Up scrambled Mrs. Woodchuck. Large as Blunk and his father had made the opening, it was hardly large enough for fat Mrs. Woodchuck, and she grunted as she pushed her way through it. Then she came to a sudden stop, half-way.
“Come on!” cried her husband. “Come, mother! We must get away from here and find a new home.”
“I—I can’t!” panted Mrs. Woodchuck. “I can’t come any farther, Nib!”
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because I’m stuck! I—I didn’t know I was so—so stout!”
“Here, children!” cried Mr. Woodchuck. “Catch hold of your mother by her front paws and give her a pull. We’ll have to help her out of the hole.”
[By pulling and hauling, they managed to get Mrs. Woodchuck up and out.] Then the little animal family stood together outside the new hole that had been dug. Down below them was their burrow, no longer of any use, for the two door holes had been closed by the fall of rocks and earth, caused by Mr. Tottle’s blasting.
“Well, we haven’t any home now,” said Mrs. Woodchuck, giving herself a little shake to get rid of the dirt that clung to her fur.
“What shall we do?” Blunk asked sadly.
“Make a new home, of course!” answered his father cheerfully.