Chapter 4

Although Billy Woodchuck brightened considerably--for Mr. Crow's ideas made him more hopeful--he observed that he didn't know Grandfather Mole. "I've heard of him, however," Billy told Mr. Crow. "He lives in Farmer Green's garden. But you know I never go there. I stick to the fields. I don't like to get too far from home."

"For once, then," said old Mr. Crow, "I should break my rule--if I were you--and visit the garden. Find Grandfather Mole and have a talk with him!"

So Billy Woodchuck decided that he would take Mr. Crow's advice. And though he hated to leave the clover-patch he set out that very afternoon to find Grandfather Mole and ask him if he wouldn't like to help dig a winter home in the pasture. But before starting on his journey Billy Woodchuck waited until Mr. Crow came back and told him that Grandfather Mole had just appeared above ground.

Billy Woodchuck hurried off across the pasture as fast as he could scamper. And in a short time he reached Farmer Green's garden. He was somewhat out of breath, because there had been plenty of good things to eat all summer long and he was round as a ball of butter.

Luckily he arrived just in time. Grandfather Mole had been on the point of creeping down into one of his many underground halls when he heard a strange voice say, "Stop a moment, please! I've something important to say to you."

It was a pleasant voice. If it hadn't been, Grandfather Mole wouldn't have waited an instant. He turned his head toward the place where the voice came from and said, "What is it, stranger? And talk fast, because I'm busy. I have some digging to do down below."

XXIII

SEEING A SAMPLE

GRANDFATHER MOLE'S remark made Billy Woodchuck smile.

"I'm a very busy person. I've some digging to do down below," Grandfather had said.

"You're just the one I need to help me!" Billy Woodchuck exclaimed, for he had heard somewhere that if you want a thing done, you should get a busy person to do it.

"I hope you don't want me to catch angleworms for you," Grandfather Mole told him. "The neighbors are always asking me to do that. And I've decided that I can't do it. Somehow I can't help eating 'em myself."

Billy Woodchuck assured him that he had no use at all for angleworms.

"What I want," he explained, "is a good digger to help dig a new house for me."

"Is anybody else going to help too?" Grandfather Mole inquired carefully.

"No--only myself!" Billy said.

"Then I'm sorry; but I can't work for you," Grandfather Mole announced. And he had already turned away, as if the business were ended, when Billy Woodchuck stopped him again.

"Perhaps"--said Billy--"perhaps I can find one or two others besides myself."

"You've missed my point," said Grandfather Mole. "I don't want anybody else to help--not even you! For I won't share the fun of digging with any one."

Well, Billy Woodchuck could hardly believe his own ears.

"You shall have things all your own way!" he cried. "I won't scratch a speck of dirt, I promise you!"

"That's different," Grandfather Mole remarked. "That's more like it. And if you're a person that keeps his promises we shall not have a bit of trouble."

"You can depend on me," Billy Woodchuck told Grandfather Mole. "While you're working for me I'll spend all my time in the clover-patch.... And now," he added, "I'd like to see a sample of your digging."

"Come right this way!" Grandfather Mole directed. And Billy Woodchuck followed, and looked carefully at the small hole that Grandfather Mole pointed to with an air of pride. "Here's one of my doorways," he announced.

With his head on one side, Billy Woodchuck inspected it.

"It's well made," he said, "but of course it's entirely too small for my house. If you work for me you'll have to dig bigger than that."

That speech did not please Grandfather Mole. "Small doorways are the only kind to have," he declared. "I wouldn't make a bigger one for anybody--not even for Farmer Green himself."

Billy Woodchuck soon saw that Grandfather Mole was a stubborn old fellow. No matter what he said, he couldn't get Grandfather Mole to change his opinion. And at last Billy Woodchuck gave up all hope of having Grandfather Mole dig for him.

"A door like yours would be of no use to me," he said dolefully. "I never could squeeze through it."

"My goodness!" Grandfather Mole cried. "How big are you, anyhow?" It must be remembered that he couldn't see his caller.

"I'm big enough," said Billy Woodchuck, "to put you in my pocket, almost."

Grandfather Mole turned pale at the mere thought of such a thing.

"I--I'd no idea I was talking to a monster," he stammered. "I don't believe I want to dig for you, after all." And saying a hasty good afternoon, he popped through his doorway and vanished at Billy Woodchuck's feet.

Greatly disappointed, Billy Woodchuck turned homewards. "I'd have been in a pretty fix if he had finished my house, and I had tried to move my furniture into it," he muttered. "It's lucky I asked to see a sample of Grandfather Mole's work," said Billy Woodchuck.

XXIV

FOLLOWING THE PLOUGH

A GOOD many of Grandfather Mole's neighbors sneered at him, and said he was queer. Mr. Blackbird was one of these scoffers. Though he was a lazy scamp, he always managed to look sleek and well fed. And he liked the same fare that Grandfather Mole did.

