I knew, right then,
there was going to be trouble. I knew they were going to cut that tree
down, and that I should most likely have quite a fuss with Mr. Dog, and
perhaps go home with a black eye and a scratched nose, and then get
whipped again for fighting, after I got there."

Mr. 'Coon stopped and knocked the ashes out of his pipe and filled it up
fresh, and all the others knocked the ashes out of their pipes and
filled them up fresh, too. Then Mr. 'Possum poked up the fire and told
Mr. Turtle to bring a stick of wood from down-stairs, and when it was
blazing up high and bright again they all stepped over to the window a
minute, to see how hard it was snowing and banking up outside, then
went back to their chairs around the fire, and stretched out their feet
and leaned back and smoked, and listened to the rest of Mr. 'Coon's
story.

Mr. Coon said he didn't like the sound of that axe when Mr. Man began to
cut the tree down.

"Every time he struck the tree I could feel it all through me," he said,
"and I knew if he kept that noise up long enough it would give me a
nervous headache. I wished the tree would hurry up and drop, so we could
have what muss we were going to, and get it over with. I'd have got out
of that old nest and made a jump for another tree if there had been any
near enough, but there wasn't, so I just laid low and gritted my teeth
and let him chop.

[Illustration: THEN I SUDDENLY FELT LIKE A SHOOTING-STAR]

"Well, by-and-by that tree began to go down. It seemed to teeter a
little at first, this way and that; then it went very slow in one
direction; then it went a little faster; then it went a good deal
faster; then I suddenly felt like a shooting-star, I came down so fast,
and there was a big crash, and I thought I had turned into a lot of
stars, sure enough, and was shooting in every direction, and the next I
knew I was tied to a tree, hand and foot and around the middle, and Mr.
Man and Mr. Dog were sitting and looking at me, and grinning, and
talking about what they were going to do.

"Mr. Man wasn't scolding Mr. Dog any more. He was telling him what a
good thing it was they had caught me alive, for now they could sell me
to a show and get a great deal more for me than they could for my skin.
I didn't know what a show was, then, or that a show is a menagerie, but
I know now, and I can see just what they meant.

"Pretty soon Mr. Man told Mr. Dog to stay there and watch me while he
went home a