“Haven’t you heard? He’s been sick, and when we passed his hole he was too weak to follow us. We called to him, but he couldn’t come with us. He tried it, but he fell out of the tree, and I’m afraid he hurt himself.”
“What!” exclaimed Bumper. “Bobby Gray Squirrel’s back there in the woods!”
“Yes,” nodded Fuzzy Wuzz.
Bumper turned around. “I must go and help him,” he said. “I can’t leave him to die such a horrible death.”
“Oh, you can’t do anything, Bumper,” pleaded Fuzzy Wuzz. “You mustn’t go back. You’ll be killed by the fire, too.”
“I can’t leave Bobby,” replied Bumper. “No, no, I must try to help him. I’ll go back before it’s too late.”
“But what will become of me?” piped up a little voice near his ear, and Spotty the Chameleon changed from a bright green to a sickly yellow.
“I think,” Bumper replied, “you must get across some other way.”
“I’ll try to swim,” piped up White Foot the Deer Mouse. “I feel quite rested now.”
“I don’t have to swim across,” said Lazy the Snail. “I’ll crawl down into the wet mud and be safe.”