"You're a goose to work so hard for your food," Mr. Blackbird jeered one fine spring day as he sat on the garden fence and looked down at Grandfather Mole. "You ought to change your habits. Just look at me! I get plenty to eat. And I do precious little digging for it, believe me! I tell you, there's a better way than yours!"

Naturally, Grandfather Mole couldn't look at Mr. Blackbird. But he raised his head in his odd fashion.

"What's that?" he inquired. "What's a better way than mine?"

But Mr. Blackbird was in no hurry to tell all he knew.

"Suppose," he said, "I should explain my method to you. You could follow it for some weeks and live well without much trouble. And then--when the spring ploughing is finished--I should want you to supply me with angleworms for the same length of time. You know, you can't expect me to give away my secret for nothing."

"But I _like_ to dig," Grandfather Mole replied. "You may have noticed that I am built for that sort of work."

What Grandfather Mole said was true. His drill-like nose, his powerful fore-legs and big, strong feet all served to make him the fastest digger in Pleasant Valley.

Mr. Blackbird regarded him with a sly smile. "You seem to be built for _eating_, too," he observed.

Grandfather Mole soon confessed that Mr. Blackbird's mention of angleworms had made him so hungry that he was ready to promise to do as Mr. Blackbird had proposed.

So Mr. Blackbird cried that it was a bargain.

"And now," he said, "listen carefully while I whisper the secret, for I don't want everybody to hear it.... I follow the plough," he explained. "It turns up a great quantity of angleworms. The only work I have to do is to pick 'em up with my bill."

Somehow Grandfather Mole did not appear as delighted as Mr. Blackbird had expected.

"How can I follow the plough when I can't see where it's going?" he asked.

"Silly!" Mr. Blackbird jeered. "You can find your way along a furrow, can't you?"

Grandfather Mole thought he could do that. "But you're forgetting Henry Hawk!" he reminded Mr. Blackbird. "Farmer Green ploughs in the daytime. And Henry Hawk might see me."

"He wouldn't be likely to notice you if you crept along the bottom of a furrow," Mr. Blackbird assured Grandfather Mole. "Anyhow, I'll be there. And I'll warn you if Henry Hawk appears in the sky."

Grandfather Mole was relieved. And Mr. Blackbird told him to be ready the next morning.

XXV

STUBBORN AS EVER

FARMER GREEN hadn't finished ploughing his first furrow before Mr. Blackbird and Grandfather Mole began breakfasting on the angleworms that the plough turned up.

Very soon Mr. Blackbird began to regret his bargain with Grandfather Mole, for Grandfather was even a greater eater than Mr. Blackbird had supposed. Mr. Blackbird began to be afraid that there wouldn't be worms enough left for himself.

"This is a fine place to dig," he remarked to Grandfather Mole in what seemed a careless way. But he watched Grandfather Mole narrowly, with a grin on his face, to see what the old chap would do.

And after that Grandfather Mole couldn't resist burrowing in the loose earth now and then. It pleased Mr. Blackbird to see him amuse himself in that fashion, because while he was digging Grandfather Mole lost his chance at a good many angleworms. They found their way quickly down Mr. Blackbird's throat. And it was not long before he was in the best of spirits.

Day after day while the spring ploughing went on, the strange pair followed the plough together. And since Grandfather Mole spent more than half the time in digging, Mr. Blackbird felt that on the whole their bargain had proved a good one.

When Farmer Green had finished the last furrow in the field Mr. Blackbird told Grandfather Mole that the ploughing had come to an end.

"And now"--he said--"now it's your turn to carry out your part of the bargain. I showed you where the food was plentiful; and it's time for you to begin furnishing me twenty fat angleworms a day."

Grandfather Mole was amazed. There hadn't been a word said about the _number_ of angleworms he was to supply Mr. Blackbird.

"Twenty!" he exclaimed. "Nobody said 'twenty!'"

"That's so," said Mr. Blackbird. "It was forty."

Grandfather Mole was staggered. But he didn't dare object again, for fear Mr. Blackbird would double the number once more and make it eighty.

"Agreed!" he cried. "And I'll have them ready for you at midnight regularly."

"Midnight!" Mr. Blackbird repeated after him, in great surprise. "Nothing was said about 'midnight!'"

"That's so!" Grandfather Mole admitted. "It was one o'clock in the morning." And in spite of everything Mr. Blackbird said, Grandfather Mole wouldn't change the time. Everybody knew that he was very stubborn.

"A hundred angleworms in the middle of the night wouldn't do me any good," Mr. Blackbird complained. "I'm always asleep at that time."

"You'd better change your habits," Grandfather Mole replied. "You ought to be glad to change your hours for sleep, if it would make things easier for you."

