nder-woods and showing as a dull brown against the brightness of the
sky. The sun-gilt gable was cut off midway by the banks of brier-brush,
that purple in shadow shone like rods of blazing crimson and gold in the
light. Beyond the house the barn with its gable and roof, new gilt as
the house, stood up like a Noah's ark.

The sounds that came from it, and yet more the delicious smell that
mingled with the smoke, told Rag that the animals were being fed cabbage
in the yard. Rag's mouth watered at the idea of the feast. He blinked
and blinked as he snuffed its odorous promises, for he loved cabbage
dearly. But then he had been to the barnyard the night before after a
few paltry clover-tops, and no wise rabbit would go two nights running
to the same place.

Therefore he did the wise thing. He moved across where he could not
smell the cabbage and made his supper of a bundle of hay that had been
blown from the stack. Later, when about to settle for the night, he was
joined by Molly, who had taken her tea-berry and then eaten her frugal
meal of sweet birch near the Sunning Bank.

Meanwhile the sun had gone about his business elsewhere, taking all his
gold and glory with him. Off in the east a big black shutter came
pushing up and rising higher and higher; it spread over the whole sky,
shut out all light, and left the world a very gloomy place indeed. Then
another mischief-maker, the wind, taking advantage of the sun's absence,
came on the scene and set about brewing trouble. The weather turned
colder and colder; it seemed worse than when the ground had been covered
with snow.

"Isn't this terribly cold? How I wish we had our stove-pipe brush-pile,"
said Rag.

"A good night for the pine-root hole," replied Molly, "but we have not
yet seen the pelt of that mink on the end of the barn, and it is not
safe till we do."

The hollow hickory was gone--in fact at this very moment its trunk,
lying in the wood-yard, was harboring the mink they feared. So the
Cottontails hopped to the south side of the pond and, choosing a
brush-pile, they crept under and snuggled down for the night, facing the
wind but with their noses in different directions so as to go out
different ways in case of alarm. The wind blew harder and colder as the
hours went by, and about midnight a fine, icy snow came ticking down on
the dead leaves and hissing through the brush heap. It might seem a poor
night for hunting, but that old fox from Springfield was ou