“Boys—three of them—and they all have bags!”
Poor Bushy and Frisky. If there was one thing that these little squirrels loved to do more than another it was to gather nuts—and now their chance was spoiled, for the boys were really there, and would be sure to take every nut they could find.
“They’re working hard,” said Bushy.
“Will they leave any for us?” asked Frisky, not even daring to peep out.
“Sh! Listen, Frisky. I heard one of the boys say that there are some nuts under the other tree. Two of the boys are going there now. It’s Mrs. Bushytail’s tree. But look, Frisky, they have left two of the bags.”
“Where, Bushy?”
“One of the boys is sitting on one of them. He is cracking nuts, I think.”
“And the other bag, Bushy?”
“The other one is close by our tree,” and before any one could say a word, Bushy was out of the hole, down the tree, and close to the big bag. Mrs. Squirrel tried to call him back, but it was of no use. Up and down the bag he ran, first to the top and then to the sides. But he could not get in—the bag was tied tight. But Bushy’s teeth were sharp.
“Dear, dear,” said his mother, “here come the boys back, and they will surely see Bushy—dear, dear.”