled by Way-atcha. Now heknew. Thence- 
forth he dropped easily into the habit of his race, 
and every bite was religiously washed and cleaned 
before being eaten. The shy brother with the 
short tail was too timid to go far from mother, 
and what he learned was little. The other two 
were quarrelling over a perfectly worthless old 
bone. Each “found it first,” and the winner had 
a barren victory. Grayback was far out on a log 
over the water, trying to claw out the reflection 
of the moon, but Way-atcha, intoxicated by suc- 
cess, was now keen to keep on hunting. Down 
along the muddy margin he paddled, eagerly glanc- 
ing this way and that, just like mother, feeling 
in all the mud, straining it through his fingers, just 
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