So, with a boost from Old Bob the gardener, up went Buddy, like a little brown monkey, and he began shaking the branches of the tree, so that the nuts fell down in a big shower, burrs and all.
When no more fell, Buddy scrambled back down the tree to fill his sack.
Old Dog Sandy wandered off by himself, talking to himself down deep in his throat about what would be likely to happen if he ever should happen to meet that Pin Cushiony Person again. There must be some spot on him not covered up with pins! "And then they'd see!"
Buddy lay face down on the blanket, busily separating the nuts from the burrs, and wondering how it could be possible that such a big tree could ever have grown from such a tiny, three-cornered little seed, when he became aware of voices just above his head.
"I am positive this is the tree that was so full of nuts yesterday," said a small voice, "because I marked it especially for this morning's work. And now there's only one or two clusters left!"
"Never mind, Mother dear," said another little voice, "perhaps the Red Squirrels got here first."
"Ssh," said the first voice, "it was not the Red Squirrels—I smell dog—and I smell man—and they're not far away, either. Look! what is that, on the ground at the foot of the tree?" Buddy looked up, just as the Little Neighbors in the tree looked down. "Hurray," said he, softly, "that's Mother Chipmunk and her family, and they have always been so shy I couldn't get acquainted!" So he kept very still knowing that the curiosity of the little people was so great that they would just have to come down to see what he was doing.
"That's a boy down there, and he has taken all our beech-nuts," said Mother Chipmunk. "That's a shame. He surely doesn't need them, and we do."
"Come on down, Little Neighbors," called Buddy. "I won't hurt you. Come on down and help yourselves."