Very much shaken Squeaky limped home following the broad trail Snythergen had made through the woods, and found Sancho Wing still chuckling. After talking over their adventure for a little while they settled themselves for a nap.
As soon as Squeaky left him, Snythergen waded into the lake. He found the cool water refreshing to his overheated roots and tattered branches, but when he bent over to drink he came near losing his balance and floating away.
Only while he stood erect and kept in shallow water did his roots find a firm footing on the bottom of the lake. With much splashing of water and stirring of mud, and by wading around the deep places he managed to cross. When no one was looking, he crept into the farmer’s yard, where he hoped to find an end to his troubles. After looking the place over, he decided to plant himself where he would shade the dining-room window and could see what the family had for dinner. It occurred to him that if he became very hungry, he might reach through the window and help himself to a morsel of food. “Turn about is fair play,” he reasoned. “If I provide shade for them, they should not begrudge me a bite to eat now and then!”
Luckily the farmer and his wife were away at camp meeting when Snythergen arrived, and when they returned, it was dark. A crescent moon and the stars revealed but a dusky outline of the place.
“Somehow things don’t look natural around here,” said the farmer when he reached home. “The place seems changed, swelled out! Why, I believe the house has got the mumps!”
“Silas, you don’t think baby has the mumps, do you?” cried his wife, thinking he must be referring to their child.
“No, no, it’s the house that’s got the mumps,” said the farmer.
“Nonsense, Silas, you must be out of your mind!” she said. She saw nothing out of the way, for her eyes sought only the windows of a room on the other side of the house where her small son had been left, and nothing more was said about the matter that night.
