to do then was to make for another tree, or if the next tree was
too far, to play dead, because Mr. Painter did not much like anything he
hadn't killed himself. That is how we got the playing-dead habit, which
others sometimes try and call it 'playing 'possum,' because nobody can
do it so well as our family, and I judge some of our family didn't do it
perfectly the one and only chance they got to try it, or else Mr.
Painter was smarter, or hungrier, at those times.

"Well, my ancestors got so that they could hold to those limbs very
firmly with their hands and feet, and Mr. Painter had a hard time to
shake them down, though he didn't like to give up, and would go on
shaking all day, sometimes, until my folks would get tired out. They
used to try to hold and brace themselves with their tails, too, but we
had just big, ornamental tails in those days, covered with thick, bushy
hair, and of very little use, like Mr. Squirrel's and Mr. 'Coon's."

When Mr. 'Possum made that remark, Mr. 'Coon and Mr. Squirrel sat up
quite straight, and were just about to say something, but Mr. Rabbit
motioned to them and said "'Sh!" and Mr. 'Possum went right on, without
noticing that anything had happened.

"Those tails were no manner of account, but just in the way, and some of
my folks thought it would be almost better if they didn't have them at
all, but just a funny bunch of cotton, or something, like Mr. Rabbit's."

When Mr. 'Possum said that, Mr. Rabbit sat up quite straight, and was
just about to say something, but Mr. 'Coon and Mr. Squirrel motioned to
him and said "'Sh!" and Mr. 'Possum didn't notice anything had happened.

"You see," he went right on, "every little while it happened that one of
my ancestors would start up the tree not quite soon enough, and Mr.
Painter would just manage to get his claws in that bushy ornament, which
would settle it for that ancestor, right away. Of course, my family were
proud of those big, plumy things, people being generally proud of their
most useless property, something they would be better off, and live
longer, without. My folks thought those great tails were handsome,
especially our young people, who would walk about waving them and
practise carrying them in new positions, and about once a week would do
up the long, thick fur on them in little knots, tied with tough, twisted
grass, which would make the hair curl and look very showy indeed. Even
some of my ancestors who happened to get old