So she turned away. And sure enough! The moment she moved aside, out of his path, Billy Woodchuck made a bee line for the fence. He was under it in a twinkling.
And the Muley Cow knew what was happening to the clover-tops.
"There's only one thing to do," she muttered to herself. "I'll speak to old dog Spot about this Woodchuck youngster."
So she did, that very evening. When Spot came to drive the cows home she told him that there was a young son of Mrs. Woodchuck who spent most of his time in the clover-patch. "I know you'll be interested to hear the news," she said.
Old Spot shook his head.
"It's no use," he growled. "I've known for weeks what was going on in that field of clover. It's full of Woodchucks. But I never can catch them. They always have a sentinel—a watcher—who whistles if I try to surprise them."
"But I don't want you to catch them," the Muley Cow explained. "I only want you to scare them. And most of all, I want you to frighten that young Billy Woodchuck. He's the greediest of the lot."
"I could chase them home a dozen times a day and they'd always come back again," said old Spot with a sigh.
The Muley Cow saw that she could expect little help from him. And it made her feel a bit peevish.
"We need a good, young dog on this farm," she declared. "One that's not old and fat and lazy!"