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Updated: June 26, 2025
"What are they?" "Boys," grinned Pete. "De town is gittin' fair congested wid 'em. But 'tain't nuttin', son; it's jes' a part er de game er life. Come on." The way was easier now, and they journeyed without alarm. Presently Ringtail turned to his friend with his twisted smile: "Yer see dat lady settin' on de gate-post? Well, dat's me steady. I'll interjuce yer in a minute."
Sometimes he even used Ringtail for a pillow, a liberty which the animal never resented. As has been mentioned, Ringtail was extremely fond of bright objects. A bit of glass or tin glittering in the light would draw him irresistibly. And one night this attraction led him into serious trouble.
A memory it was of wild things, to be killed a blood-lust memory and now at last it woke in a pampered, velvet-hearted cat. Ringtail Pete was conscious of the other's wistful look, and laughed; for his battle with life had taught him generosity. "Say, bo, yer don't want to do de bashful see? 'cause me 'n' you is gents what understands de game er chanst. Here take holt an' chaw yerse'f off a hunk!"
They traversed an alley, black and reeking with nightly smells, pausing at last on the verge of a lighted street whence rose the sound of human mirth, bits of vulgar song, and the barking of vagrant dogs. "S-h-h-h!" cautioned Ringtail. "You wait till I counts to t'ree, den make a rush fer de alley acrost de street see?" "But, why?" asked Omar Ben, wondering.
After the two had gazed sociably at each other for a few moments the Hermit bade Ringtail a cheery good-night and withdrew to his own cabin, calling to Pal, who had been arousing the echoes with his excited barking.
Ringtail climbed from the home tree to which he had returned in the spring, and set out for the swamp, eager for a meal of frogs and fish in spite of the strange, oppressive feeling in the air. About midnight, while he was still abroad, the storm broke and swept over the wilderness, leaving its path strewn with a tangled mass of brush and fallen trees.
Then, after a nap, the two reeled homeward down the road, Pete smiling his twisted smile, and Omar Ben Sufi wrapped in the comforting belief that he was singing tunefully. "Say, R.T.," the Persian chuckled happily, "what did you say was the name of your lady friend's other lady friend?" "Lizzie," answered Ringtail, astounded at the tone of familiarity; "an' take it from me she's white!"
The following night Ringtail again visited the birdhouse. To his joy he discovered that it could now be entered, even though the doorway was a tight fit. The sparrows, who, in spite of the destruction of their nests, had returned to the cabin to roost, he evicted without a qualm of conscience. The first streaks of dawn found him curled up snugly, sound asleep in his new home.
It was covered from sight and badly rusted save for one spot, where a moonbeam had made a dazzling point of light in the darkness. Lured by its gleam Ringtail had stopped to investigate and his foot had been caught fast in the trap.
A moment later Ringtail, the big raccoon, scrambled to the ground and set off in search of food. His brown fur was long and thick, and his big tail with its seven dark rings was the pride of his heart. In the wilderness, life is a serious business, yet the big raccoon enjoyed to the utmost the blessings which Providence had heaped upon him.
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