"What a fine night this would be for a hunt!" he said, sniffing the cold bracing air eagerly. "I smell something, surely! What is it?"

"Rats, maybe!" suggested the squirrel. "There is the track of one yonder."

"No, this is not a rat!" said the raccoon, sniffing again. "It's a—it's a cat! that's what it is, a cat! Do you see a track anywhere? I wonder how a cat came here, anyhow. I should like to chase her! It is a long time since I chased a cat."

"Oh, never mind the cat now, Coon!" cried Toto. "We are late for the wedding as it is, with all your prinking. Besides," he added slyly, "I didn't lend you that red cravat to chase cats in."

The raccoon instantly threw off his professional eagerness, and resumed the air of complacent dignity with which he had begun the walk. Never before had he been so fully impressed with the sense of his own charms. The red ribbon which he had begged from Toto set off his dark fur and bright eyes to perfection; and he certainly was a very handsome fellow, as he frisked daintily along, his tail curling gracefully over his back.

"We shall make a sensation!" he said cheerfully; "we shall certainly make a sensation. Don't you think so, Toto?"

"I do, indeed," replied Toto; "though it is a great pity that you and Cracker didn't let me put your tails in curl-papers last night, as I offered to do. You can't think what an improvement it would have been."

"The cow offered to lend me her bell," said Cracker, "to wear round my neck, but it was too big, you know. She's the dearest old thing, that cow! I had a grand game, this morning, jumping over her back and balancing myself on her horns. Why doesn't she live in the house, with the rest of us?"

"Oh!" said Toto, "one couldn't have a cow in the house. She's too big, in the first place; and besides, Granny would not like it. One could not make a companion of a cow! I don't know exactly why, but that sort of animal is entirely different from you wood-creatures."

"The difference is, my dear," said the raccoon, loftily, "that we have been accustomed to good society, and know something of its laws; while persons like Mrs. Cow are absolutely ignorant of such matters. Absolutely ignorant!" he repeated, impressively. "Why, only yesterday I went out to the barn, and being in need of a little exercise, thought I would amuse myself by swinging on her tail. And the creature, instead of saying, 'Mr. Coon, I am sensible of the honor you bestow upon me, but your well-proportioned figure is perhaps heavier than you are aware of,' or something of that sort, just kicked me off, without saying a word. Kicked, Toto! I give you my word for it. Kicked me!"

"Humph!" said the squirrel, "I think I should have done the same in her place. But see, here we are at the cave. Just look at the tracks in the snow! Why, there must be a thousand persons here, at least."

Indeed, the snow was covered in every direction with the prints of little feet,—feet that had hopped, had run, had crept from all sides of the forest, and had met in front of this low opening, from which the brambles and creeping vines had been carefully cleared away. Torches of light-wood were blazing on either side, lighting up the gloomy entrance for several feet, and from within came a confused murmur of many voices, as of hundreds of small creatures squeaking, piping, and chattering in every variety of tone.

"We are late!" said Coon. "Everybody is here. So much the better; we shall make all the more sensation. Toto, is my neck-tie straight?"

"Quite straight," replied Toto. "You look like—like—"

"Like a popinjay!" muttered the squirrel, who had no neck-tie. "Come along, will you, Coon?" And the three companions entered the cave together.

A brilliant scene it was that presented itself before their eyes. The cave was lighted not only by glow-worms, but by light-wood torches stuck in every available crack and cranny of the walls. The floor was sprinkled with fine white sand, clean and glittering, while branches of holly and alder placed in the corners added still more to the general air of festivity. As to the guests, they were evidently enjoying themselves greatly, to judge from the noise they were making. There were a great many of them,—hundreds, or perhaps even thousands, though it was impossible to count them, as they were constantly moving, hopping, leaping, jumping, creeping, trotting, running, even flying. Never were so many tiny creatures seen together. There were woodmice, of course, by the hundred,—old and young, big and little; cousins, uncles, aunts, grandmothers, of the bride and bridegroom. There were respectable field-mice, looking like well-to-do farmers, as indeed they were; frisky kangaroo-mice, leaping about on their long hind-legs, to the admiration of all those whose legs were short. There were all the moles, of both families,—those who wore plain black velvet without any ornament, and those who had lovely rose-colored stars at the end of their noses. These last gentlemen were very aristocratic indeed, and the woodmice felt highly honored by their presence. Besides all these, the squirrels had been invited, and had come in full force, the Grays and the Reds and the Chipmunks; and Mr. and Mrs. Titmouse were there, and old Mrs. Shrew and her daughters, and I don't know how many more. Hundreds and hundreds of guests, none of them bigger than a squirrel, and most of them much smaller.

