“Oh!” gasped Chatty. His eyes opened wide with fear and surprise. “We must hide.”
For a moment they gazed at the stranger who stood before them. He sniffed the grass that grew around a stump, but watched them steadily. The little foragers remained quite still and struggled for courage.
THE LITTLE FORAGERS REMAINED QUITE STILL AND STRUGGLED FOR COURAGE.
“Be calm,” said the queer creature in a friendly voice. “I am hunting for something green and tender. Fear not, for I never attack such small creatures as you.”
“What are you, sir?” asked Tiny, remembering his mother’s instructions to speak courteously.
“I am a raccoon and I live in that hollow tree,” said the animal. “I once dwelt in a village which lies a hundred miles away. Leachburg is its name. The inhabitants called me Brother Raccoon. My given name is Sambo, my wife’s name is Serena, and we named our sons Simon and Solomon. Formerly I was a pet in a family of people. While with them I learned a number of pretty names for children, as well as many other things.”
“Tell us something about people,” requested Tiny, drawing nearer. At last he stood face to face with the raccoon.
“People live a long time if they take good care of their health,” began Brother Raccoon. “The baby of this family was four years of age.”