“Where you going?” Frisky inquired pleasantly enough.
“Never you mind,” Freddie Weasel answered. “And you’d better keep out of my way, or I’ll bite your head off.”
Frisky Squirrel didn’t know what to say. Very few people—except Jasper Jay and one or two other quarrelsome forest-folk—had ever spoken to him like that. So he just stood still and stared.
That seemed to make Freddie angrier than ever. He darted toward Frisky and tried to bite his neck. But Frisky was quick, too. He ran up a tree before Freddie Weasel could catch him, and smiled at the bad-tempered fellow.
“You’d better go home and take a nap,” Frisky told him. “You’re crosser than ever to-day.”
Freddie looked up at Frisky as if he would just like to get hold of him for about one second.
“I never sleep,” he said. “I’m always awake. And some night when you’re dreaming, I’m coming to your house and I’m going to eat you.” And then he hurried away.
Frisky Squirrel ran down the tree and dashed after Freddie. He didn’t make any noise at all. And he was careful not to let Freddie see him. He was going to find out for himself whether Freddie stayed awake all night.
Mrs. Squirrel was worried because Frisky didn’t come home. Of course he ought to have let her know what he was about. But he felt that he mustn’t lose sight of Freddie. And he saw no one at all by whom he could send word to his mother as to where he was and what he was doing.
Frisky had the busiest sort of time following Freddie. It grew so dark that it was very hard to see Freddie Weasel as he sneaked along through the bushes, hunting for small birds that build their nests on the ground.