by Joseph Wharton Lippincott Author of “Bun, a Wild Rabbit” “Red Ben, the Fox of Oak Ridge” and “Gray Squirrel” Illustrated by the author THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY PHILADELPHIA MCMXXII COPYRIGHT 1922 BY THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY Striped Coat, the Skunk MADE IN U. S. A....

Lest I be misunderstood in calling this wonderful little animal man’s best friend among the furry creatures of the wood, let me at the outset draw attention to the fact that, far from putting a bounty on its destruction as some people might think desirable, many states have laws protecting it, as much for its usefulness to the farmers as for the value of its very beautiful fur. The large black and white striped skunks we or our pet dogs often encounter, sometimes to our disaster, belong only in

The full moon was shining over the narrow waters of Goose Creek. Here and there, its light slipped between the seemingly endless branches of the cedars, pines and oaks, and lay in silvery patches on the sand along the banks and on the carpet of dead leaves which extended from either side of the stream on and on, into the big silent woods. Wherever the light could not pierce the foliage, there were black shadows in streaks and squares and checker board patterns—black on white, white on black—just

And so it happened that Farmer Ben Slown had a family of skunks as neighbors. Some people might have been happy about it, but not he. It was well for the family that they were hidden under the wood pile so securely that he did not even suspect they were there; for Farmer Slown had never learned to live on friendly terms with the little woodsfolk. He shot the crows and blackbirds because he thought they spent most of their time eating his crops. He set traps for the rabbits and the woodchucks bec

The next day found the farm still rich with the bitter odor of musk. The Farmer’s brisk scrubbing in the waters of Goose Creek removed the worst of the scent from his own limbs, but plenty remained to keep him reminded of the night’s experience. So he and his hound went about with sore noses hating themselves and brooding over the mean treatment they thought they had received. Each vowed vengeance in his own way, but neither felt especially anxious to again meet the little wood pussy face to fac

Farmer Slown was plowing the corner of the field nearest Goose Creek. It was not far from the wood-pussies’ den, so the clank of the plow chains and the loud commands of “gid up,” “whoa there,” kept the skunk family from their usual morning sleep. Then, too, the black and white hound amused himself by sniffing about until he discovered the hiding place of Bun, the woods rabbit, whom he chased for a long time with much crashing of brush and excited baying. Bun led the stupid hound to all the most

One fine day the Mother uncurled herself and sat up in the nest to sniff the air. The young ones awoke one by one, and sniffed too, that is, all except Striped Coat whose four black paws still pointed at the sky as he lay on his back sleeping off the effects of his last stuffing. There was a smell of smoke. Farmer Slown, true to his threat, was burning the brush piles. Soon the smoke drifted past in masses, driven by a brisk breeze blowing towards Goose Creek. There was a crackling and snapping

Farmer Slown owned six chickens. One of them was a white pullet which, having not yet made a nest, spent much time in going about hunting a good place and in telling the others about her difficulties. The morning after the skunk family took up residence under the barn she was still wandering around cackling and complaining. “Cawk cawk cawk caw-w-w-w-k,” she muttered as she strolled around the corner of the barn. Striped Coat, lying as usual on his back, turned over quickly and looked about. “Caw

A furious thunder storm was sweeping down Goose Creek; hailstones nearly the size of marbles bounded from limb to limb or cut through the tender leaves on their way to earth. Such things sometimes happened in the last days of June, but rarely were they followed by a wind as cold as that which in the night swept through the pines around the barn of Farmer Slown. It whistled in the holes and cracks and made the wood pussies’ new home drafty and uncomfortable. So the mother very wisely went out in

Farmer Slown arose early, milked the goat with nervous speed, breakfasted on one less egg than usual and started for the village in his flat-bottomed boat. His principal errand there was the buying of two huge steel traps guaranteed to hold anything up to a grizzly bear in size. These two traps having long been on exhibit in a hardware store window as curiosities to draw a crowd and to help advertise the store’s wares, their purchase by the Farmer very naturally aroused the curiosity of the shop

Farmer Slown was sitting on his doorstep reading another special edition of the village paper. Opposite him stood a stranger watching with amusement the changing expression on the Farmer’s red face. “That’s the line I referred to,” he interrupted the other man. “See, right here!” He pointed to a paragraph. The Farmer began to read it aloud. “And so,” he read, “the great monster of the woods, the prehistoric mammal, turned out to be nothing more than a little skunk. The boy who made the discovery

It was in September that Striped Coat made an important discovery; travelling further up Goose Creek than usual, he came across a log cabin, not the kind ordinarily built by summer visitors on a good stream for canoeing, but one which seemed a part of the woods itself. Instead of being wary about approaching it, Striped Coat found it actually luring him. Coming closer, he found at one end an open door leading into a room lighted only by the dull glow from an open fire-place in front of which sto

Mr. Henry had taken such a liking to Striped Coat that he wanted to make sure the wild wood pussy would like the cabin well enough to make it a permanent home. With this in mind he built an underground drain leading under it to a pile of stones nearby. Safety was even more important than comfort in the matter of a den, and through this back door Striped Coat could feel able to go or come when he chose. The stone pile hid the entrance and allowed no animal larger than he, to enter through its cra

December and January passed without Striped Coat waking up for more than an occasional peep at the woods whenever the warm south wind was blowing; but the last days of February found him uneasy and on the watch for good weather; then there came a gentle warm rain which brought a new scent into the woods—the scent of Spring. Striped Coat caught it and was lured out as soon as darkness came; his mother followed eagerly. They were both anxious to get food but also interested in looking around and h

When the early pink and white flowers of the trailing arbutus brightened the ground in many parts of the slowly awakening woods, Mr. Henry returned to the cabin. It was there that he found it possible to do his best work, for he was a writer, who needed the quiet and solitude of a place like this. Nothing really unpleasant ever seemed to happen there, and interesting things were always cropping up. For instance there was Striped Coat! And now Striped Coat had a mate! But the other little wood pu

It was early morning. Under the cabin, Striped Coat was in his big bed curled up asleep but twitching occasionally as he dreamed of battles with old warrior rats. In the woodchuck’s burrow under the uprooted pine, Striped Coat’s mate was giving all the little “striped coats” their morning bath, using her wet tongue as the wash rag. And in the old den under the holly tree Striped Coat’s mother was doing much the same with four little ones which made up her new family; pretty youngsters, but all s