Larry shook his head.
“I want my woodchuck,” said the boy.
“And she’s half mine,” broke in Alice. “Even if Larry would sell his half, I wouldn’t sell my half! So there, Uncle Elias!”
“Huh!” grunted the farmer, who was a hard and sometimes a cruel man.
“What do you want of a woodchuck, Uncle Elias?” asked Larry. “Do you want one to teach tricks to? If you do I’ll try to catch one for you in my trap.”
“Nonsense! As if I’d try to teach a woodchuck tricks!” snorted the old man, while his dog sniffed and snuffed at the wild smell and Winkie cowered down in her dark box. “If I had that ground-hog of yours—which I’m willing to pay a dollar for”—went on Mr. Tottle, “I’d turn her loose and set Buster on her! Woodchucks are no good!”
“Well, you aren’t going to get this one!” said Larry.
“I guess not!” exclaimed Alice. “I love my woodchuck!”
“Huh!” snorted Uncle Elias. “Come on, Buster!” he called to his dog. “This isn’t any place for us! We don’t like woodchucks!”