"Pardon me!" said Mr. Coyote very meekly, lowering his voice, but promptly raising it again. "Do you know of any fresh holes around here?"
Benny Badger said that he didn't.
"Then you'd better hunt for one at once," Mr. Coyote declared, sitting down on his haunches as if he hadn't the slightest notion of doing any of the searching himself. "While you're looking, I'll sing a little song," he announced.
"You needn't trouble yourself to do that," Benny Badger told him hastily.
"Oh, it's no trouble at all, I assure you," Mr. Coyote replied.
"Well—don't you do it, anyhow," Benny warned him. "If you sing, you'll spoil everything, because I shall not be able to look for any hole."
"I see," said Mr. Coyote, looking more than pleased. "You'd want to stop and listen to me, of course."
"It's not that," Benny Badger corrected him. "I may as well tell you that I don't like your songs at all."
"I have some that you've never heard," Mr. Coyote explained.
"I don't want to hear them," Benny Badger informed him. "I may as well tell you that your songs drive me almost crazy."