The farmer who owned the big barn where the Rats had lived was puzzled. After a few days he became sure that there wasn’t a Rat left in the big barn. He knew that they had all moved over to the farmhouse. They had been bad enough when they had lived in the big barn, but they were ever so much worse living in the house. He knew that Rats did not move like this without a cause. This meant that they must have been driven out of the big barn, and who or what could have driven them out was more than the farmer could guess. For years he had tried to get rid of the Rats there and hadn’t been able to. Now suddenly they had deserted the big barn and taken possession of his house.

“I wish,” said the farmer, “I could find out what drove those Rats over here. Then perhaps I could use the same means to drive them out of the house.”

“I wish you could,” replied his wife. “I don’t know what we’re going to do. Those Rats are getting so bold that they don’t pay any attention to me at all. They run across the pantry floor in broad daylight. The only way I can keep food safe from them is in tin cans or earthen jars with covers, and they have even managed to get the covers off of some of these. They get in the flour barrel. They have spoiled the milk. They have stolen the eggs. In fact, there isn’t anything they haven’t gotten into. They keep me awake nights by their squealing and racing about through the walls. They’re getting so bold that I am afraid of them.”

So the farmer set all his traps. He set traps in the attic and in the pantry and in the woodshed. He put poisoned food where he was sure the Rats would find it. But it was all in vain. Those Rats had learned all about traps, and the gray old leader of them had learned to be suspicious of food left where it was easy to get. He warned the other Rats not to touch this food. The farmer blocked up the holes in the pantry walls, but as fast as he blocked them up, the Rats gnawed new ones.

So it was that the farmer and his wife were in despair. Do what they would, they couldn’t get rid of those Rats. The Rats got into the cellar and stole the vegetables. It got so the farmer’s wife didn’t dare go down cellar. She was afraid of being bitten by a Rat, and you know the bite of a Rat often is poisonous.

Rats are born thieves. They not only steal food, but they carry off many other things, things for which they really have no use at all. Now it happened that one of the young Rats in the farmhouse found some matches and took them to his nest under the floor of the shed. There, having nothing else to do, he nibbled at them to see what the queer stuff on the ends of them might be. His sharp teeth caused one of them to light, and of course that instantly lighted all the rest of them. With a squeak of fright the Rat ran away, for like all the little people of the Green Forest and the Green Meadows, a Rat fears the Red Terror, which we call fire, more than anything else.

Now that Rat’s nest was made chiefly of chewed-up paper and old rags. Nothing could have been better for the Red Terror. It blazed up instantly. The floor just above was of very, very dry wood, for the boards of that floor had been there many years. In no time at all that shed was afire.

All the Rats under the floor fled in terror into the house. Smoke began to pour out of the open door of the shed. The farmer at work in the barnyard saw it and ran as fast as he could to try to put the fire out.

For a while the farmer and his wife had a hard fight with the Red Terror. They pumped water as fast as ever they could and carried it in pails to throw on the fire. At first it looked as if the Red Terror would be too much for them and their house would be burned up, but after a while the water was too much for the Red Terror and drowned it out.

“Whew!” exclaimed the farmer, as he and his wife sat down to rest for a moment. “That was a narrow escape. How under the sun could that fire have started?”

“I haven’t the least idea,” replied his wife. “I was upstairs at the time. There wasn’t a thing in that shed which could have started it. Do you suppose that anybody could have set it?”

The farmer shook his head. “No,” said he, “that fire started under the floor.” Then a sudden thought came to him. “I know how it started!” he cried angrily. “It was those pesky Rats. It was those pesky Rats, as sure as I live. They must have found some matches somewhere and taken them to a nest under the floor. Then, while they were nibbling at them, they set one going. We’ve got to get rid of those Rats or we won’t have a house left over our heads. I don’t know how we’re going to do it, but we’ve got to get rid of those Rats.”

