excited voice.
Leaping from his hammock he quickly rounded the corner of the cabin and
beheld a weird sight. A torch borne in the hand of a tall man cast a
flickering light over a melee of dogs, leaping and barking about the
foot of the pole which held Ringtail's snug home. Another but smaller
figure stood near, pointing to the spot where, upon the platform before
the birdhouse, two shining eyes looked down at the group. Pal was here,
there and everywhere, loudly voicing his opinion of the intruders.

The Hermit strode up to the group. "What does this mean?" he asked in a
stern voice, of the man who held the torch.

Instead of replying to his question, the man asked, "Is that your coon?"

"No, it isn't my coon, but it is kind enough to be boarding with me at
present," the Hermit replied.

"Well, you'll have to kill him. My name is Graham. I live a mile up the
river and this coon has just about ruined my cornfield," was the
truculent answer.

"How do you know it is this one?" the Hermit asked. "There are other
raccoons in the woods."

"How do we know?" The man was growing angry at the delay. "Didn't we
just track him here? After he had ruined a choice patch last night, I
made up my mind to get him. Sure enough, he came to-night and the dogs
brought us here."

The Hermit's face grew grave and he raised troubled eyes to those of his
old friend twinkling down at him. "If this is true," he said slowly, "of
course something will have to be done. I only ask you to make sure
first. Will you do what I propose?"

He talked earnestly for a few moments while the farmer listened in
silence. Then Mr. Graham said, still unconvinced, "Well, we will try it,
but if we find that it is your coon, he will have to be killed."

The Hermit nodded and, calling their dogs, the strangers departed
without their game. The Hermit returned to his hammock and silence once
more settled over the clearing. It was long, however, before the man
slept. Ringtail, with his mischievous ways and funny masked face, had
become a favorite member of his little household. And now disgrace and
death were probably to be his portion. With a sinking of the heart the
Hermit remembered Ringtail's long absences in the moonlight and his
full-fed, happy appearance upon his return.

The following morning, in accordance with his promise to the farmer, the
Hermit lured Ringtail to the cabin by means of a cooky. Snapping a chain
about his neck he tethered him securel