The day was destined to hold for him still another unforgettable event in his life.  Now that he was alone the memory of his master was not so vague as it had been yesterday, and the days before.  Brain-pictures came back to him more vividly as the morning lengthened into afternoon, bridging slowly but surely the gulf that Neewa’s comradeship had wrought.  For a time the exciting thrill of his adventure was gone.  Half a dozen times he hesitated on the point of turning back to Neewa.  It was hunger that always drove him on a little farther.  He found two more crawfish.  Then the creek deepened and its water ran slowly, and was darker.  Twice he chased old rabbits, that got away from him easily.  Once he came within an ace of catching a young one.  Frequently a partridge rose with a thunder of wings.  He saw moose-birds, and jays, and many squirrels.  All about him was meat which it was impossible for him to catch.  Then fortune turned his way.  Poking his head into the end of a hollow log he cornered a rabbit so completely that there was no escape.  During the next few minutes he indulged in the first square meal he had eaten for three days.

So absorbed was he in his feast that he was unconscious of a new arrival on the scene.  He did not hear the coming of Oochak, the fisher-cat; nor, for a few moments, did he smell him.  It was not in Oochak’s nature to make a disturbance.  He was by birth and instinct a valiant hunter and a gentleman, and when he saw Miki (whom he took to be a young wolf) feeding on a fresh kill, he made no move to demand a share for himself.  Nor did he run away.  He would undoubtedly have continued on his way very soon if Miki had not finally sensed his presence, and faced him.

Oochak had come from the other side of the log, and stood not more than six feet distant.  To one who knew as little of his history as Miki there was nothing at all ferocious about him.  He was shaped like his cousins, the weazel, the mink, and the skunk.  He was about half as high as Miki, and fully as long, so that his two pairs of short legs seemed somewhat out of place, as on a dachshund.  He probably weighed between eight and ten pounds, had a bullet head, almost no ears, and atrocious whiskers.  Also he had a bushy tail and snapping little eyes that seemed to bore clean through whatever he looked at.  To Miki his accidental presence was a threat and a challenge.  Besides, Oochak looked like an easy victim if it came to a fight.  So he pulled back his lips and snarled.

Oochak accepted this as an invitation for him to move on, and being a gentleman who respected other people’s preserves he made his apologies by beginning a velvet-footed exit.  This was too much for Miki, who had yet to learn the etiquette of the forest trails.  Oochak was afraid of him.  He was running away!  With a triumphant yelp Miki took after him.  After all, it was simply a mistake in judgment. (Many two-footed animals with bigger brains than Miki’s had made similar mistakes.) For Oochak, attending always to his own business, was, for his size and weight, the greatest little fighter in North America.