After the Rats left the big barn, Billy Mink found it less easy to get plenty to eat. There were Mice in the big barn, and for several days Billy managed to catch enough of these to keep from going hungry. But Mice can get into places too small for Billy to follow, and those that were left soon learned to keep out of his way.

Then Billy’s thoughts turned to the hens in the henhouse. He had not intended to kill any of those hens, because he knew that as soon as he did, the farmer who owned them would hunt for him, and then he would have to move on. He was so comfortably located in the woodpile that he was not anxious to move on. But one must eat, and now that the Rats had disappeared and the Mice had learned to keep out of his way, Billy’s thoughts turned to those hens.

It was the very night after the fire which the Rats had started in the back shed of the farmhouse that Billy made up his mind to have a chicken dinner. He slipped under the henhouse and up through a hole in the corner which he already knew about. All the hens were roosting high, fast asleep with their heads under their wings. Had Reddy Fox been in Billy Mink’s place, he would have been somewhat puzzled as to how he might catch one of those hens. But Billy wasn’t puzzled. Not a bit of it. You see, Billy can climb almost like a Squirrel. Reddy Fox would have had to jump, and probably would have awakened and frightened the whole flock. Billy Mink simply climbed up to one of the roosts, stole along it to the nearest hen, and with one quick snap of his stout little jaws, he killed that hen without even waking her.

Now, had Billy’s cousin, Shadow the Weasel, been in his place, he would have gone right on killing those hens from sheer love of killing. But Billy Mink killed that hen simply because he must have something to eat, and one hen was more than enough to furnish him a dinner. When he had finished his dinner, he went back to his snug bed under the big woodpile.

Of course, when the farmer came out to feed the hens in the morning he discovered what had happened. He didn’t know who had killed that hen, but he knew that it must have been some one very small to have gotten into the henhouse. He hunted about until he found the hole in the dark corner. He knew that that hole had been made by a Rat, and at first he thought it must have been Rats who killed that hen and this increased his anger.

That afternoon he happened to look out of the barn door towards the woodpile, and he was just in time to see a slim, brown form whisk out of sight under the wood.

“Ha, ha!” exclaimed the farmer. “Now I know who the thief is. There is a Mink in that woodpile. He is the fellow who killed that hen last night. I think, Mr. Mink, we’ll make you pay for that hen with your brown coat.”

If Billy Mink had known that he had been discovered by the farmer, under whose woodpile he was living, it is probable that he would have moved on in search of new adventures just as soon as the Black Shadows had crept out across the barnyard that night. But Billy didn’t know. He had been living there so comfortably that he had grown a little careless, otherwise he never would have ventured out in broad daylight.

That night he decided he would have another chicken for dinner, so he ran over to the henhouse, intending to slip through the hole in the dark corner, just as he had done the night before. But the minute Billy had poked his nose through that hole, he knew something was wrong. There was a queer smell. Billy tested it very carefully with his nose. It was the man smell. That was enough to make Billy suspicious. In less time than it takes to tell it, he had found a trap in that henhouse, so placed that he couldn’t possibly get in through that hole without stepping in it. Right away Billy decided that he didn’t care for a chicken dinner that night. He would go back to the big barn and try to catch a mouse.

Now, when the farmer had first discovered Billy Mink, his one thought had been to catch Billy. He knew that Billy’s brown coat could be sold for enough to pay several times over for the hen Billy had killed. So he had set a trap in the henhouse. That night the Rats in the house were noisier than ever. For a while he forgot Billy Mink, trying to think of some way to get rid of those Rats. Then his thoughts came back to Billy Mink, and all in a flash he understood why those Rats had deserted the big barn and come over to the house.

“It was that Mink!” he exclaimed, right out loud.

“What are you talking about?” demanded his wife.

“That Mink I saw to-day going under the woodpile, the one who killed the chicken last night,” replied the farmer. “That fellow must have been living around here for some time, and he chased those Rats out of the barn. There isn’t a doubt about it. He hunted those Rats in the barn until he frightened them so they moved over here. You see, he could follow them everywhere, and there was no getting away from him. The pesky robbers simply decided they had got to move and our house was the best place to move to.

“It’s all as plain as the nose on my face. If the rats had remained in the barn, I don’t believe that Mink would have bothered the chickens. Probably he doesn’t dare come over here to the house, or else he doesn’t know where the Rats went to. If he would just come over here for a while, we would soon be rid of those pests, and I would forgive him for killing that hen.”

The farmer did a lot of thinking after he guessed that it was Billy Mink who had driven all the Rats out of his barn into his house. “If I could get that little brown rascal over here to the house,” thought the farmer, “I would soon be rid of those robber Rats. But how am I going to do it? If he doesn’t know that those Rats are over here, he certainly will not venture any nearer to the house than that woodpile. And if he cannot get into the henhouse to steal my chickens, he won’t stay around here very long, because he will have little to eat. The thing for me to do is see that he has plenty to eat and learns where it comes from.”

So the very first thing the farmer did the next morning was to put some scraps of fresh meat just outside the woodpile. It didn’t take Billy Mink long to find them. Of course the farmer was out of sight. He was in the barn, peeping through a crack. He saw Billy come out from under the wood and sniff at the pieces of meat. It was clear that Billy was suspicious. He went all around those scraps of meat, and the farmer could tell by the way he moved that Billy suspected a trap.

But Billy found no trap. Of course not, because there was no trap. At last he ventured to seize one of those scraps of meat and darted back into the woodpile with it. A few minutes later he was out again, just as cautious as before. So, one by one, he took the scraps of meat under the woodpile. The farmer smiled as he saw the last scrap disappear. He knew that Billy had enough for a good meal and that with a stomach well filled he would probably take a nap.

This is just what Billy did. All the time he kept wondering about those scraps of meat and how they had happened to be so handy. “It’s queer,” thought Billy, “how that meat happened to be right there. I wonder if that farmer could have dropped it. If he did, I hope he’ll do it again.” With this, Billy went to sleep.

Just at dusk Billy awoke. He was hungry again. He began to think of those hens over in the henhouse. Then he remembered the trap he had found over there and decided he would keep away from the henhouse. He decided that he would go over to the big barn to see if any of those Rats had returned. And then, all of a sudden, he remembered the easy breakfast he had had that morning. Instantly Billy popped his head out from under the woodpile. He didn’t really expect to find any more scraps of meat, and you can guess just how surprised and pleased he was when he found that there were some more scraps just where he had found his breakfast that morning. For the first time Billy suspected that they might have been put there especially for him, and in his heart he began to have a friendly feeling for that farmer.

Billy Mink was living high. Yes, sir, Billy Mink was living high. For the first time in his life he didn’t have to hunt for his meals. Whenever he became hungry, all he had to do was to slip out from under the woodpile—and there was a meal waiting for him. Of course it hadn’t taken Billy long to find out where those meals came from. After the first day Billy had watched. Peeping out from his hiding-place under the wood, he had seen the farmer come from the house and leave something for him to eat, and then go on to feed the hens.

Sometimes Billy would find scraps of meat. Sometimes it would be a piece of fish. Once, when the farmer and his wife had had a chicken dinner, Billy found a couple of chicken heads, of which he is very fond. Always it was something Billy liked. He was living so high that he was actually growing fat and lazy.

And as the days went on, Billy grew less and less afraid of that farmer. He decided that no one who meant harm to him would be so good to him. So after a while Billy would come out in broad daylight. In fact, the farmer would have gone hardly ten steps away before Billy would be out to see what had been left for him. And the farmer, on his part, took the greatest care not to do anything to frighten Billy. In short, Billy and the farmer were becoming very good friends.

Just for exercise Billy would occasionally run over to the big barn and hunt for mice. Once he visited the henhouse and found that no longer was there a hole by which he could get into the henhouse. The farmer had blocked up the hole through which Billy had once entered. After he discovered this, Billy kept away from the henhouse. He knew that it was of no use to go there. You see, he is not like the Rats; he doesn’t gnaw holes. He makes use of holes some one else has made. His teeth are not made for gnawing.

