every salivary gland in his mouth working.  It was a wasp’s nest.  Many times in his young life he had seen Noozak, his mother, go up to nests like that, tear them down, crush them under her big paw, and then invite him to the feast of dead wasps within.  For at least a month wasps had been included in his daily fare, and they were as good as anything he knew of.  He approached the nest; Miki followed.  When they were within three feet of it Miki began to take notice of a very distinct and peculiarly disquieting buzzing sound.  Neewa was not at all alarmed; judging the distance of the nest from the ground, he rose on his hind feet, raised his arms, and gave it a fatal tug.

Instantly the drone which Miki had heard changed into the angry buzzing of a saw.  Quick as a flash Neewa’s mother would have had the nest under her paws and the life crushed out of it, while Neewa’s tug had only served partly to dislodge the home of Ahmoo and his dangerous tribe.  And it happened that Ahmoo was at home with three quarters of his warriors.  Before Neewa could give the nest a second tug they were piling out of it in a cloud and suddenly a wild yell of agony rose out of Miki.  Ahmoo himself had landed on the end of the dog’s nose.  Neewa made no sound, but stood for a moment swiping at his face with both paws, while Miki, still yelling, ran the end of his crucified nose into the ground.  In another moment every fighter in Ahmoo’s army was busy.  Suddenly setting up a bawling on his own account Neewa turned tail to the nest and ran.  Miki was not a hair behind him.  In every square inch of his tender hide he felt the red-hot thrust of a needle.  It was Neewa that made the most noise.  His voice was one continuous bawl, and to this bass Miki’s soprano wailing added the touch which would have convinced any passing Indian that the loup-garou devils were having a dance.

Now that their foes were in disorderly flight the wasps, who are rather a chivalrous enemy, would have returned to their upset fortress had not Miki, in his mad flight, chosen one side of a small sapling and Neewa the other—­a misadventure that stopped them with a force almost sufficient to break their necks.  Thereupon a few dozen of Ahmoo’s rear guard started in afresh.  With his fighting blood at last aroused, Neewa swung out and caught Miki where there was almost no hair on his rump.  Already half blinded, and so wrought up with pain and terror that he had lost all sense of judgment or understanding, Miki believed that the sharp dig of Neewa’s razor-like claws was a deeper thrust than usual of the buzzing horrors that overwhelmed him, and with a final shriek he proceeded to throw a fit.