"Now, the snake's tail was still around the branch, so he tried furiously to swing the Little Sly One up and crush her against the branch. But she was too heavy and too strong. So he came down, instead, and thrashed wildly among the leaves, trying to get a new grip on her. It was no use, however. He had made too big a mistake. And the next minute he kind of straightened out. The Little Sly One had bitten through his backbone, just behind the head. "Well, now, you see, she had a good square meal before her. But, being very sly, she first looked all round to see if anyone was coming to dine with her. There was no one in sight, but she knew how curiously things get about sometimes. So she growled, on general principles, grabbed the snake in her teeth, and climbed up the tree so she might eat in peace. "The tail was no good to eat, so she bit it off and scornfully let it drop. If that black snake hadn't had a tail, he would never have been eaten by a kitten lynx; so the Little Sly One, as she considered this point, and also thought of the fox, said to herself: 'Well, maybe my tail doesn't amount to much, after all. But there doesn't seem to be any luck in tails, anyway.' "For all that, things in general were keeping her so very, very busy the Little Sly One felt lonely and homesick at times. And especially she felt the need of some kind of a nest which she could call her very own, where she could curl herself up and go to sleep without fear of unpleasant interruptions. "This sort of thing, as you may imagine, was not to be found every day of the week. Most such places had owners, and the Little Sly One was not yet big enough and strong enough to turn the owners out. If she _had_ been big enough-- Well, you see, she hadn't any more conscience than just enough to get along with comfortably. "One fine day, soon after her adventure with the black snake, her search for a home of her own brought her out into the warm sunshine of a little, deserted clearing. It was an old lumber camp, all grown up with tall grass and flowering weeds. The weeds and grass crowded up around the very threshold of the old gray log cabin. "The Little Sly One stopped short, blinking in the strong light and sniffing cautiously. There was no smell of danger--none whatever, but a scent came to her nose that she thought was quite the nicest scent in the world. "Where did it come from? Oh, there is was--that bunch of dull-green weeds! Forgetting prudence, forgetting everything, she ran forward and began rolling herself over and over in ecstasy in the bed of strong-smelling weeds." "Catnip!" suggested the Babe. "Of course!" agreed Uncle Andy impatiently. "What else _could_ it be?