Molly had no other children to look after now, so Rag had all her
care. He was unusually quick and bright as well as strong, and he had
uncommonly good chances; so he got on remarkably well.
All the season she kept him busy learning the tricks of the trail, and
what to eat and drink and what not to touch. Day by day she worked
to train him; little by little she taught him, putting into his mind
hundreds of ideas that her own life or early training had stored in
hers, and so equipped him with the knowledge that makes life possible to
their kind.
Close by her side in the clover-field or the thicket he would sit and
copy her when she wobbled her nose 'to keep her smeller clear,' and pull
the bite from her mouth or taste her lips to make sure he was getting
the same kind of fodder. Still copying her, he learned to comb his ears
with his claws and to dress his coat and to bite the burrs out of his
vest and socks. He learned, too, that nothing but clear dewdrops from
the briers were fit for a rabbit to drink, as water which has once
touched the earth must surely bear some taint. Thus he began the study
of woodcraft, the oldest of all sciences.
As soon as Rag was big enough to go out alone, his mother taught him the
signal code. Rabbits telegraph each other by thumping on the ground with
their hind feet. Along the ground sound carries far; a thump that at six
feet from the earth is not heard at twenty yards will, near the ground,
be heard at least one hundred yards. Rabbits have very keen hearing, and
so might hear this same thump at two hundred yards, and that would reach
from end to end of Olifant's Swamp. A single thump means 'look out'
or 'freeze.' A slow thump thump means 'come.' A fast thump thump means
'danger'; and a very fast thump thump thump means 'run for dear life.'
At another time, when the weather was fine and the bluejays were
quarrelling among themselves, a sure sign that no dangerous foe was
about, Rag began a new study. Molly, by flattening her ears, gave
the sign to squat. Then she ran far away in the thicket and gave the
thumping signal for 'come.' Rag set out at a run to the place but could
not find Molly. He thumped, but got no reply. Setting carefully about
his search he found her foot-scent and, following this strange guide,
that the beasts all know so well and man does not know at all, he worked
out the trail and found her where she was hidden. Thus he got his first
lesson in trailing, and thus it was that the games of hide and seek they
played became the schooling for the serious chase of which there was so
much in his after life.
Before that first season of schooling was over he had learnt all the
principal tricks by which a rabbit lives and in not a few problems
showed himself a veritable genius.
He was an adept at 'tree,' 'dodge,' and 'squat,' he could play
'log-lump,' with 'wind' and 'baulk' with 'back-track' so well that he
scarcely needed any other tricks. He had not yet tried it, but he knew
just how to play 'barb-wire,' which is a new trick of the brilliant
order; he had made a special study of 'sand,' which burns up all scent,
and was deeply versed in 'change-off,' 'fence,' and 'double' as well as
'hole-up,' which is a trick requiring longer notice, and yet he never
forgot that 'lie-low' is the beginning of all wisdom and 'brierbrush'
the only trick that is always safe.
He was taught the signs by which to know all his foes and then the way
to baffle them. For hawks, owls, foxes, hounds, curs, minks, weasels,
cats, skunks, coons, and--men, each have a different plan of pursuit,
and for each and all of these evils he was taught a remedy.
And for knowledge of the enemy's approach he learnt to depend first
on himself and his mother, and then on the bluejay. "Never neglect the
bluejay's warning," said Molly; "he is a mischief-maker, a marplot, and
a thief all the time, but nothing escapes him. He wouldn't mind harming
us, but he cannot, thanks to the briers, and his enemies are ours, so
it is well to heed him. If the woodpecker cries a warning you can trust
him, he is honest; but he is a fool beside the bluejay, and though the
bluejay often tells lies for mischief you are safe to believe him when
he brings ill news."
The barb-wire trick takes a deal of nerve and the best of legs. It was
long before Rag ventured to play it, but as he came to his full powers
it became one of his favorites.
"It's fine play for those who can do it," said Molly. "First you lead
off your dog on a straightaway and warm him up a bit by nearly letting
him catch you. Then keeping just one hop ahead, you lead him at a long
slant full tilt into a breast-high barb-wire. I've seen many a dog and
fox crippled, and one big hound killed outright this way. But I've also
seen more than one rabbit lose his life in trying it."
Rag early learnt what some rabbits never learn at all, that 'hole-up' is
not such a fine ruse as it seems; it may be the certain safety of a wise
rabbit, but soon or late is a sure death-trap to a fool. A young rabbit
always thinks of it first, an old rabbit never tries it till all others
fail. It means escape from a man or dog, a fox or a bird of prey, but it
means sudden death if the foe is a ferret, mink, skunk, or weasel.
There were but two ground-holes in the Swamp. One on the Sunning Bank,
which was a dry sheltered knoll in the South-end. It was open and
sloping to the sun, and here on fine days the Cottontails took their
sun-baths. They stretched out among the fragrant pine needles and
winter-green in odd cat-like positions, and turned slowly over as though
roasting and wishing all sides well done. And they blinked and panted,
and squirmed as if in dreadful pain; yet this was one of the keenest
enjoyments they knew.
Just over the brow of the knoll was a large pine stump. Its grotesque
roots wriggled out above the yellow sand-bank like dragons, and under
their protecting claws a sulky old woodchuck had digged a den long ago.
He became more sour and ill-tempered as weeks went by, and one day
waited to quarrel with Olifant's dog instead of going in so that Molly
Cottontail was able to take possession of the den an hour later.
This, the pine-root hole, was afterward very coolly taken by a
self-sufficient young skunk who with less valor might have enjoyed
greater longevity, for he imagined--that even man with a gun would fly
from him. Instead of keeping Molly from the den for good, therefore, his
reign, like that of a certain Hebrew king, was over in seven days.
The other, the fern-hole, was in a fern thicket next the clover field.
It was small and damp, and useless except as a last retreat. It also
was the work of a woodchuck, a well-meaning friendly neighbor, but
a harebrained youngster whose skin in the form of a whiplash was now
developing higher horse-power in the Olifant working team.
"Simple justice," said the old man, "for that hide was raised on stolen
feed that the team would a' turned into horse-power anyway."
The Cottontails were now sole owners of the holes, and did not go near
them when they could help it, lest anything like a path should be made
that might betray these last retreats to an enemy. There was also the
hollow hickory, which, though nearly fallen, was still green, and had
the great advantage of being open at both ends. This had long been the
residence of one Lotor, a solitary old coon whose ostensible calling was
frog-hunting, and who, like the monks of old, was supposed to abstain
from all flesh food. But it was shrewdly suspected that he needed but
a chance to indulge in a diet of rabbit. When at last one dark night he
was killed while raiding Olifant's henhouse, Molly, so far from feeling
a pang of regret, took possession of his cosy nest with a sense of
unbounded relief.