You can perhaps imagine the effect that was produced on this gay assembly by the sudden appearance among them of a Raccoon and a Boy! There was a confused murmur for a moment, a quick affrighted glance, and then dead silence. Not a creature dared to move; not a tail waved, not a whisker quivered; all the tiny creatures stood as if turned to stone, gazing in mute terror and supplication at their formidable visitors. The bride, who had just entered from a side-cave on her father's arm, prepared to faint; the bridegroom threw his arms about her and glared fiercely at the intruders, his tiny heart swelling as high as if he were a lion instead of a very small red mouse. Mr. Woodmouse, Senior, alone retained his presence of mind. He hastened to greet his formidable guests, and bade them welcome in a voice which, though tremulous, tried hard to be cordial.

"Mr. Coon," he said, "you are welcome, most welcome. Mr. Toto, your most obedient, sir. Cracker, I am delighted to see you. Very good of you all, I'm sure, to honor this little occasion with your distinguished presence. Will you—ah!—hum—will you sit down?"

The little host hesitated over this invitation; it would not be polite to ask his guests to be careful lest they should sit down on the other guests, and yet they were so very large, and took up so much room,—two of them, at least! Coon, delighted at the sensation he had produced, was as gracious as possible, and sitting down with great care so as to avoid any catastrophe, looked about him with so benign an expression that the rest of the company began to take heart, and whiskers were pricked and tails were cocked again.

"This is delightful, Mr. Woodmouse!" he said heartily,—"this is really delightful! A brilliant occasion, indeed! But I do not see your son, the happy— Ah! there he is. Prick-ear, you rascal, come here! Are you too proud to speak to your old friends?"

Thus adjured, the young woodmouse left his bride in her mother's care and came forward, looking half pleased and half angry. "Good evening, Coon!" he said. "I was not sure whether you were a friend, after our last meeting. But I am very glad to see you, and I bear no malice."

And with this he shook paws with an air of magnanimity. Coon rubbed his nose, as he was apt to do when a little confused.

"Oh! ah! to be sure!" he said. "I had quite forgotten that little matter. But say no more about it, my boy; say no more about it! By-gones are by-gones, and we should think of nothing but pleasure on an occasion like the present." With a graceful and condescending wave of his paw he dismissed the past, and continued: "Pray, introduce me to your charming bride! I assure you I am positively longing to make her acquaintance. After you, my boy; after you!" and he crossed the room and joined the bridal party.

"What trouble did your son have with Coon?" Toto inquired of Mr. Woodmouse. "Nothing serious, I trust?"

"Why—ah!—well!" said his host, in some embarrassment, "it came near being serious,—at least Prick-ear thought it did. It seems he met Mr. Coon one day last autumn, when he was bringing home a load of checkerberries for supper. Mr. Coon wanted the checkerberries, and—ah!—in point of fact, ate them; and when Prick-ear remonstrated, he chased him all round the forest, vowing that if he caught him he would—if you will excuse my mentioning such a thing—eat him too. Now, that sort of thing is very painful, Mr. Toto; very painful indeed it is, I assure you, sir. And though Prick-ear escaped by running into a mole's burrow, I must confess that he has not felt kindly toward Mr. Coon since then."

"Very natural," said Toto, gravely. "I don't wonder at it."

"It has occurred to me," continued the woodmouse, "that possibly it may have been only a joke on Mr. Coon's part. Eh? what do you think? Seeing him so friendly and condescending here to-night, one can hardly suppose that he really—eh?—could have intended—"

"He certainly would not do such a thing now," said Toto, decidedly, "certainly not. He has the kindest feeling for all your family."

"A—exactly! exactly!" cried the woodmouse, highly delighted. "Most gratifying, I'm sure. But I see that the ceremony is about to begin. If you would excuse me, Mr. Toto—"

And the little host bowed himself away, leaving Toto to seat himself at leisure and watch the proceedings. These were certainly very interesting. The bride, an extremely pretty little mouse, was attired in a very becoming travelling-dress of brown fur, which fitted her to perfection. The ceremony was performed by a star-nosed mole of high distinction, who delivered a learned and impressive discourse to the young couple, and ended by presenting them with three leaves of wintergreen, of which one was eaten by each separately, while they nibbled the third together, in token of their united lives. When they met in the middle of the leaf, they rubbed noses together, and the ceremony was finished.

Then everybody advanced to rub noses with the bride, and to shake paws with the happy bridegroom. One of the first to do so was the raccoon, who comported himself with a grace and dignity which attracted the admiration of all. The little bride was nearly frightened to death, it is true; but she bore up bravely, for her husband whispered in her ear that Mr. Coon was one of his dearest friends, now.

Meanwhile, no one was enjoying the festivity more thoroughly than our little friend Cracker. He was whisking and frisking about from one group to another, greeting old friends, making new acquaintances, hearing all the wood-gossip of the winter, and telling in return of the wonderful life that he and Bruin and Coon were leading. His own relations were most deeply interested in all he had to tell; but while his cousins were loud in their expressions of delight and of envy, some of the elders shook their heads. Uncle Munkle, a sedate and portly chipmunk, looked very grave as he heard of all the doings at the cottage, and presently he beckoned Cracker to one side, and addressed him in a low tone.

