is large and he is tremendously strong in the jaws. Occasionally Jaguar is all black instead of being yellow and spotted.
THE JAGUAR. The largest and handsomest of the cats of America.
“In this same part of the great Southwest lives a smaller cousin named Ocelot, often called Tiger Cat. Ocelot is only a little bigger than Black Pussy, whom you all know, and in shape is very like her. He also has a lovely coat. It is yellow, not a deep, rich yellow like Jaguar's, but a light yellow, thickly covered with black spots. On his cheeks and the back of his neck are black lines, and his tail is ringed with black. He likes best country where the brush is very thick and thorny, for there he can hunt in safety, with little fear of being hunted by man. Because of his smaller size, he lives chiefly on small animals, birds and reptiles. He sometimes kills and eats big Snakes. When he happens to live near man, he robs the Hen roosts just as Yowler does. In all his ways he is like the other members of the Cat family.
“A neighbor of his in that same country is the queerest looking member of the Cat family. He is called the Jaguarundi Cat or Eyra. Sometimes he is dressed in dull gray and sometimes in rusty red. His body is shaped more like that of Little Joe Otter than of any one else, and he has short legs and a long tail. He is a little larger than Little Joe, and his head is rather small and somewhat flattened, not so round as the heads of most of the other members of the Cat family. He likes to be in the vicinity of water and is a good swimmer. Not very much is known by man about his habits, but he is a true Cat, and the habits of all Cats are much the same.”
Chapter XXXI
Bobby Coon Arrives
Old Mother Nature was just about to open school when a slight noise up the Lone Little Path drew all eyes in that direction. There, shuffling down the Lone Little Path, was a queer looking fellow. No one needed more than one look at that funny, sharp, black and white face of his to recognize him.
BOBBY COON. The Raccoon has the neat habit of washing his food.
“Bobby Coon!” shouted Peter Rabbit. “Are you coming to join our school, Bobby?”
Bobby shuffled along a little nearer, then sat up and blinked at them sleepily. No one needed to be told that Bobby had been out all night. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Hello, everybody,” said he. “I wish I felt as bright and lively as all of you look. I'd like to join your school, but I'm afraid if I did I would go to sleep right in the middle of the lesson. I ought to have been home an hour ago. So I guess I'll have to be excused.”
Old Mother Nature pointed an accusing finger at Bobby Coon. “Bobby,” said she, “You've been getting in mischief. Now own up you've been stealing some of that sweet, milky corn from Farmer Brown's cornfield.”
Bobby Coon hung his head. “I—I—I don't think it was stealing,” he mumbled. “That corn just grows, and I don't see why I shouldn't have my share of it. I help myself to other things, so why shouldn't I help myself to that?”
“I'll tell you why,” replied Old Mother Nature. “Farmer Brown planted that corn and took care of it. If he hadn't planted it, there wouldn't have been any corn there. That makes it his corn. If it grew wild, you would have a perfect right to it. As it is, you haven't any right to it at all. Now take my advice, Bobby, and keep away from that cornfield. If you don't, you will get in trouble. One of these fine nights Bowser the Hound will find you there and you will have to run for your life. Keep away from temptation.”
“But that corn is so good,” sighed Bobby Coon, smacking his lips. “There is nothing I like better than sweet, milky corn, and if I don't get it from Farmer Brown's cornfield, I can't get it at all, for it doesn't grow wild. He'll never miss the little I take.”
Old Mother Nature shook her head and looked very grave. “Bobby,” said she, “that is no excuse at all. Mark what I say: If you keep on you certainly will get in trouble. If you would be satisfied to take just an ear or two, I don't believe Farmer Brown would care, but you know very well that you spoil many times what you eat. You sample one ear, then think that probably the next ear will be better and sweeter and you try that. By the time you get through you have spoiled a lot, and eaten only a little. I think I'll punish you a little myself by keeping you here a while. If you think you can't keep awake, just go over and sit down there by Prickly Porky; he'll keep you awake.”
“I—I think I can keep awake,” stammered Bobby and opened his eyes very wide as if he were trying to stretch his eyelids so as to make them stay open.
“I'll help you by asking you a few questions,” replied Old Mother Nature. “Who is it that people sometimes call you the little cousin of?”
Bobby grinned. “Buster Bear,” said he.
“That's right,” replied Old Mother Nature.
“Of course, being a Raccoon, you are not a Bear, but you are related to the Bear family. I want you all to notice Bobby's footprints over yonder. You will see that the print of his hind foot shows the whole foot, heels and toes, and is a lot like Buster Bear's footprint on a small scale. Bobby shuffles along in much the same way that Buster walks. No one ever mistakes Bobby Coon for any one else. There is no danger that any one ever will as long as he carries that big, bushy tail with its broad black and gray rings. There is only one other in all this great country with a tail so marked, and that is a relative of Bobby's of whom I will tell you later. And there is no other face like Bobby's with its black cheeks. You will notice that Bobby is rather small around the shoulders, but is big and heavy around the hips. That gives him a clumsy look, but he is anything but clumsy. Despite the fact that his legs are not very long Bobby is a very good runner. However, he doesn't do any running unless he has to. Bobby, where were you before you went over to Farmer Brown's cornfield?”
Once more Bobby hung his head. It was quite clear that Bobby didn't want to answer that question. But Old Mother Nature insisted, and finally Bobby blurted it out. “I was up to Farmer Brown's hen house,” said he.
“What for?” asked Old Mother Nature.
“Oh, just to look around,” replied Bobby.
“To look around for what?” insisted Old Mother Nature.
“Well,” said Bobby, “I thought one of those Hens up there might have dropped an egg that she didn't really care about.”
“Bobby,” said Old Mother Nature sternly, “why don't you own up that you went over there to try to steal eggs? Or did you think you might catch a tender young Chicken? Where were you night before last?”
“Over at the Laughing Brook and the Smiling Pool,” replied Bobby promptly, evidently glad the subject had been changed.
“Well, you didn't find sweet corn or eggs or Chickens over there, did you?” said Old Mother Nature.
“No, but I caught three of the sweetest tasting little fish in a little pool in the Laughing Brook, and I got some of the tenderest Clams I've ever eaten,” replied Bobby, smacking his lips. “I raked them out of the mud and opened them. Down at the Smiling Pool I had a lot of fun catching young Frogs. I certainly do like Frogs. It is great sport to catch them, and they are fine eating.”
“I suppose you have had an eye on the beech trees and the wild grape-vines,” said Old Mother Nature slyly.
Bobby's face brightened. “Indeed I have,” said he. “There will be splendid crops of beechnuts and grapes this fall. My, but they will taste good!”
Old Mother Nature laughed. “There is small danger that you will go hungry,” said she. “When you can't find enough to eat times must be very hard indeed. For the benefit of the others you might add that in addition