IN THE CORNFIELD
In one way, especially, Fatty Coon and Dickie Deer Mouse were alike: They were night-prowlers. When they slept it was usually broad daylight outside, and the birds—except for a few odd fellows like Willie Whip-poor-will and Mr. Night Hawk—were abroad, and singing, and twittering. And when most of the birds went to sleep Dickie and Fatty Coon began to feel quite wide awake.
It was not strange, therefore, that Dickie Deer Mouse was surprised when he found himself face to face with Fatty Coon in the cornfield at midday.
Dickie tried to slip out of sight under a pumpkin vine that grew between the rows; but Fatty Coon saw him before he could hide. And Fatty began to make the queerest noise, as if he were almost choking.
Dickie Deer Mouse stopped. And he trembled the least bit; for Fatty looked terribly fierce. Perhaps (Dickie thought) he was choking with rage.
"Can I help you?" Dickie asked him. "Would you like me to thump you on the back?"
Fatty Coon shook his head. There was nothing the matter with him, except that he had stuffed his mouth so full that he couldn't speak. After swallowing several times he wiped his mouth on the back of his paw—a habit of which his mother had never been able to break him. It was no wonder that dainty Dickie Deer Mouse shuddered again, when Fatty did that.
"May I go and get you a napkin?" Dickie asked, as he edged away.
"No!" Fatty Coon growled. "I've been wanting to have a talk with you. And now that I've found you, you needn't run off."
Then, to Dickie's horror, Fatty stopped talking and licked both his paws.