Now that was very like the sort of remark that Mr. Blackbird himself had once made to Grandfather Mole. But coming from Grandfather Mole the suggestion did not please him. He even lost his temper. And he told Grandfather Mole that he was the queerest person in all Pleasant Valley.

But that speech did not trouble Grandfather Mole.

"It's everybody else that's queer--and not I!" he declared.

THE END

SLEEPY-TIME TALES

(Trademark Registered.)

By ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY

AUTHOR OF THE TUCK-ME-IN TALES and SLUMBER-TOWN TALES

* * * * *

COLORED WRAPPER AND TEXT ILLUSTRATIONS DRAWN BY HARRY L. SMITH

* * * * *

This series of animal stories for children from three to eight years, tells of the adventures of the four-footed creatures of our American woods and fields in an amusing way, which delights small two-footed human beings.

THE TALE OF CUFFY BEAR THE TALE OF FRISKY SQUIRREL THE TALE OF TOMMY FOX THE TALE OF FATTY COON THE TALE OF BILLY WOODCHUCK THE TALE OF JIMMY RABBIT THE TALE OF PETER MINK THE TALE OF SANDY CHIPMUNK THE TALE OF BROWNIE BEAVER THE TALE OF PADDY MUSKRAT THE TALE OF FERDINAND FROG THE TALE OF DICKIE DEER MOUSE THE TALE OF TIMOTHY TURTLE THE TALE OF BENNY BADGER THE TALE OF MAJOR MONKEY THE TALE OF GRUMPY WEASEL THE TALE OF GRANDFATHER MOLE THE TALE OF MASTER MEADOW MOUSE

* * * * *

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

* * * * *

TUCK-ME-IN TALES

(Trademark Registered)

By ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY

AUTHOR OF THE SLEEPY-TIME TALES and SLUMBER-TOWN TALES

* * * * *

COLORED WRAPPER AND TEXT ILLUSTRATIONS DRAWN BY HARRY L. SMITH

* * * * *

A delightful and unusual series of bird and insect stories for boys and girls from three to eight years old, or thereabouts.

THE TALE OF JOLLY ROBIN

Jolly Robin spreads happiness everywhere with his merry song.

THE TALE OF OLD MR. CROW

A wise bird was Mr. Crow. He'd laugh when any one tried to catch him.

THE TALE OF SOLOMON OWL

Solomon Owl looked so solemn that many people thought he knew everything.

THE TALE OF JASPER JAY

Jasper Jay was very mischievous. But many of his neighbors liked him.

THE TALE OF RUSTY WREN

Rusty Wren fought bravely to keep all strangers out of his house.

THE TALE OF DADDY LONG-LEGS

Daddy Long-Legs could point in all directions at once--with his different legs.

THE TALE OF KIDDIE KATYDID

He was a musical person and chanted all night during the autumn.

THE TALE OF BETSY BUTTERFLY

Betsy spent most of her time among the flowers.

THE TALE OF BUSTER BUMBLEBEE

Buster was clumsy and blundering, but was known far and wide.

THE TALE OF FREDDIE FIREFLY

Freddie had great sport dancing in the meadow and flashing his light.

THE TALE OF BOBBY BOBOLINK

Bobby had a wonderful voice and loved to sing.

THE TALE OF CHIRPY CRICKET

Chirpy loved to stroll about after dark and "chirp."

THE TALE OF MRS. LADYBUG

Mrs. Ladybug loved to find out what her neighbors were doing and to give them advice.

* * * * *

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

* * * * *

Sleepy-Time Tales (Trademark Registered)

By ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY

_Wrappers and illustrations in color._ _Drawings by HARRY L. SMITH_

These little books for little people tell of the adventures of the four-footed creatures of our American woods and fields in an amusing way which delights small two-footed human beings; and at the same time, in the shortcomings of Cuffy Bear and his neighbors, children are quick to recognize their own faults and to take home the obvious lessons.

Tuck-Me-In Tales (Trademark Registered)

By ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY

_Wrappers and illustrations in color._ _Drawings by HARRY L. SMITH_

The stories of Jolly Robin, Old Mr. Crow and the other birds are as unusual as they are delightful, since this is almost the first time these feathered friends of the kiddies have appeared in print. These bird stories, like the Sleepy-Time animal stories, are based upon actual natural history facts, but while the youngster eagerly listens to them, a moral foundation, of deeper importance than that in natural history, is being laid.

Slumber-Town Tales (Trademark Registered)

By ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY

_Wrappers and illustrations in color._ _Drawings by HARRY L. SMITH_

The kiddies will love these fascinating stories of Farmyard Folk, which tell of the daily doings of Muley Cow, Old Dog Spot, and their companions. These tales will show them that they have much in common with Henrietta Hen and the others, and will develop in them a wholesome respect for those good friends.

Grosset & Dunlap, New York