“There will never be another one, like you.
There will never be another one who can, do the things you do.”
…”My musk-sac… my power,” cried Skunk as he drifted along the river on his raft of logs.
Someone hailed him from the river-bank, “Yes, your musk-sac came floating past here,” they said, “we tried to retrieve it, but it was floating down the middle of the river.”
“My thanks, nonetheless,” shouted Skunk, “I will return and show you my good will.”
Skunk continued to wail about his lost musk-sac and a little further on somebody else hailed him from the river-bank, “As a matter of fact your musk-sac floated ashore here, but we pushed the filthy thing back into the current.”
“My curse upon you,” shouted Skunk, “I will pass back along this way and you will feel my vengeance.”
So it went with Skunk on his journey.
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