But Billy wasn’t especially disappointed because he couldn’t get into the henhouse. In fact, he seldom thought about chickens. You see, he had plenty to eat, and having plenty there was no temptation to try to kill a chicken. So Billy felt very much at home and worried about nothing at all. There was nothing to worry about. He felt as if he quite belonged in that farmyard. Yes, sir, that is how he felt.

Billy Mink had overslept. This was very unusual for Billy. Usually he was watching for the farmer to bring him his breakfast. But this morning Billy had overslept. He knew it the minute his eyes opened. Right away he scrambled out to see what had been left him for breakfast. He found nothing.

He blinked two or three times, for he had become so used to finding his breakfast right at the edge of the woodpile, that he couldn’t believe there was none left for him that morning. But there wasn’t a thing. Not even the tiniest scrap. Billy began to wonder if some one had stolen his breakfast while he slept.

Right away he put his nose to the ground and began to run about, this way and that way. He was trying to find out if something had been put down and then taken away. He knew that if anything had been there he would be able to smell it, for he has a very wonderful little nose.

Presently a very delicious smell tickled that wonderful little nose. That is, it was a very wonderful smell to Billy. It wouldn’t have been wonderful to you. You would have called it a very bad smell. It was the smell of fish, and not fresh fish at that.

Billy began to gallop along with his nose to the ground, following that smell. He didn’t care who saw him. You see, he had become so at home in that farmyard that he felt quite safe there. He and the farmer had become very good friends. There was no dog to fear, and Billy wasn’t afraid of the Cat. He had just one thought in his mind, and that was to find out what had become of that fish. He was sure it had been meant for him. Whoever had taken it away had dragged it along the ground, and so it was easy for Billy to follow the smell.

He was trailing his breakfast in just the same way he had followed the Rats in the barn. Straight across the barnyard the trail led and over to the shed at the back of the house. There, just in front of a hole under the shed, Billy found the fish. His eyes sparkled and he wasted no time. He began to eat that fish at once. He didn’t stop to wonder who had dragged it there. He didn’t care. It was his fish, and he intended to make sure of it.

When he had finished the last scrap, Billy felt so stuffed that he didn’t want to move any more than he had to. He looked over to the woodpile, and then he looked at the hole under the shed. The woodpile was too far away. He felt sure that he would find a nice comfortable dark place under that shed. Without hesitating a second, he disappeared in the hole.

When Billy Mink slipped through the hole under the floor of the shed at the back of the farmer’s house, his one thought was to find a comfortable place for a nap. He found it without any trouble. You know Billy is not fussy, and he can curl up and sleep almost anywhere. He had stuffed himself so with that fish he had found just outside the hole that he had felt too lazy to explore. So he picked out the first comfortable-looking place he came to and curled up for a nap.

When Billy awoke, he couldn’t at first remember where he was. Then he recalled the fish and how he had slipped in under the shed floor.

“Now I am here, I may as well find out all about this place,” thought Billy, and got to his feet. He yawned and stretched and then began to run around underneath the floor of the shed, using his nose as he always does. In no time at all a familiar scent tickled his nose.

“Ah, ha!” exclaimed Billy Mink. “So this is where those Rats came when they left the big barn. I’m not hungry, but I certainly would enjoy a good hunt. I haven’t hunted anything bigger than a mouse for ever so long.”

Away raced Billy, with his nose to the ground, following the scent of a Rat. It didn’t take him long to find a nest under the shed floor. But there was no one in that nest. The Rat smell was very strong, and Billy knew that Rats had been there only a short time before. The fact is, the Rats who owned that nest had discovered Billy Mink and had promptly moved into the house. Billy eagerly followed the trail. It led him to the hole which led in between the walls of the house. Without hesitating a second, Billy popped through, following that scent. It was a queer place. He had never been in such a place before. But Billy knew that where a Rat could go he could go, and so he followed, climbing up between the walls of the house until at last he reached the attic.

