HOW THE WOODPECKERS HELPED
One morning, as Father Thrift was sitting in front of his cave sunning himself, he heard some one crying.
It was a squeaky sort of cry.
Father Thrift could not imagine who it could be that was in trouble.
He looked around, but saw no one.
Then he listened. The sound came from behind a large tree near by. He walked over to the spot. And there sat—who do you suppose?
Little Gray Squirrel, crying into his maple-leaf handkerchief as though his very heart would break!