"This is queer," Mr. Catbird muttered. "Whenever I've mewed before he has always come a-running. There must be something uncommonly interesting under that woodpile."
VI
BURIED TREASURE
Henrietta Hen, who was one of the busiest busybodies on the farm, came along and stood and watched old dog Spot while he dug and scratched and howled about the woodpile.
"What on earth is the matter with you?" she asked him. "I don't make half that fuss when I've just laid an egg and really have something to cackle about."
"I've no time to talk with you now," Spot told Henrietta Hen. "Can't you see that Johnnie Green and I are moving the woodpile?"
"Why are you doing that?" Henrietta inquired.
"There's something beneath it that I want," he said hurriedly.
Henrietta Hen gave a sudden start.
"I wonder if it's a weasel!" she exclaimed. And since he didn't reply, and she had learned to be mortally afraid of weasels, she ran off squawking, to hide high up in the haymow in the barn.