He also saw that the bees in their mad attack had left their fort unguarded. So he stuck his paw inside the door and broke off a good sized piece of comb full of nice, yellow honey. Then he started for the woods again as fast as he could.

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Coonie did not see Chuck as he shot past him a few minutes later, trying to shake off the bees that still clung to him, as he ran. And a few days later, when they met down by the brook, Coonie pretended not to see him.

“Howdy, Coonie,” Chuck called out in his cheery way. “Where are you going so fast? Well, I never,” he added, noticing Coonie’s bumps and bandages. “Have you been in a fight?”

“Just a little fuss with Farmer Jones’ dog. He’s twice my size and a regular bully,” Coonie answered, as he brushed by Chuck in such a hurry that he did not hear the latter call after him.

“Say, old friend, meet me by the big oak tree in the corner of the woods tomorrow and we’ll go after some more of that good honey!”

It was Chuck’s turn to laugh now, for “he laughs best who laughs last,” you know.

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