The Wabbit had the drop on the Tracker and the Tracker knew it. The Wabbit's dirk dug into his neck but there was no blood. A drop of gooey amber liquid seeped down what looked like tree trunk shoulders. The Tracker was quiet for now and he waited. So did the Wabbit. But he was waiting because he hadn't a clue what to do next. The Wabbit consulted his teeth but his teeth were on edge and they ground like a sandblaster. "What am I going to do with you?" he wondered. "What do you propose to do?" echoed the Tracker. "I'll just hang on here, talking to myself," muttered the Wabbit. He chattered his teeth in a menacing manner. "You might take me down," said the Tracker, "but we have branches everywhere." The Wabbit thought about it. Close by in the forest, the team crept through the snow. "There he is," said Lapinette. "What shall we do?" asked Skratch. "He seems on top of things," said Wabsworth. With his free paw, the Wabbit searched in his fur. "What are you doing?" asked the Tracker. "I thought I had a saw with me," said the Wabbit, "... a chainsaw." The Tracker shuddered. "Maybe we could do a deal." Now the Wabbit's teeth relaxed. "Don't be a sap. Nothing you have could interest me." The Tracker swayed. "I can get you as much wood as you could ever gnaw." The Wabbit heard his team approaching and he smiled. "Looks like the wood is coming ..."
