Chapter 2

"I'll take you to it," said Uncle Sammy--"this very night." He was a suspicious old chap--which means that he was afraid that if he told Frisky then, Frisky would go off alone and take what corn he wanted without giving Uncle Sammy any.

"To-night!" Frisky exclaimed. "Oh, I don't stay out late at night, you know, as you do." Uncle Sammy Coon was known to keep very late hours.

"Well--right after sundown, then," the old rascal said. "We'll meet over by the brook. Don't tell your mother. It will be a pleasant surprise for her, when you bring home a fine bagful of corn."

"All right! I'll be there," Frisky told him.

And sure enough! Just as the sun sank out of sight that evening, Frisky appeared on the bank of the brook. And he hadn't told his mother what he was going to do, either.

Pretty soon Uncle Sammy Coon came along. He had an old sack slung over his shoulder and a wide grin on his face.

"Come on, young man!" he said, "and we'll go over to Farmer Green's place."

"Farmer Green's!" Frisky cried. "I don't want to go there." He remembered the fright he had had when he fell into the flour-barrel in Farmer Green's kitchen.

"You promised," Uncle Sammy reminded him. "And unless you want something you won't like nearly so well as corn, you had better march right along with me."

He was so cross that Frisky Squirrel thought he had better mind him. But Frisky wished he had not come. And he wished he had told his mother what he was going to do, too. But he trotted along with Uncle Sammy--only he was careful not to get too close to the tricky old gentleman, for there was no knowing when Uncle Sammy might suddenly decide that he would rather have a nice, tender, young gray squirrel to eat than all the last year's corn in the world. You see, the little forest-people have to think of many things--especially when they walk out alone with a person like Uncle Sammy Coon.

IX

A Bag of Corn

When Frisky Squirrel and Uncle Sammy Coon arrived at Farmer Green's place, the moon was just rising. It wasn't dark, but Uncle Sammy said that they would have no trouble at all, because Farmer Green's family would be in the house, eating their evening meal.

"There's the corn-house," he said, pointing to an old stone building. "There's a hole in the wall up there under the roof. All you have to do is to climb that tree, run out on that limb, crawl through the hole, and there you are--inside. Then you can bring the corn up to the hole, drop it out onto the ground, and I'll stay outside and pick it up and put it in this sack and watch out for old dog Spot."

"You see," he went on, "I'll be doing most of the work, for I'll be doing three things, while all you'll have to do will be to drop the corn out of the hole in the wall.... But I don't mind doing more than my share."

Frisky Squirrel couldn't quite understand how Uncle Sammy would be doing most of the work. But since the old gentleman said it was so, Frisky supposed it was the truth. There was one thing, however, that puzzled him still more.

"Have you brought a bag for my share of the corn?" he asked.

"Oh, we'll divide this bagful," said Uncle Sammy. "When we get over the hill we'll sit down and divide it."

"All right!" said Frisky. And then he hurried up the tree. In no more than a jiffy he was inside the old stone building; and pretty soon the corn began to patter, patter, down upon the ground where Uncle Sammy waited.

Frisky had been working steadily for some time. And he began to wonder if the bag was not full. He thought he would just peep out of the hole in the wall and see. So he stuck his head out. To his surprise, Uncle Sammy had vanished. And as Frisky looked all around he caught sight of Uncle Sammy Coon with the bag of corn on his back, hurrying up the road. For an old gentleman with a lame knee he was going at a very fast pace.

Frisky Squirrel wondered why he had run away. But he didn't wonder long, for a dog barked; and the bark came from right underneath the hole in the wall. Then Farmer Green came running up the path which led to the corn-house. He had a gun in his hand, too.

Frisky didn't wait to see anything more. He whisked out of the hole, and climbed the roof, and jumped into another tree on the other side of the corn-house. And soon he too was running like mad along the road--only he was going in exactly the opposite direction to that in which Uncle Sammy had vanished.

He never stopped running until he had reached the woods. And since he could not bring any corn home with him, he thought that there was really no sense in telling his mother anything about his adventure.

The next day, as Frisky was playing in a tree-top, he came across Uncle Sammy Coon sunning himself.

"Where's my corn?" asked Frisky Squirrel.