"Cracker, my boy," he said, "I don't quite like all this, do you know? Toto and his grandmother are all very well, though they seem to have a barbarous way of living; but who is this Mrs. Cow, about whom you have so much to say; not a domestic animal, I trust?"

"Why—yes!" Cracker admitted, rather reluctantly, "she is a domestic animal, Uncle; but she is a very good one, I assure you, and not objectionable in any way."

The old chipmunk looked deeply offended. "I did not expect this of you, Cracker!" he said severely, "I did not, indeed. This is the first time, to my knowledge, that a member of my family has had anything to do with a domestic animal. I am disappointed in you, sir; distinctly disappointed!"

There was a pause, in which the delinquent Cracker found nothing to say, and then his uncle added:—

"And in what condition are your teeth, pray? I suppose you are letting them grow, while you eat those wretched messes of soft food. Have you any proper food, at all?"

"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Cracker. "Indeed, Uncle Munkle, my teeth are in excellent condition. Just look at them!" and he exhibited two shining rows of teeth as sharp as those of a newly-set saw. "We have plenty of nuts; more than I ever had before, I assure you. Toto got quantities of them in the autumn, on purpose for me; and there are great heaps of hazels and beech-nuts and hickories piled up in the barn-chamber, where I can go and help myself when I please. And almonds, too!" he added. "Oh, they are so jolly!"

Uncle Munkle looked mollified; he even seemed interested.

"Almonds?" he said. "They are foreign nuts, and don't grow in this part of the world. I tasted some once. Where did Toto get them, do you think?"

"He bought them of a pedler," said Cracker. "I know he would give you some, Uncle, if you asked him. Why won't you come out and see us, some day?"

At this moment a loud and lively whistle was heard,—first three notes of warning, and then Toto's merriest jig,—which put all serious thoughts to flight, and set the whole company dancing. Cracker flew across the room to a charming young red squirrel on whom he had had his eye for some time, made his bow, and was soon showing off to her admiring gaze the fine steps which he had learned in the kitchen at home. The woodmice skipped and hopped merrily about; the kangaroo-mice danced with long, graceful bounds,—three short hops after each one. It is easy to do when you know just how. As for the moles, they ran round and round in a circle, with their noses to the ground, and thought very well of themselves.

Presently Toto changed his tune from a jig to a waltz; and then he and Coon danced together, to the admiration of all beholders. Round they went, and round and round, circling in graceful curves,—Toto never pausing in his whistle, Coon's scarlet neck-tie waving like a banner in the breeze.

"Yes, that is a sight worth seeing!" said a woodmouse to a mole. "It is a pity, just for this once, that you have not eyes to see it."

"Are their coats of black velvet?" inquired the mole. "And have they stars on their noses? Tell me that."

"No," replied the woodmouse.

"I thought as much!" said the mole, contemptuously. "Vulgar people, probably. I have no desire to see them, as you call it. Are we to have anything to eat?" he added. "That is of more consequence, to my mind. One can show one's skill in dancing, but that does not fill the stomach, and mine warns me that it is empty."

At this very moment the music stopped, and the voice of the host was heard announcing that supper was served in the side-cave. The mole waited to hear no more, but rushed as fast as his legs would carry him, following his unerring nose in the direction where the food lay. Bolting into the supper-room, he ran violently against a neatly arranged pyramid of hazel-nuts, and down it came, rattling and tumbling over the greedy mole, and finally burying him completely. The rest of the company coming soberly in, each gentleman with his partner, saw the heaving and quaking mountain of nuts beneath which the mole was struggling, and he was rescued amid much laughter and merriment.

That was a supper indeed! There were nuts of all kinds,—butternuts, chestnuts, beech-nuts, hickories, and hazels. There were huge piles of acorns, of several kinds,—the long slender brown-satin ones, and the fat red-and-brown ones, with a woolly down on them. There were partridge-berries and checkerberries, and piles of fragrant, spicy leaves of wintergreen. And there was sassafras-bark and spruce-gum, and a great dish of golden corn,—a present from the field-cousins. Really, it gives one an appetite only to think of it! And I verily believe that there never was such a nibbling, such a gnawing, such a champing and cracking and throwing away of shells, since first the forest was a forest. When the guests were thirsty, there was root-beer, served in birch-bark goblets; and when one had drunk all the beer one ate the goblet; which was very pleasant, and moreover saved some washing of dishes. And so all were very merry, and the star-nosed moles ate so much that their stars turned purple, and they had to be led home by their fieldmouse neighbors.

At the close of the feast, the bride and groom departed for their own home, which was charmingly fitted up under an elder-bush, from the berries of which they could make their own wine. "Such a convenience!" said all the family. And finally, after a last wild dance, the company separated, the lights were put out, and "the event of the season" was over.