The Daring Of Stripes Terror-Tail

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Title:     The Daring Of Stripes Terror-Tail
Author: Charles G. D. Roberts [More Titles by Roberts]

"What would you do if a bear came at you, Uncle Andy?" inquired the Babe.

"Run," said Uncle Andy promptly, "unless I had a gun!"

The Babe thought deeply for a moment.

"And what would you do if a little, teeny, black-and-white striped skunk came at you?" he asked.

"Run like sixty!" responded Uncle Andy, still more promptly.

"But a skunk's so little!" persisted the Babe. "Will he bite?"

"Bite!" retorted Uncle Andy scornfully. "He doesn't have to. It appears to me you don't know skunks very well!"

"Huh!" said the Babe. "I've smelt 'em. But _smells_ can't hurt anybody."

"With your notions of skunks," answered Uncle Andy, "you're going to get yourself into a heap of trouble one of these days. I'd better tell you about what happened once when a small young skunk, out walking all by himself in the dewy twilight, happened to meet a large young bear."

Now, the Babe had a great respect for bears.

"Huh!" said he scornfully. "What could _he_ do to a bear?"

"The little skunk's name," said Uncle Andy, paying no heed to the interruption, "was Stripes Terror-Tail. He was a pretty fellow, black and glossy, with two clear white stripes down his back on each side of his backbone. His tail was long and bushy, and carried high in a graceful curve; and he was about the size of a half-grown kitten.

"Generally he went hunting with the rest of his family, for the Terror-Tails are affectionate and fond of each other's companionship. But each one does just as he likes, in his easy way; so on this particular evening little Stripes had strolled off by himself over the dewy hillocks, catching fat crickets in the dim twilight, and hoping every minute that he might find a ground sparrow's nest under some bush."

"Did he rob birds' nests?" asked the Babe, remembering that this, for boys, was one of the deadly sins.

"He certainly did!" said Uncle Andy, who didn't like to be interrupted. "That is, when he had a chance. Well, as luck would have it, a young bear was out nosing around the hillocks that evening, amusing himself with the fat crickets. He wasn't very hungry, being chock full of the first blueberries.

"He would sit back on his haunches, like a tremendous, overgrown black puppy, with his head tilted to one side, his ears cocked shrewdly, and a twinkle in his little dark eyes; and with one furry forepaw he would pat a thick bunch of grass till the frightened crickets came scurrying out to see what was the matter. Then he would almost fall over himself trying to scoop them all up at once--and while he was chewing those he'd caught he'd look as disappointed as anything over those that got away.

"Well, when he got tired of crickets he thought he'd look for a bird's nest. He came to a wide, flat, spreading juniper bush, just the kind that might have a bird's nest under it; and as he nosed around it he came face to face with little Stripes. You see, they were both after the same thing, and both had the same idea about the best place to look for it.

"Now, that young bear's education had been terribly neglected. He didn't know any more about skunks than you do. So he thought, maybe the soft little black-and-white thing with the fluffy tail carried so airily might be just as good to eat as birds' eggs--besides being more filling, of course.

"He would have grabbed little Stripes right off, had the latter tried to run away. But as Stripes showed no sign of any such intention, the bear hesitated. After all, there didn't seem to be any great hurry! He put out a big paw to slap the stranger, but changed his mind and drew it back again, the stranger seemed so unconcerned. It was decidedly queer, he thought to himself, that a little scrap of a creature like that should be taking things so easy when he was around. He began to feel insulted.

"As for Stripes, nothing was farther from his mind than running away from the big black creature that had suddenly appeared in front of him. It was not for a plump, leisurely little skunk to be taking violent exercise on a hot night. Yet he didn't want to walk right over the bear--not at all. And he had no intention of making things disagreeable for the clumsy-looking stranger."

"Huh, what could _he_ do to _him_?" interrupted the Babe again. He had the greatest faith in bears.

"_Will_ you wait!" groaned Uncle Andy. "But first let me explain to you the peculiar weapon with which Stripes, and all the Terror-Tail family, do their fighting when they have to fight--which they are quite too polite to do unnecessarily. Some distance below his bushy, graceful tail, sunken between the strong muscles of his thighs, Stripes had a shallow pit, or sac, of extraordinarily tough skin containing a curious gland which secreted an oil of terrible power.

"The strong muscles surrounding this sac kept the mouth of it always so tightly closed that not an atom could get out to soil the little owner's clean, dainty fur, or cause the slightest smell. In fact, Stripes was altogether one of the cleanest and daintiest and most gentlemanly of all the wild creatures. But when he _had_ to, he could contract those muscles around the oil sac with such violence that the deadly oil--blinding and suffocating--would be shot forth to a distance of several feet, right into the face of the enemy. And _that_, let me tell you, was never good for the enemy!"

"Why?" demanded the Babe.

But Uncle Andy only eyed him scornfully. "When Stripes, quite civilly, looked at the bear, and then proceeded to smell around under the juniper bush for that bird's nest, which didn't seem to be there, the bear was much puzzled. He put out his paw again--and again drew it back.

"Then he said 'Wah!' quite loud and sharp, to see if that would frighten the imperturbable stranger. But Stripes didn't seem to mind noises like that. His bright, intelligent eyes were on the bear all the time, you know, though he seemed to be so busy hunting for that bird's nest.

"'Pooh!' said the bear to himself, 'he's just plain idiot, that's what's the matter with him. I'll eat him, anyway!' and he bounced forward, with paw uplifted, intending to gather Stripes as he would a fat cricket."

Here Uncle Andy was so inconsiderate as to pause and relight his pipe. The Babe clutched his arm.

"Well," he went on presently, "just at this moment Stripes made as if he was going to run away, after all. He whisked round and jumped about two feet, and his fine tail flew up over his back, and in that very instant the bear thought the whole side of the hill had struck him in the face.

"He stopped with a bump, his nose went straight up in the air, and he squalled: 'Wah-ah! Wah--' But in the middle of these remarks he choked and strangled and started pawing wildly at his nose, trying to get his breath.

"His eyes were shut tight, and that deadly oil clung like glue. His paws couldn't begin to get it off, and so he fell to rooting his nose in the turf like a pig, and plowing the grass with his whole face, fairly standing on his head in his efforts, all the time coughing and gurgling as if he was having a fit.

"His behavior, in fact, was perfectly ridiculous; but there was no one there to laugh at it but Stripes, and he was too polite. He just strolled on quietly to another bush, and kept looking for that bird's nest.

"At last the bear, what with pawing and rooting, managed to get his breath and open his eyes. He wallowed a bit more, and then sat up, his nose full of dirt, and moss and grass hanging all over his face. He was a sight, I tell you! And how he did dislike himself!

"As he sat there, thinking how he'd ever get away from himself, he caught sight of Stripes, strolling off quietly over the brown hillocks. Sitting back on his haunches, he blinked at the little, leisurely black-and-white figure.

"'And to think I was going to eat _that_!' he said to himself sadly."

[The end]
Charles G. D. Roberts's short story: Daring Of Stripes Terror-Tail

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