"And what would you do if a little, teeny, black-and-white striped
skunk came at you?" he asked.
"Run like sixty!" responded Uncle Andy, still more promptly.
"But a skunk's so little!" persisted the Babe. "Will he bite?"
"Bite!" retorted Uncle Andy scornfully. "He doesn't have to. It
appears to me you don't know skunks very well!"
"Huh!" said the Babe. "I've smelt 'em. But _smells_ can't hurt
anybody."
"With your notions of skunks," answered Uncle Andy, "you're going to
get yourself into a heap of trouble one of these days. I'd better tell
you about what happened once when a small young skunk, out walking all
by himself in the dewy twilight, happened to meet a large young bear."
Now, the Babe had a great respect for bears.
"Huh!" said he scornfully. "What could _he_ do to a bear?"
"The little skunk's name," said Uncle Andy, paying no heed to the
interruption, "was Stripes Terror-Tail. He was a pretty fellow, black
and glossy, with two clear white stripes down his back on each side of
his backbone. His tail was long and bushy, and carried high in a
graceful curve; and he was about the size of a half-grown kitten.
"Generally he went hunting with the rest of his family, for the
Terror-Tails are affectionate and fond of each other's companionship.
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