for dirt. He would look the apple over and 

 over, pick around the blossom end, inspect care- 

 fully, then pull out the stem, if there happened 

 to be a stem, dig out the seeds and peek into 

 the core, then douse it into the water and begin 

 to wash. He would rub with might and main 

 for a second or two, then rinse it, take a bite, 

 and douse it back again for more scrubbing, 

 until it was scrubbed and chewed away. 



Even when the water was thick with mud, 

 this crazy coon persisted in washing his clean 

 cake and cabbage therein. Indeed, the muddier 

 the water, the more vigorously would he wash. 

 The habit was a part of him, as real a thing in 

 his constitution as the black ring in his fur. It 

 was a very dirty habit, here in captivity, even 

 if it went by the name of washing. . Of course 

 Mux could not be blamed for his soiled wash- 

 water. That was my fault ; only I could n't be 

 changing it every time he soaked up a fistful of 

 earth in his endeavor to wash something to eat 

 out of it. No ; he was not at fault, altogether, 

 for the mud in his tub. Out in the Bear Swamp, 

 the streams that wandered about under the 

 great high-spreading gums, and lost their way 

 [114] 