He could hear the scampering of many feet and he could hear squeaks of fright, so he knew the Rats knew that he was there. Once in the attic, Billy found the Rat scent everywhere. It was useless to try to follow with his nose, because the Rats had crossed and recrossed each other’s paths so often that the trail was all mixed up.

But if Billy couldn’t trust to his nose, he could trust to his ears. The sound of scampering feet and the frightened squeaks told him where the Rats were. His eyes blazed with the eager light of the hunter, and without even a glance at all the queer things in that attic, things such as he had never seen before, Billy kept on after those Rats.

The farmer had watched Billy Mink disappear through the hole beneath the shed of the farmhouse. He had chuckled as he saw the tip of Billy’s tail disappear. You see, it was to get Billy over to the house that he had made friends with Billy.

For days the farmer had placed food for Billy close to the woodpile under which Billy was living. On this particular morning he had tied a big piece of fish to a string and then had dragged it from the place where he usually left Billy’s meals over to the hole under the shed. As you know it hadn’t taken Billy long to find that piece of fish.

The farmer hoped that if he could get Billy over to the house, he would follow those Rats and drive them out, just as he had driven them out of the barn. That is why the farmer chuckled when he saw Billy Mink disappear through that hole under the floor of the shed.

For a long time the farmer kept watch, but he was disappointed. Nothing happened. You see, Billy Mink, having eaten a hearty breakfast, had curled up for a nap under the floor of the shed. The farmer didn’t know this and so at last he concluded that somehow Billy Mink had slipped out unseen.

“I did hope that little brown rascal would drive those Rats out,” muttered the farmer, as he went about his work.

It was some time later in the day that the farmer went to the barn door and glanced over towards the house. Then it was that he saw a strange sight, a very strange sight indeed. Out from that hole through which Billy Mink had entered came a crowd of Rats. There were big Rats, little Rats, and middle-sized Rats. There were gray old grandfather Rats and sleek young Rats. Never had the farmer seen so many Rats at one time.

And it was plain to see that those Rats were in a terrible fright. They were squeaking and squealing with fear, and every one of them was running as fast as he could. They scattered in all directions. Some made for the big barn, some made for the woodpile, some made for the henhouse, and others started off straight toward the next farm, in spite of the snow on the ground. The farmer shouted aloud for joy. He knew there wouldn’t be one Rat left in that house by the time Billy Mink came out.

Almost at the heels of the last frightened Rat fleeing from the house of Billy Mink’s friend, the farmer, appeared Billy Mink himself. The Rat started for the big barn, but Billy caught him before he was halfway there.

The farmer who had been watching knew that was the last Rat. He knew it because he knew that Billy would not have shown himself outside as long as there was a Rat left inside. At once the farmer went over and stopped up that hole, so that no Rat could get back into the house.

“You killed one of my chickens, you little brown rascal,” said he, “but you’ve paid for it ten times over. I had intended to kill you for that beautiful, brown coat of yours, but now I wouldn’t harm a hair of it. As long as you want to stay around here, you are welcome. In fact, the longer you stay around here, the better I will like it, and I shall see to it that you have plenty to eat.”

Billy Mink didn’t hear this, and he wouldn’t have understood it if he had. But he had already made up his mind that the farmer was his friend and that was sufficient.

After catching that last Rat to leave the house, Billy went over to the woodpile where he was making his home. It didn’t take him long to discover that some of those Rats were hiding in the woodpile, and he promptly hunted them out of there just as he had hunted them out of the house. Then, being tired, he curled up for a nap.

