To his joy, his kindred had responded, and soon from out of the shadowy places stole one waddling form, then another, until finally five racoons were in the party. Then with the hermit leading them, Indian file, they all made their way leisurely to the distant corn field. In and out among the tall rows of nodding, whispering blades they stole, and standing upon their little black hind feet, they would reach up the corn stalk, and deftly pull down a plump ear with their forepaws, which they used as cleverly as hands. They never made the mistake of selecting blackened, mildewed ears; these and the shrivelled, dwarfed ears they tossed disdainfully aside, and my! what havoc those coons did make in the corn field that night! They would strip off the silky green husks and eat out only the full, milky kernels, smearing their black noses and paws liberally with the juice, which they would hasten to rinse off at the first water they found. [Illustration: OUT POPPED THE FUNNY PAINTED FACE OF THE BADGER.] There were others in the field that night, but they never interfered with one another; there was plenty of corn for all. The woodchuck family also enjoyed sweet corn in the milk and, tempted by the moonlight, they had left their burrow to feast. Off beyond, skirting the edges of the tall corn, skulked a swift, fleeting shadow--Redbrush, the fox, bound for the chicken coops, or hoping to find a covey of quails or partridges sleeping in the edge of the wheat field. Back in a little creek which bubbled in places, broadening out into still, deep haunts for trout and pickerel, the moonlight found its way. Here and there you might discover the huts of the muskrats, mostly deserted, for the inhabitants were all abroad. You might see their brown heads above water, follow the wake of their silvery trails, and hear their playful squeaks as they chased each other from village to village. Oh, there were squeaks a-plenty that night all through the deep clover and among the tall grain, while beneath roofs, fast asleep and dreaming, were the children. For the most part the wild things appeared to live together in peace and harmony; occasionally bitter feelings were felt when the racoons thrust their black paws into a woodpecker's nest and robbed it of eggs. Then, too, old Mrs. Diamond-back, the turtle, would deposit her eggs in a spot which she fondly imagined very secret, failing utterly to look up above, where, from a branch, the greenish inquisitive eyes of the hermit watched her every movement. Taking it altogether, there was little to disturb their happy life then. Times were going to change and very soon in an unexpected fashion.