“Hm—” said Uncle Sammy. “If I told you would you get some of it for me? It would be easy for a spry young chap like you to take all you wanted of it. But I’ve a lame knee, you know, and I can’t climb so well as I used to.”
“Of course I’ll get some corn for you,” Frisky promised. “Where is it?”
“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.