Chapter II: Part 2

"Yes! I'm going to invite them to join The Redcaps," Reddy interrupted.

Mr. Crow looked terribly upset, though he claimed it was no more than he had expected. "That will be about all the members you will get," he added.

"Oh, no!" Reddy exclaimed. "You forget Mr. Sapsucker. He has a scarlet crown. I'll want him."

Mr. Crow swallowed hard a few times but said nothing.

"Then there's the Ruby-crowned Kinglet," Reddy went on. "He's going to have an invitation. And so is Mr. Kingbird."

"Not Mr. Kingbird!" spluttered old Mr. Crow. "His crown is orange-colored."

"It's red enough for me," Reddy retorted. "And of course I'll ask little Mr. Chippy to join us."

"Nonsense!" cried Mr. Crow. "His cap is only chestnut-colored."

"It's red enough for me," Reddy Woodpecker repeated in a firm voice.

"My goodness!" Mr. Crow squalled. "I suppose you'll ask the whole Wood Thrush family too--and their cousin Mr. Veery. Their heads are reddish."

"No! They're too brown for me," Reddy Woodpecker decided, to Mr. Crow's great relief.

"What about Buddy Brown Thrasher?" Mr. Crow inquired. "What about his head?"

"Too brown!"

"Well," said old Mr. Crow, "I'm glad to see you have a _little_ sense. But on the whole these Redcaps are going to be a queer lot."

*XVI*

*A SLY TRICK*

This was the truth of the matter: Old Mr. Crow was jealous because he couldn't join Reddy Woodpecker's new club, The Redcaps. For days the old gentleman could speak of nothing else. He went grumbling and sneering up and down Pleasant Valley, stopping to talk with anybody he happened to see. It must be confessed that the neighbors found his ill humor very tiresome.

Meanwhile Reddy Woodpecker's club grew in numbers daily. It made Mr. Crow snort when anybody told him that The Redcaps had another new member.

Then all at once Mr. Crow's manner changed. He became quite sprightly and even winked an eye and cracked a joke now and then. His neighbors wondered what had happened to him.

They soon found out. For Mr. Crow announced that he had discovered a new member for Reddy Woodpecker's club. Strange to say, the old gentleman seemed to take great pride in helping The Redcaps.

"I'm going to take my find to the meeting of the club this afternoon," Mr. Crow told everybody.

"But you're not a member. You can't go to a meeting," his friends objected.

"Can't I?" said Mr. Crow wisely. "The air is free. I can go anywhere I please."

So that afternoon Mr. Crow flew down to the lower end of the meadow, where The Redcaps were gathering. He took a friend with him, whom he left hidden in some reeds at the edge of the swamp.

To Reddy Woodpecker Mr. Crow said, "You'd like another member, I dare say."

"Certainly!" Reddy replied. "The more the merrier--provided they wear red caps."

"I think," said Mr. Crow, "when you see the gentleman I have in mind you'll say he has a red cap."

"Bring him up!" Reddy Woodpecker ordered.

"I can't. He's shy," Mr. Crow explained. "But if you'll come with me you can take a look at him."

So Reddy Woodpecker followed Mr. Crow down to the place where the reeds grew, near the swamp. And there Mr. Crow pointed out a gentleman who did indeed appear to be wearing a red cap.

"Good!" exclaimed Reddy Woodpecker. And to the stranger he called, "I don't know you. But I invite you, sir, to join The Redcaps."

The stranger answered in a muffled voice, "I accept."

Then Reddy took another--and closer--look at him. Reddy couldn't help feeling there was something queer about the fellow. Half hidden as he was among the reeds the stranger was not easy to see.

Suddenly Reddy Woodpecker turned upon Mr. Crow and called him a fraud.

"This person hasn't a red cap," Reddy declared. "I won't have him in my club. I know him now. He's hiding his head under his wing. That patch of scarlet isn't on his head. It's on his shoulder. He's one of that Red-winged Blackbird family that lives in the swamp. And his head is as black as your own, Mr. Crow."

By this time Mr. Crow was dancing up and down and _cawing_ at the top of his lungs.

"He's a member of The Redcaps!" he cried with great glee. "You invited him. And he accepted the invitation."

"Very well!" said Reddy Woodpecker. "But if he belongs to my club he'll have to keep his head under his wing."

"Then I resign!" cried the Red-winged Blackbird.

"Oh, don't do that!" Mr. Crow begged him.

"It's too late," Reddy told the old gentleman. "Your friend is a member of The Redcaps no longer."

*XVII*

*A HUNTING PARTY*

Cuffy Bear was one of those lucky people that eat almost everything. He liked blueberries and he liked honey; he liked maple sugar and he liked baked beans. When he was eating he never complained about his food if only there was enough. Whatever he had, he wanted a plenty of it.

He was wandering through the woods one day when he heard a _tap, tap, tapping_ a little way off. He stopped and listened and sniffed. And then he said, "Woof! It isn't a man. Unless I'm mistaken it's a Woodpecker."

Cuffy Bear turned aside and plunged through the hushes until he came into a little clearing. There, working away upon a dead tree, was Reddy Woodpecker. One couldn't help seeing his bright red cap.

"I say," Cuffy Bear called to him, "let's go hunting!"

Reddy looked around at Cuffy Bear.

"Hunting!" he echoed. "What sort of hunting?"

"Let's go hunting for grubs!" said Cuffy Bear. "I'm very fond of grubs. And I know you are, too."

Now, Reddy Woodpecker never had dreamed that Cuffy Bear would ever invite so small a person as he was to go hunting with him. So it was only to be expected that Reddy should be pleased and even somewhat flattered.

"All right!" he agreed. "When you're ready, say the word."

"There's no time like the present," Cuffy declared. And he went on to explain how they could help each other. "You can scout around for old stumps and fallen trees. And when you find one with plenty of grubs, come right back here at once and lead me to it. I'll tear it open so we can get more grubs in a minute than you can reach in a day by drilling for them one at a time with your bill. I'll show you how to gather grubs in quantities. You'll always want to hunt with me, after you see the way I find 'em."

Reddy Woodpecker nodded his head to show that he understood. