t in time to escape the
snap of Kagax's teeth.

That angered the fiery little weasel like poking a stick at him. To be
caught napping, or to be heard running through the woods, is more than
he can possibly stand. His eyes fairly snapped as he began digging
furiously. Below, he could hear a chorus of faint squeaks, the clamor
of young wood mice for their supper. But a few inches down, and the
hole doubled under a round stone, then vanished between two roots
close together. Try as he would, Kagax could only wear his claws out,
without making any progress. He tried to force his shoulders through;
for a weasel thinks he can go anywhere. But the hole was too small.
Kagax cried out in rage and took up the trail. A dozen times he ran it
from the hole to the torn moss, where Tookhees had been digging roots,
and back again; then, sure that all the wood mice were inside, he
tried to tear his way between the obstinate roots. As well try to claw
down the tree itself.

All the while Tookhees, who always has just such a turn in his tunnel,
and who knows perfectly when he is safe, crouched just below the
roots, looking up with steady little eyes, like two black beads, at
his savage pursuer, and listening in a kind of dumb terror to his
snarls of rage.

Kagax gave it up at last and took to running in circles. Wider and
wider he went, running swift and silent, his nose to the ground,
seeking other mice on whom to wreak his vengeance. Suddenly he struck
a fresh trail and ran it straight to the clearing where a foolish
field mouse had built a nest in a tangle of dry brakes. Kagax caught
and killed the mother as she rushed out in alarm. Then he tore the
nest open and killed all the little ones. He tasted the blood of one
and went on again.

The failure to catch the wood mouse still rankled in his head and kept
his eyes bright red. Suddenly he turned from his course along the lake
shore; he began to climb the ridge. Up and up he went, crossing a
dozen trails that ordinarily he would have followed, till he came to
where a dead tree had fallen and lodged against a big spruce, near the
summit. There he crouched in the underbrush and waited.

Up near the top of the dead tree, a pair of pine martens had made
their den in the hollow trunk, and reared a family of young martens
that drew Kagax's evil thoughts like a magnet. The marten belongs to
the weasel's own family; therefore, as a choice bit of revenge, Kagax
would rather kill him than