For two or three days after that Billy Mink hunted Rats. He hunted them until there was not one of that robber gang left in the big barn, the henhouse, or under the woodpile. In fact, there wasn’t one of those robber Rats left on the farm. Where those who had escaped had gone, the farmer didn’t know and Billy Mink didn’t know, and neither of them cared. The farmer was so happy at being rid of those robbers that it seemed as if he couldn’t do enough for Billy Mink. He kept Billy supplied with good things to eat, so that Billy didn’t know what it was to be really hungry. He grew as fat as a Mink can be, and he grew lazy as well.

Now Billy Mink is not naturally lazy. He is one of the most active of all the little people of the Green Forest and the Green Meadows. Not having to hunt for his food, Billy found little to do but eat and sleep, and after a week of this, he began to get uneasy. He began to long for excitement and new scenes.

And so one night Billy left his comfortable quarters and started back for the Laughing Brook and the Smiling Pool, the place he really called home. He was anxious to find out if any of his old friends had been caught in the traps which had been the cause of his leaving the Laughing Brook. The next morning the food put out for him by the farmer was untouched, and the farmer knew that Billy had left, and he was sorry.

When Billy Mink decides to do a thing he wastes no time thinking about it. He does it instantly. Therein he differs from many of his neighbors of the Green Forest. You see, Billy Mink is very quick. He makes quick decisions and he acts just as quickly. That is one reason why Billy is able to go and come as he pleases. There are few he fears.

This doesn’t mean that Billy has no enemies who could kill him easily if they caught him. He has several, but he isn’t afraid of them simply because he is so quick that he feels sure of being able to escape, even though one of these enemies may surprise him. So it is probable that few, if any, of the little people of the Green Forest and the Green Meadows are filled with fear as seldom as is Billy Mink.

The night he decided to leave the farm where he had been living so well, and go back to the Laughing Brook, he slipped out from under the woodpile almost the instant he had made up his mind. It was a moonlight night, just the kind of a night to travel. Billy bounded along, care-free and happy. As is his way, he stopped to investigate whatever attracted his attention. He looked into every little hole he came to, and when he reached a hollow log he ran through it just to find out if anybody else had used it lately.

By and by, he came to the Green Forest. The moonbeams crept through the branches overhead and there were all sorts of Black Shadows. This was just the kind of a place to suit Billy. Occasionally he ran across a bright open place, but for the most part he kept in the Black Shadows. You see, Billy knows very well that it is difficult for any one to see him in the Black Shadows. Not that he cared particularly who saw him, but he long ago learned that if one is unseen it is much easier to see others.

He was running across one of the bright open places when from the corner of one of his eyes he caught sight of a moving shadow. Now most folks in Billy’s place would have stopped, or at least turned to see what that shadow meant. Billy did nothing of the kind. The very second that he caught that glimpse of the moving shadow, Billy bounded off to one side. He didn’t hesitate a fraction of a second. Then he darted under a pile of brush, from which he peeped out with his little eyes glowing red with anger. Just over the brush pile Hooty the Owl hovered for an instant, and his great, yellow eyes glared fiercely down into Billy Mink’s angry little red ones.

“I almost got you that time,” hissed Hooty. “The next time I will get you.”

“Almost never got anybody yet,” snapped Billy. “You’ll be an old, old Owl, Hooty, before ever you dine on me.” With this, Billy actually darted right out, and before Hooty could turn, was under another pile of brush, laughing at Hooty and making fun of him.

After his adventure with Hooty the Owl, Billy Mink kept on his way through the Green Forest toward the Laughing Brook. He felt very good. It always makes one feel good to have proven smarter than some one else. Billy had had a very narrow escape. It is doubtful if there was one among Billy’s friends who would have escaped had they been in his place. That is because none of them act so quickly as does Billy. It was his quickness which had saved him, for when he had caught sight of that moving shadow, Hooty was already reaching for him with those great, cruel claws of his.

But escapes like this are so common to Billy Mink that he gave no further thought to the adventure. Without any trouble at all, he had given Hooty the Owl the slip, and he knew that Hooty hadn’t the least idea in which direction he had vanished. So light-heartedly he continued on his way. But never for an instant did he fail to make use of eyes, ears, and nose to find out what was going on about him.

