THAT SLY OLD WOODCHUCK
By William O. Stoddard
"Deah me! Dey's jes' one moah row ob taters. I's hoein' de bes' I know."
Julius leaned on his hoe for a moment. His bright black face was turned a little anxiously toward the front fence. Over in the road beyond that there stood a white boy, of about his own size, and he was calling:
"Quib! Quib! Come here!"
"Dar he goes!" said Julius. "Dey'e got him agin. He's de bes' dog for woodchucks, he is! An' I can't go 'long. Tell you wot, dough, if I'd ha' t'ought he'd run away 'fore I'd hoed dese taters, I'd nebber hab gibben him dat big bone. De rascal! He's jes' hid it away, somewhar, down 'mong de cabbages."
That was what Quib had done with his precious bone; but now his little, lean, yellow legs were carrying him rapidly down the road, with half a dozen very noisy boys behind him.
"Pete! Pete Corry! Where was it you saw that woodchuck?"
"Finest woodchuck you ever saw in all your life!" was Pete's reply.
"He'll get away from us!"