"Corn!" Uncle Sammy exclaimed, as if he had forgotten all about such a thing. "Oh! you mean that corn that we got last night. Now, I'm sorry to say that the bag was so heavy I had to drop it, because old dog Spot was after me, you know. And when I went back to get it, later, it wasn't there.... We'll have to try again, some other time," he added.

Frisky Squirrel began to see that the old fellow had tricked him. Uncle Sammy's sides looked very plump, as if he had had an unusually good meal. And he smiled so pleasantly that Frisky Squirrel became very angry.

"You'll get your own corn next time," he snapped. And as he skipped away he heard Uncle Sammy Coon laugh heartily--just as though something had amused him.

X

Tails and Ears

Among all his friends, Frisky Squirrel liked to play with Jimmy Rabbit best. You see, Jimmy never wanted to eat him. He was so fond of tender young sprouts, and of Farmer Green's vegetables, that he wouldn't have taken even the smallest bite out of Frisky. He would have laughed at the very idea.

There was something else, too, about Jimmy Rabbit, that Frisky Squirrel liked; he was always thinking of new things to do--new places to visit, new games, new tricks to play on other forest-people.

To be sure, Jimmy and Frisky did not always agree--but that is not surprising, because their tastes were so different. For instance, there was nothing that Frisky Squirrel liked better than a hickory nut, while Jimmy Rabbit never would so much as touch one. But if anybody said "cabbage" to Jimmy Rabbit he would have to stop playing and hurry to Farmer Green's garden. You see how fond of cabbage Jimmy was.

There were other things, too, on which Frisky and Jimmy held different views. They were forever disputing about ears and tails. Frisky Squirrel, as you know, had a beautiful, long, bushy tail, and short little ears; while Jimmy Rabbit had ears half as long as he was, and almost no tail at all!

"Really, Frisky, you ought to have that tail of yours cut off," Jimmy said one day. "It's terribly out of fashion to wear a tail so long as yours. As a special favor, I'll be willing to cut it off for you, with a big pair of shears that my mother has."

Frisky Squirrel was just a bit angry at this remark about his tail.

"What about your ears?" he asked. "Not one of the forest-people--except rabbits--wears his ears so long as you do. I must say that they look very queer. How'd you like to have me trim them for you?"

"Tell you what we'll do," Jimmy Rabbit said. "I'll cut off your tail and you'll cut off my ears. What do you say?"

Somehow or other, Frisky did not quite like the idea of losing his tail. He was so used to having it that he was afraid he might miss it dreadfully. And he even thought that he would rather keep it--even if it _was_ out of fashion.

But Jimmy Rabbit ran home to get his mother's shears. And when he came back with them Frisky couldn't think of any good excuse for not letting Jimmy cut off his tail for him. As Jimmy came hopping up with the shears, Frisky Squirrel put out his paw.

"What do you want?" asked Jimmy.

"The shears!" Frisky said. "I'm going to trim your ears, you know."

"Oh--yes!" Jimmy answered. "But I thought of this _first_, you remember. So I'll cut your tail off first. Then you'll have your turn--see?" He kept a firm hold on the shears. And almost before Frisky knew what was happening Jimmy had stepped behind him and had placed Frisky's tail between the big shears.

"Will it hurt?" Frisky asked, as he looked behind him.

"It'll all be over in a jiffy," said Jimmy Rabbit.

XI

Jimmy Rabbit is too Late

It was just as Jimmy Rabbit had said. You remember that as he stood behind Frisky Squirrel's back with his mother's big shears, all ready to cut off Frisky's tail, he had told Frisky that "it would all be over in a jiffy"?

Well, it _was_. But things didn't happen just as Jimmy Rabbit had expected. He had taken a good, firm grip on the shears, and he was just about to shut them upon Frisky's tail with a snap, when somebody called Frisky's name. Frisky knew who it was right away. It was his mother! And like most of us, when our mothers catch us doing something we ought not to do, Frisky was so surprised and so startled that he gave a great jump.

That jump was all that saved Frisky's tail. For just as Mrs. Squirrel called, Jimmy Rabbit shut the shears together as hard as he could. But Jimmy was too late. When Frisky jumped, his tail followed him, of course. It whisked out from between the shears; and they closed upon nothing at all.

