“Waked Coon?” exclaimed the woodchuck slyly. “What! do you mean to say he was not working twice as hard as any of the others?”
“I had been, my good fellow!” said the raccoon loftily. “I had been; and exhausted with my labors. I was snatching a moment’s hard-earned repose. Go on, Cracker.”
“Well,” continued the squirrel, “we held a council, and settled everything beautifully. Uncle Munkle, who has very particularly sharp teeth, was to get into the nut-closet and wait there. The rest of us were to be ready together on the nearest branch, and Coon was to hide himself somewhere close by. No one was to move until Uncle Munkle gave the signal, and then—well, you shall hear how it happened. We all went on with our work until sunset. Then we had supper, and a game of scamper, and then we began to prepare for business. We sharpened our claws on the bark of the trees till they were as sharp as—as—”
“Razors,” suggested Toto.
“Don’t know what that means,” said the squirrel.
“As sharp as Coon’s nose, then; that will do.”
“We filled our cheek-pouches with three-cornered pebbles and nut-shells. Then, when the moon rose, and all the forest was quiet, we retired to our posts. We had waited some time, and were becoming rather impatient, when suddenly a distant sound was heard; the sound of snapping and cracking twigs. It grew louder and louder, louder and louder; and presently we saw a freckled face looking out from among the leaves.
“Cautiously the boy advanced, and soon another boy appeared, not so ill-looking as the first. He carried a bag in his hand. The two came softly to the foot of our tree, and looked up. The leaves twinkled in the moonlight; but all was still, not a sound to be heard. The two whispered together a moment; then the freckled boy began slowly and carefully to climb the tree. We saw his red head coming nearer and nearer, nearer and nearer. We knew he must be near Uncle Munkle’s hole. We all held our breath and listened for the signal.
“Presently the boy stopped climbing, and we saw him stretch out his hand. Then—oh! such a screech! You never heard such a screech, not even from a wild-cat. Another yell, and another. That was the signal. Now we knew what Uncle Munkle meant by saying, ‘I may not give the signal myself, but you will hear it all the same.’
“Instantly we sprang at the boy, ten strong, healthy squirrels, teeth and claws and all. I don’t think he enjoyed himself very much for the next few minutes. He yelled all the time, and at last he lost his hold on the tree, and fell heavily to the ground. Also, Coon had been biting his legs a little. But when he fell, Coon started after the other boy, who was dancing about the foot of the tree in a frenzy of terror and amazement. When he saw Coon coming, he started on a run; but Coon jumped on his back and got him by the ear, and then rode him round and round the forest till he howled as loud as the other one had.”