Presently Billy spied off to one side a little white mound under a hemlock tree. It looked very much like other little white mounds scattered here and there. Billy knew that these little mounds were simply snow-covered logs and stumps. They were everywhere through the Green Forest. So Billy paid no particular attention to this little mound and ran past with hardly a glance at it. But he had gone only a few feet when a wandering Little Night Breeze caught up with him and tickled his nose. Instantly Billy Mink turned and with hardly a pause bounded straight toward that little mound. You see, that wandering Little Night Breeze was tickling his nose with a delicious scent. It was the scent of Jumper the Hare.

Billy didn’t know where Jumper was, but he knew that all he had to do to find him was to follow that scent with his nose. So Billy bounded along with the eager look of the hunter in his eyes, watching ahead for some sign of Jumper. “I don’t see him, but I know he’s somewhere near,” muttered Billy. “What a blessed thing a good nose is. I don’t know what I would do if it were not for mine. Jumper may be ever so well hidden, but my nose will take me straight to him.”

He was going straight toward that little mound under the hemlock tree. He was within two jumps of it when suddenly there wasn’t any mound there! No, sir, there wasn’t any mound there! Instead, a certain little person in white, with long hind legs, was bounding away through the Green Forest. It was Jumper the Hare.

When that little white mound under the hemlock tree suddenly came to life Billy had been surprised. He had known that Jumper the Hare was very near because he had smelled him. But there had been so many little white mounds all about that Billy had paid no special attention to this particular one. As Jumper bounded away Billy Mink chuckled.

“He fooled me that time,” muttered Billy. “Jumper certainly fooled me that time. If that wandering Little Night Breeze had not brought the smell of him to me, I would have gone straight on without once suspecting that Jumper was anywhere about. That white coat of his is worth a whole lot to him. I don’t doubt he saw me all the time and was laughing to himself as he saw me go past. Well, he laughs best who laughs last. It is a long time since I have had a good run through the Green Forest, and I don’t know of any one who can give me a better run than Jumper the Hare.”

So Billy Mink started after Jumper, his nose to the snow, following the scent Jumper couldn’t help leaving. Now Jumper can run much faster than Billy Mink. You know, when he is really frightened, Jumper travels in big leaps. That is how he comes by his name of Jumper. But if Jumper can travel fast, Billy Mink can travel tirelessly, and so right from the start Jumper was worried.

Jumper was worried because he knew that there was not a single place in all the Green Forest where Billy Mink could not follow him. Had it been Old Man Coyote or Reddy Fox in Billy Mink’s place, Jumper would not have been nearly so worried. Either of them could run faster than Billy Mink, but there were plenty of places in the Green Forest where neither Old Man Coyote nor Reddy Fox could get at Jumper. You see, there were brush piles under which Jumper could crawl but they could not. But Billy Mink was so small that he could follow wherever Jumper might go, and poor Jumper was worried. His one chance was to make Billy Mink lose his trail.

So Jumper tried all the tricks he knew. He made his jumps just as long as he could, hoping that Billy would lose the scent in between. Round and round through the Green Forest Jumper ran. Every little while he would sit down to rest, but he never had a chance to rest long. In a few minutes a slim brown form would come in sight, running easily and as if not at all tired. Then in a panic Jumper would bound away again.

Now when Jumper ran he ran so fast that he soon grew tired. This was because he was so frightened. Billy Mink, on the other hand, ran easily and did not get at all tired. Billy was enjoying that hunt. It was fun to work out that trail where Jumper tried to mix it up. So, for an hour Billy Mink followed Jumper and had a good time, but it was a bad hour for Jumper.

Jumper was so intent watching behind him for Billy Mink that he forgot to keep a sharp watch ahead of him. The result was that he almost ran into Old Man Coyote. Old Man Coyote had come over to the Green Forest, hoping to find Whitefoot the Wood Mouse or Mrs. Grouse or some one else who would furnish him with a dinner. So, you can guess how pleased Old Man Coyote was when he caught sight of that white form bounding along straight toward him.

