noise. Her ribs felt as if they would crack. But, fortunately for
her, her teeth and claws were available for business. She fell to
biting, and ripping, and clawing, till the black snake realized it was
no Teddy Bear he had got hold of. For a minute or two he stood it,
squeezing harder and harder. Then he wanted to let go.

"And this, I think, was where he made a mistake. As he relaxed his
deadly coils and swung his head round, the Little Sly One struck out
with both forepaws at once, and succeeded in catching the hissing,
darting head. She caught it fairly, and her long, knife-sharp claws
sank in, holding it like a carpenter's vise. The next minute she had
her teeth in the back of the snake's neck, chewing and tearing.

"Now, the snake's tail was still around the branch, so he tried
furiously to swing the Little Sly One up and crush her against the
branch. But she was too heavy and too strong. So he came down,
instead, and thrashed wildly among the leaves, trying to get a new grip
on her. It was no use, however. He had made too big a mistake. And
the next minute he kind of straightened out. The Little Sly One had
bitten through his backbone, just behind the head.

"Well, now, you see, she had a good square meal before her. But, being
very sly, she first looked all round to see if anyone was coming to
dine with her. There was no one in sight, but she knew how curiously
things get about sometimes. So she growled, on general principles,
grabbed the snake in her teeth, and climbed up the tree so she might
eat in peace.

"The tail was no good to eat, so she bit it off and scornfully let it
drop. If that black snake hadn't had a tail, he would never have been
eaten by a kitten lynx; so the Little Sly One, as she considered this
point, and also thought of the fox, said to herself: 'Well, maybe my
tail doesn't amount to much, after all. But there doesn't seem to be
any luck in tails, anyway.'

"For all that, things in general were keeping her so very, very busy
the Little Sly One felt lonely and homesick at times. And especially
she felt the need of some kind of a nest which she could call her very
own, where she could curl herself up and go to sleep without fear of
unpleasant interruptions.

"This sort of thing, as you may imagine, was not to be found every day
of the week. Most such places had owners, and the Little Sly One was
not yet big enough and strong enough to turn the owners out. If she