CHAPTER IV
A BIRD AND A TREE PLAY AT HIDE AND SEEK
Snythergen took off his suit and lay upon the ground. In a minute he was fast asleep. Early the next morning he arose and put on his tree suit but not the xylophone skirt. It was a hot day and it would be cooler without that. And he believed that after their hard day the woodpeckers would sleep till noon. He was right. Not one came to disturb him in the morning. But without them there were plenty of curious eyes staring. For the birds and animals could not understand the change that had come over the strange tree.
The goldfinch did not sleep as late as the woodpeckers, for he did not believe in lying abed in the morning even if he had been up late the night before. When he saw that the tree no longer wore its skirt of xylophone keys he studied Snythergen curiously, hopping from twig to twig and pondering. He discovered that this tree was much warmer than the others—for the heavy tree suit made Snythergen very hot. The little bird wondered if the strange tree would not be a good place in which to build a winter home. This would save him going south every year. In place of a one-room nest, why not build a mansion? He flew away excitedly to draw up the plans.
“At last I can enjoy a little peace,” murmured Snythergen and dozed off for a standing nap. When he awoke, it was with a start. “Stop biting my toes,” he cried. Glancing down he saw—a pig! “He must be hungry,” thought he. “Well, I’ve eaten enough pig in my day. It would only be fair to let one of his kind have a bite of me. But I am thankful his teeth are not sharp. The bites feel like little pinches. I hope he is enjoying himself, but now he is beginning to damage my costume!” He gave a kick and the pig jumped back, so frightened that his hair and his tail stood pompadour. He was pale and trembling and his little eyes grew big and round.
“What in the world is the matter with that tree?” he exclaimed. “I thought it moved!”
It was now Snythergen’s turn to be surprised. “Can he talk, the little rascal? Now how did a pig ever learn to talk? I must investigate.”
Evidently the pig liked the taste of bark; and as Snythergen stood very still the pig’s courage returned. He approached the tree once more, and was just about to take a really good bite when Snythergen cried, “Don’t do that!”
“Who said that?” cried the pig, startled.