"Now, that's too bad!" Jimmy exclaimed. He had been so interested in what he was doing that he had never heard Mrs. Squirrel at all. "Come back here and we'll try again."

The words were scarcely out of Jimmy Rabbit's mouth when he received a terrific box on the ear. Now, it's bad enough for anybody to have his ears boxed. But Jimmy's ears were so big that I dare say it hurt him three times as much as it would have hurt anyone else. And it surprised him, too. For he hadn't heard Mrs. Squirrel as she stole up behind him. Anyhow, he ran off howling, taking his mother's shears with him.

"That awful Rabbit boy!" Mrs. Squirrel said. "A moment more and he would have cut off your beautiful tail--your best feature, too!"

"What's a feature, Mother?" Frisky asked.

"Why--your nose, and your eyes, and your ears--anything of that sort," Mrs. Squirrel said. "It makes me feel faint just to think what almost happened."

"But Jimmy Rabbit says long tails are out of fashion," said Frisky.

"Out of fashion indeed!" Mrs. Squirrel sniffed. "He's jealous--that's what's the trouble with him. He wishes he had a fine, long, bushy tail himself. Goodness me! I'm all of a flutter--I'm so upset." And poor Mrs. Squirrel sat right down and fanned herself with her sun-bonnet. "Now, don't you ever let anybody try to cut off your tail again," she said to Frisky. "You have your father's tail. And everybody always said that he had the most beautiful tail that was ever seen in these woods."

Frisky didn't quite understand what his mother meant. If he had his father's tail, then where was his? And if it was his, then where was his father's? All the way home he kept asking himself questions like those. But whatever the answers might be, Frisky was glad that he still bore that beautiful brush. He began to see that he would have looked very queer, with just a short stub like Jimmy Rabbit's.

XII

Frisky Visits the Gristmill

Frisky Squirrel was very fond of wheat-kernels. Somehow or other he heard that there was a place on Swift River called the gristmill, where there was almost all the wheat in the world--at least that is what Frisky heard. So he started out, one day, to find the gristmill. He thought he could have a very pleasant time there.

Frisky had no trouble at all in finding the gristmill. It was just below the mill-dam. And everybody knew where that was.

The gristmill was an old stone building with a red roof. And once inside it Frisky saw great heaps of wheat-kernels everywhere. And there were sacks and sacks too--some of them stuffed with kernels, which Frisky was so fond of, and some of them filled with a fine white powder, which Frisky didn't like so well, because it got in his eyes, and up his nose, and made him sneeze. It was the same sort of powder into which he had fallen one time at Farmer Green's house. It was flour, of course--you must have guessed that.

The gristmill was a quiet sort of building. There seemed to be nobody there at all. And Frisky helped himself freely to wheat-kernels, for it was very early in the morning and he had not had his breakfast. He was just telling himself what a delightful place the gristmill was, and how glad he was that he had heard about it, when suddenly there was a terrible noise--a grinding, and whirring, and buzzing, and pounding. The very floor trembled and shook, and Frisky expected that in another instant the roof would come crashing down on him.

He leaped away from the bag of wheat-kernels on which he had been breakfasting and he bounded through the great doorway and ran along the rail-fence, far up the road, thinking that each moment would be his last. For Frisky believed that the end of the world had come. And he never stopped running until he was safe inside his mother's house.

Mrs. Squirrel was not at home. And it was so long before she came in and found Frisky that he had begun to think he would never see her again.

"Whatever is the matter?" Mrs. Squirrel asked. Frisky was making a dreadful noise, for he was crying as if he would never stop.

"It's the end of the world!" Frisky sobbed. "I didn't think you were coming back."

Bit by bit Mrs. Squirrel managed to learn where Frisky had been and what had happened to him. And she smiled when she found out what had frightened him. Since it was quite dark inside their home in the hollow limb of the big hickory tree, Frisky could not see his mother smiling. But her voice sounded very cheerful when she said--

"Now stop crying, my son. There's nothing to cry about. The end of the world hasn't come. And _that's_ something you and I don't need to worry about, anyhow."

