Mr. Coyote took no offence at that remark.
"Very well!" he replied. "No doubt they'd want to sing if they came here to help you. And certainly their singing would interfere with your digging—for of course you'd want to stop and listen to it."
Benny Badger's only comment sounded somewhat like "Humph!" But Mr. Coyote must have thought that Benny agreed with him. At least, he nodded his head. And he went on to say that he would be glad to help Benny alone, without calling on his brothers.
Benny Badger made no further objection. To be sure, having one of the Coyote family with him every night would be bad enough. But it was so much better than having seven of them that he began to feel almost pleased. Perhaps he was lucky, after all! And besides, he thought that when Mr. Coyote came to help him catch Ground Squirrels that good-for-nothing scamp would soon tire of digging.
And then a terrible uproar broke the silence. It sounded as if a hundred wolves—or maybe a thousand dogs—had fallen to quarreling a mile away, growling and howling in the distance.
As soon as he heard the noise Mr. Coyote pricked up his ears and sprang to his feet. "I must leave you now," he said. "There are my six brothers! They're going to have a sing. And I promised that I'd join them.... Don't forget!" he added, as he flung a sly smile in Benny Badger's direction. "I'll be here soon after dark to-morrow night."
And the next moment he was gone.
Benny Badger stood and watched him as he loped off across the moonlit plain. And not long afterward a terrific racket—twice as loud as the one before—made Benny bury his head in the place where he had been digging.
"Mr. Coyote has joined his six brothers," he said to himself.