Undoubtedly, had nothing happened, we would have soon mated, for our liking was mutual; but the something did happen.
One morning, the Swift One not having put in an appearance, Lop-Ear and I were down at the mouth of the slough playing on the logs.

We had scarcely got out on the water, when we were startled by a roar of rage.
It was Red-Eye.

He was crouching on the edge of the timber jam and glowering his hatred at us.

We were badly frightened, for here was no narrow-mouthed cave for refuge.

But the twenty feet of water that intervened gave us temporary safety, and we plucked up courage.
Red-Eye stood up erect and began beating his hairy chest with his fist.
Our two logs were side by side, and we sat on them and laughed at him.
At first our laughter was half-hearted, tinged with fear, but as we became convinced of his impotence we waxed uproarious.