"What you heard was only the mill-wheels turning. You must have reached the gristmill before the miller had come to begin his day's work. That was why everything was so still. I don't wonder you were frightened when all that noise began. But gristmills are always like that. They make a terrible noise when they grind the wheat."

Frisky Squirrel stopped sobbing then. He was glad that his mother knew exactly what had happened. But he made up his mind that whenever he wanted any wheat-kernels to eat he would not go to the gristmill for them. Luckily the gristmill had not _quite_ all the wheat in the world.

XIII

Fun on the Milldam

There was something about the dam across Swift River that Frisky Squirrel simply couldn't keep away from--after he had forgotten, somewhat, his fright at the gristmill. Only a few days passed after Frisky had run home from the mill in a panic, before he was back again. He liked to run across the top of the dam and look down at his reflection in the water on one side. Here and there a narrow stream spilled over the top of the dam. Frisky felt very brave as he leaped over those little rivulets. And he loved to watch them as they fell in thin, silvery cascades upon the rocks far below. It was great sport.

One day when Frisky reached the dam he heard a dog bark not far away. It was the miller's dog. He had seen Frisky as he crossed the road. And he at once hurried toward him.

Frisky Squirrel was annoyed. He had just been thinking what a good time he was going to have. But when that dog started to bark Frisky knew that his fun was spoiled. He wasn't frightened. Oh, no! But he was sure that the dog would not go away until _he_ did.

"Well, I'll just take one run across the dam," Frisky said to himself. "I'll stay on the other side of the river until he grows tired of waiting. And then I'll come back."

He hurried on to the bank of the river; and in a few moments he was skipping along the dam. The dog was still barking. And Frisky looked around at him. To his great surprise, there was the dog following him, right along the top of the dam. But even then Frisky was not frightened. He simply hurried a little faster. He had not dreamed that the miller's dog would chase him across Swift River. But there he was. And he was running fast, too.

Then something happened that really frightened Frisky Squirrel. At first he could hardly believe it. But it was true. It really was another dog that was barking--another dog that was waiting on the other side of Swift River. And almost as soon as Frisky saw him, that other dog started right across the dam, to meet Frisky!

There was no time to lose. Frisky had to make up his mind very quickly. He gave just one look at the deep mill pond. He could swim--if he had to. But he just hated to get wet. And he knew that the dogs were much faster swimmers than he was. So he looked away from the water with a shudder. And he peeped over the steep side of the dam and gazed at the rocks below, where the water splashed into countless drops.

Those rocks were a long way beneath him. But there was one thing about Frisky Squirrel--he never was the least bit dizzy, or afraid, when he looked down from high places. Perhaps there were too many other things to be afraid of--such as coons and foxes--and dogs.

The miller's dog was drawing nearer now, because Frisky had stopped. And the dog from the other side of the river was only about six jumps away!

Frisky Squirrel didn't wait another instant. He jumped right down the face of the dam. Where he had stood a moment before the two dogs came together with a bump. Probably they would have started to fight, if they had not been so interested in Frisky Squirrel. There they stood, with their necks stretched out over the edge of the dam, watching Frisky as he went rolling and tumbling down to the bed of the river. And when they saw him pick himself up and go skipping from stone to stone until he reached the shore and scampered away, they looked very foolish indeed.

In fact, they felt foolish, too. And without saying one word they turned about and each crept back to his own side of Swift River.

XIV

Mrs. Squirrel Has a Visitor

Fatty Coon was very hungry. And he stole along through the woods very quietly, hoping to find something to eat. To his great joy, it was not long before he discovered Mrs. Squirrel's home. He crept up to the nest silently; for he hoped to catch Mrs. Squirrel and Frisky inside. But Mrs. Squirrel and her son were both away.

Fatty was disappointed. But he made up his mind to go into the house anyhow, to see what he could find there. So he pushed through the narrow doorway. It was a tight squeeze; but Fatty managed to get inside. And there he found a fine lot of beechnuts, which Mrs. Squirrel had brought home and stored, in order to have something to eat during the winter.

Fatty Coon just loved beechnuts. And he squatted down on the floor and began to eat. He ate and ate until he was half-buried in beechnut-shells. And he never stopped until he had finished the very last beechnut. He wished there had been more, though you would think he had had quite enough, for Fatty's sides bulged out so that he was rounder than ever. He smiled as he thought of the surprise Mrs. Squirrel would have when she came home and found her winter food all gone. And then he stood up, shook the shells out of his coat, and started to climb through the doorway.

