The third flung
itself on his foot and drove its sharp teeth through the
moccasin. Quickly the first rallied and sprang on his other leg
with all the force of its puny paws, and powerful jaws.
Meanwhile Quonab was laughing aloud and holding back Skookum,
who, breathing fire and slaughter, was mad to be in the fight.
"Ho! a good fight! good musquas! Ho, Skookum, you must not always
take care of him, or he will not learn to go alone.
"Ugh, good!" as the third muskrat gripped Rolf by the calf.
There could be but one finish, and that not long delayed. A
well-placed kick on one, the second swung by the tail, the third
crushed under his heel, and the affair ended. Rolf had three
muskrats and five cuts. Quonab had much joy and Skookum a sense
of lost opportunity.
"This we should paint on the wigwam," said Quonab. "Three great
warriors attacked one Sagamore. They were very brave, but he was
Nibowaka and very strong; he struck them down as the Thunderbird,
Hurakan, strikes the dead pines the fire has left on the hilltop
against the sky. Now shall you eat their hearts, for they were
brave. My father told me a fighting muskrat's heart is great
medicine; for he seeks peace while it is possible, then he turns
and fights without fear.
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