“You promised,” Uncle Sammy reminded him. “And unless you want something you won’t like nearly so well as corn, you had better march right along with me.”
He was so cross that Frisky Squirrel thought he had better mind him. But Frisky wished he had not come. And he wished he had told his mother what he was going to do, too. But he trotted along with Uncle Sammy—only he was careful not to get too close to the tricky old gentleman, for there was no knowing when Uncle Sammy might suddenly decide that he would rather have a nice, tender, young gray squirrel to eat than all the last year’s corn in the world. You see, the little forest-people have to think of many things—especially when they walk out alone with a person like Uncle Sammy Coon.
