CHAPTER XXXI
FUZZY AND THE WEASEL
OF all the curious furry folk that Fuzzy saw that summer, the weasel was the most curious looking little beast.
At first glimpse he thought it was a black snake that went gliding through the scarlet fire-weed. The long, humped body with its flat, almost earless head and long neck ended in a tail nearly as long. Behind the pointed nose, the blood-thirsty villain’s red eyes glowed cruelly.
The weasel was after a mouse, when the little bear first saw him, and so slim was he that he could follow that unhappy victim straight down into his hole. He emerged in two minutes licking his bloody jaws, for he had not eaten the whole mouse, but only quenched his thirst, as is the way with weasels.
Chuck and Chipper, and indeed the whole chipmunk horde, had hidden in their furthest dens at first glimpse of the blood-sucker. Nor was that all: each was prepared to flee for his life through his emergency exit, should the killer start down their front entryway.
The clumsy-looking ground squirrels developed a speed of which Fuzzy had not supposed them capable, as the dark, snaky form went twisting and turning through the under-growth with his nose to the patch-work of their trails. One old fellow took refuge in a stone pile, but the weasel squirmed his way after him, through every chink and crevice, till Fuzzy heard his victim utter his last unhappy squeal.
But did that stop the killer? Merely tasting the warm blood, the weasel left his catch uneaten and started after another. Now most of the wild folk who kill at all, kill because they must eat. But the weasel is different: he kills for the love of killing. He is the villain of the play. No mouse or chipmunk whose trail he starts to follow ever gets away from him.
Now there was a big rabbit that Fuzzy had chased off and on all summer, but always the little animal flapped its ears saucily and got away. It was not afraid of Fuzzy, and could easily outrun him. The rabbit had been eating every green thing that came up in the Ranger’s garden, and Fuzzy had felt it his duty to rid the place of the fellow. Besides, though mostly a vegetarian, he had often thought that rabbit would be good eating.
To-day the rabbit was just settling down to demolish a head of the Ranger’s lettuce when the weasel, running along with his nose to the ground, crossed its trail. Sniffing eagerly at the scent of warm fur, he raced up to the flap-eared one.
Now a rabbit has perfectly good hind legs. If its courage had been as good, no weasel could have overtaken it in a race. At first this particular rabbit, sniffing the air for signs of an enemy, thought it was only the little bear, and went right on eating, waggling its ears saucily.
Then it saw the weasel. With one great bound it was leaping away through thewoods, the little weasel after it, but losing ground.
Then the foolish rabbit leapt high to see where its enemy was. The weasel was sneaking along in such a snake-like manner that at first it couldn’t see him, so the foolish bunny circled back to make sure.
Now the weasel was just on the point of giving up, seeing that here was one victim he could not hope to overtake, when the rabbit suddenly came back, saw him still pursuing, and losing heart, squatted down, paralyzed with fear, uttering a squeal for mercy.
Instantly the weasel was on the rabbit’s back, biting the cowardly beggar back of the ear, where it killed it instantly. But a taste of the hot blood and the weasel was satisfied, and ran away to chase barn rats.
“Am I in luck?” Fuzzy asked himself, licking his jaws hungrily.
The Ranger also thought himself in luck, for inside a week the weasel had rid the barn of rats, and betaken himself away to new hunting grounds.