Fatty was still smiling as he stuck his head through the opening in the tree. But all at once his smile faded away. You remember that he had had hard work to squeeze through the narrow doorway when he entered the house? Well, now his sides stuck out so far that he couldn't get through it at all. He tried and tried; but though he struggled hard, Fatty found that he simply could not squeeze through. He had stuffed himself so full of beechnuts that he was too big to get out of the hole. And there he was--caught fast by his own greediness! Yes! Fatty Coon was a prisoner.

Fatty had smiled because he thought Mrs. Squirrel would be surprised when she came home. And he had not been mistaken about that. When Mrs. Squirrel and her son Frisky scampered up the tree about sundown that evening they had the surprise of their lives--though not just the sort of surprise Fatty had expected.

They looked in through their doorway and scolded. And they ordered Fatty to get out of their house at once.

He would have been glad enough to leave, you may be sure. But he couldn't go just then. And at last Frisky Squirrel and his mother had to go and spend the night in the house of a friend.

When they came back to the old hickory tree the next morning Fatty Coon had gone. He had tried the whole night long to get through the doorway. And at last--just as the sun was rising--he managed to slip out.

Mrs. Squirrel knew that Fatty had had a hard time, because he had left a good deal of his fur behind him. It clung to the sides of the doorway. And Mrs. Squirrel spent half the day picking it off and throwing the beechnut-shells out of her house. She was a very neat housekeeper; and she was quite annoyed to find her house upset.

As for Frisky, he began to bring home another store of nuts that very day. After what had happened neither he nor his mother had any fear that Fatty Coon would ever trouble them again.

XV

Helpful Mr. Crow

Frisky Squirrel's mother had often told him not to have anything to do with Mr. Crow. "He's such a tricky old fellow!" she said. "He seems to have nothing to do but get folks into trouble. Don't go near him, and don't have anything to say to him."

Now, I'm sure Frisky Squirrel wanted to mind his mother. But he couldn't help feeling that she was mistaken about Mr. Crow. He was so solemn, and he always looked so like a preacher--for he usually wore shiny, black clothes--that Frisky Squirrel thought him a very nice old gentleman. And he told such interesting stories, too! Frisky could listen to him by the hour.

So, in spite of his mother's warnings, whenever he met Mr. Crow Frisky Squirrel would always stop and ask the old gentleman how his cold was. You see, Mr. Crow's voice was never what you would call _clear_. You might say that there was a decided croak in it. And very often, even on hot summer days, he would have a muffler wound about his throat.

It happened that one day when Frisky came across Mr. Crow in the woods, something reminded Mr. Crow that he knew where there were plenty of butternuts--just waiting to be eaten.

"Is that so?" Frisky exclaimed. "Have you had some of them?"

"No! I don't care for butternuts," Mr. Crow said, with a slight cough. "I've always considered them bad for my throat. I've made it a rule never to eat them. You don't happen to like them, do you?"

Now, if there was one thing that Frisky Squirrel liked a little better than anything else, it was butternuts. And when he answered Mr. Crow's question he was so excited that his voice shook just the least bit.

"I'm _very_ fond of them," he said.

"Well, well!" Mr. Crow exclaimed. "I'm glad I happened to mention the matter. They're there--heaps of 'em--great brown piles of 'em--thousands of 'em!"

"_Where_ are they?" Frisky asked him eagerly.

"Oh--I thought I told you," Mr. Crow said. "Why--they're in Farmer Green's attic. His boy put them up there to dry. I saw them through the window, this very day."

Frisky Squirrel was disappointed.

"I mustn't go to Farmer Green's house," he said.

"Pooh! Why not?" asked Mr. Crow.

"It isn't safe. I went there once to get some cake, and I nearly lost my life in the kitchen."

"Ah! But this is different," Mr. Crow explained. "You don't have to go into the kitchen at all. All you have to do is to climb that big tree close by the house. And you can hop right through the attic window. There's nobody upstairs in the daytime. In fact, I should call it one of the safest places to go that I know of."