“Run till I get out of breath,” replied Bobby. “And if by that time I haven't been able to fool him so that he loses my trail, I take to a tree. Thank goodness, he can't climb a tree. Sometimes I climb from the top of one tree into the top of another, and sometimes into a third and then a fourth, when they are near enough together. That fools the hunters, if they follow Bowser.” “Have you any relatives, Bobby?” asked Old Mother Nature. “I didn't know I had until you mentioned that fellow with the ringed tail you said you would tell us about. I didn't know there was anybody with a tail like mine, and I would like to know about it,” replied Bobby. “He isn't exactly a Raccoon, but he is more nearly related to you than any one else,” replied Old Mother Nature. “His tail shows that. Aside from this, he is nothing like you at all. He is called the Ring-tailed Cat. But he doesn't look any more like a Cat than he does like you, and he isn't related to the Cat family at all. He has several names. He is called the Bassaris, the Civet Cat, Ring-tailed Cat, Coon Cat and Cacomixtle. Instead of being thick and clumsy-looking, as is Bobby here, he is long and rather slender, with a yellowish-brown coat, somewhat grayish on the back and whitish underneath. His head is rather small, long and beautifully shaped. His ears are of good size and very pretty. In some ways he looks like Reddy Fox. But the really beautiful thing about him is his tail. It is nearly as long as his body, thick and beautifully marked with black and white bands. “He is quick and graceful in his movements, and, like Bobby, prefers to be abroad at night. Also, like Bobby, he eats about everything that he can find--flesh, reptiles, fruit, nuts and insects. He lives in the Far Southwest, and also in some of the mountains of the Far West. Why he should be called Civet Cat is more than I can guess, for he is neither a Civet nor a Cat. He is very clever at catching Mice, and sometimes he is kept as a pet, just as Farmer Brown keeps Black Pussy, to catch the Mice about the homes of men. “Now, Bobby, you can trot along home, and I hope all that green corn you have eaten will not give you the stomach ache. To-morrow we will see what we can find out about Buster Bear.” CHAPTER XXXII Buster Bear Nearly Breaks Up School “Has Buster Bear a tail?” asked Old Mother Nature, and her eyes twinkled. “No,” declared Whitefoot the Wood Mouse promptly. “Yes,” contradicted Chatterer the Red Squirrel. “What do you say, Prickly Porky?” Old Mother Nature asked. “I don't think he has any; if he has, I've never seen it,” said Prickly Porky. “That's because you've got poor eyes,” spoke up Jumper the Hare. “He certainly has a tail. It isn't much of a one, but it is a tail. I know because I've seen it many times.” “Woof, woof,” said a deep, rumbly, grumbly voice. “What's going on here? Who is it hasn't any tail?”