essence of the little beast seemed concentrated 

 in his fore paws. If they made trouble, whose 

 fault was it? They were designed for trouble. 

 You could see this purpose in them as plainly 

 as you could see the purpose in a swallow's 

 wings. Whenever Mux ran across the yard 

 these paws picked up trouble out of the turf, 

 just as if the grass were trouble-filings, and Mux 

 a kind of four-footed magnet. He never went 

 far before they clogged and stopped him. 



One day, the first day that Mux was given the 

 liberty of the yard, who should he run foul of 

 but Tom ! The struggle had to come sometime, 

 and it was just as well that it came thus early, 

 while Tom and Mux were on an equal footing 

 as to size, for Mux was young and growing. 



Tom was boss of the yard. Every farmer's 

 dog that went to town by our gate knew enough 

 to pass by on the other side. Tom had grown a 

 little lordly and opinionated. He was sleeping 

 in the sun on the shed-step as Mux ambled up. 

 At sight of the coon Tom rose in more than his 

 usual feline mightiness and cast such a look of 

 surprise, scorn, and annihilating intent upon the 

 interloper as ought to have struck terror to the 

 [110] 