Old Man Coyote crouched as flat as he could right where he was. He didn’t dare move lest Jumper should see him. “That fellow is in a terrible hurry,” thought Old Man Coyote. “He acts as if he is scared half to death. He never runs that way unless some one is chasing him. I wonder if it can be that Reddy Fox is hunting over here to-night. Well, it doesn’t make much difference to me who is after Jumper so long as he drives Jumper right into my mouth. It looks to me as if I am to have the best dinner of the whole winter. Goodness knows I need it. It’s a long time since I’ve had a good, square meal.”

Straight toward Old Man Coyote, Jumper bounded along. His eyes were rolled back to watch for Billy Mink and he paid no heed at all to what was ahead of him. Now it seemed as if a good fairy must have been watching over Jumper the Hare, for just before he reached Old Man Coyote something prompted him to change his course. He didn’t see Old Man Coyote. He didn’t know that Old Man Coyote was anywhere about. But something prompted him to change his course, and he turned abruptly to the right.

With a little snarl of disappointment Old Man Coyote sprang after him. The instant he moved, Jumper saw him. Now Old Man Coyote is very swift of foot. Jumper was tired. You know he had been running for an hour. Jumper gave a little shriek of fear and then he headed straight for a brush pile not far off. He reached it none too soon.

With his heart going pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat, Jumper crouched under the pile of brush and hope died within him. He had escaped Old Man Coyote, but there was Billy Mink following him. He didn’t dare leave the brush pile because of Old Man Coyote, and he didn’t dare stay there because of Billy Mink. Jumper was in a dreadful state of mind.

Jumper the Hare crouched under the big pile of brush where Old Man Coyote had driven him and wondered what he should do next. He didn’t dare leave that pile of brush for fear of Old Man Coyote, and he didn’t dare remain there for fear of Billy Mink. So Jumper was in despair. He couldn’t remember ever having been in quite such a bad situation. Not knowing what to do, he did nothing but sit still and shake with fright. From where he was he could peep out. He could see Old Man Coyote sitting down with his head on one side, as if studying some way to get Jumper out from under that pile of brush.

For perhaps two minutes Old Man Coyote sat that way. Suddenly he pricked up his ears and turned his head. Jumper knew that Old Man Coyote had heard something. Jumper crept a few steps nearer the edge of the old pile of brush in order to see out better. Right away he saw a slim, brown form bounding along toward him. It was Billy Mink.

Old Man Coyote was crouched down with his feet set for a quick spring. Jumper knew then that Old Man Coyote had heard Billy Mink coming. It was this that had made him prick up his ears and turn. Billy Mink stopped very abruptly. Then like a flash he turned. He had seen Old Man Coyote, or else he had smelled him. The instant Billy Mink turned, Old Man Coyote sprang forward. There was no place near for Billy Mink to seek safety in save the brush pile where Jumper was and Old Man Coyote was between Billy and that brush pile.

“Old Man Coyote will get him this time,” thought Jumper, and didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry. He wanted with all his might to be rid of Billy Mink. At the same time he didn’t want anything to happen to Billy.

Billy Mink wasted no time looking for a hiding-place. Like a flash he climbed the nearest tree, for you know Billy is a very good climber. There, just out of reach of Old Man Coyote, Billy crouched on a limb and told Old Man Coyote just what he thought of him. Billy was angry clear through. It was one thing to hunt and quite another thing to be hunted. Old Man Coyote didn’t seem to mind what Billy Mink said. He sat down at the foot of the tree quite as if he intended to stay there.

Jumper waited to see no more. Very quietly he crept out from under the brush pile on the other side and then took to his heels. He meant to put as great a distance as possible between himself and these two enemies. And as he ran he chuckled. “That’s the time an enemy proved a friend,” said he, for he knew that he would have nothing more to fear from Billy Mink that night.