6 EVERYDAY ADVENTURES 
bushy tail. As I came on more and more slowly, I 
received the third and last warning — the end of the 
erect tail moved quietly back and forth a few times. 
It was enough. I stood stony still, for I knew that 
if, after that, I moved forward but by the fraction 
of an inch, I would meet an unerring barrage which 
would send a suit of clothes to an untimely grave. 
For perhaps half a minute we eyed each other. Like 
the man in the story, I made up my mind that one 
of us would have to run — and that I was that one. 
Without any false pride I backed slowly and cau- 
tiously out of range. Thereupon the threatening 
tail descended, and Mr. Skunk trotted away through 
a gap in the fence into the long grass of an unoc- 
cupied lot— probably seeking a breakfast of field- 
mice. 
I felt a definite sense of relief, for it is usually more 
dangerous to meet a skunk than a bear. In fact, all 
the bears that I have ever come upon were dis- 
appearing with great rapidity across the landscape. 
But there are times when a meeting with either 
Mr. or Mrs. Bruin is apt to be an unhappy one. 
Several years ago I was camping out in Maine one 
March, in a lumberman’s shack. A few days before I 
came, two boys in a village near by decided to go 
into the woods hunting, with a muzzle-loading 
shot-gun and a long stick between them. One boy 
was ten years old, while the other was a patriarch 
of twelve. On a hillside under a great bush they 
noticed a small hole which seemed to have melted 
through the snow, and which had a gamy savor 
