"We stay in these cosy burrows all through the winter snows," he said, "and only come out when the warm sunshine tells us that spring is here. To do this in comfort we work very hard in the fall to fill our storehouses with nuts and grain. This is only one of them—we have others in different places. Help yourself, and take as many nuts as you like," he went on hospitably. "Here—sit in this corner, and I will crack them for you."
But Phil preferred to crack his own nuts; his teeth, though the Beavers scorned them, were strong enough for this, he thought. They tasted like beaked hazel nuts, but where were the beaks? The Hackee laughed at his bewilderment.
"We carry home nuts in our cheek pouches, four at a time (Why four? Because five would be one too many, of course!), and we are much too sensible, as you might have guessed, to hurt ourselves by those sharp points. We bite them off tidily before we push them into our mouths with our fore-paws, as you will see if you watch us one day. It is fine to be a ground Squirrel, and much safer than living in trees. Down here we are safe from all our enemies—or almost all," he added in a whisper. Then his expression changed, and his sharp ears pointed forward.
"Hark!" he cried.
"Chip-munk-chip-munk!" The call was echoed through the galleries, and the Hackee's merry eyes were full of anger.
"How dare he come here!" he cried, "and calling me in that familiar way too! I'll let him know who is master in this burrow!"
The second Hackee came joyously down the passage, heedless of offence.
"Hallo," he cried, looking at Phil, "whom have we got here? That
Nature child? To be sure. I—"
But Hackee the First interrupted him.
"You have no business to come down here uninvited," he said, fiercely. "I would have you know—"