The Tale of Frisky Squirrel

by Arthur Scott Bailey

“I’ll be very quiet about it,” Henry Skunk replied. “So if he’s asleep I hardly think I’ll disturb him.” And at that Henry set to work.

Now, in order to dig, he had to stick his head into the hole. But he knew he could see Freddie Weasel if Freddie tried to bite his nose; so Henry was not afraid. How he did make the dirt fly! Frisky wished that he could dig like that. He thought it must be great fun. And he watched Henry so closely that he never saw that slim, sneaking form that crept up behind him. And when Frisky felt something jump right on top of him, and when a terrible, sharp pain seized his shoulder, he was scared half out of his wits.

It was Freddie Weasel! He had left his home through another hole, which Frisky knew nothing about.

Frisky Squirrel called for help. He shouted Henry Skunk’s name again and again, as he rolled over and over on the ground, trying to shake Freddie off his back.

But how could Henry Skunk hear him, with his head buried inside the hole? He didn’t know what was happening. And if Frisky and Freddie hadn’t rolled right upon him he probably would never have looked around until it was too late.

But when Henry felt that rolling, tumbling, fighting pair bump against him he drew his head out of the hole in a hurry. And as soon as he saw what was happening he sunk his own sharp teeth deep into Freddie Weasel’s back.

Freddie let go of Frisky Squirrel at once. And he gave Henry Skunk’s nose such a savage nip that Henry just had to squeal—it hurt him so. In order to squeal, of course he had to open his mouth. And when he opened his mouth he had to let go of Freddie Weasel.

That was exactly what Freddie Weasel wanted. He sprang up and dashed into the bushes. He was not afraid of Frisky Squirrel. But Henry Skunk was altogether too big. Freddie did not enjoy fighting him.

Well! Frisky, with his aching shoulder, and Henry Skunk, with his sore nose, went off together. They didn’t say a word to each other, until they reached the hickory tree where Frisky lived. And then all they said was “Good-night!”

Frisky never spied on anybody again. He had learned that it is better not to meddle in other people’s private affairs. So, after all, perhaps it was a good thing that he tried, just once, to catch Freddie Weasel asleep.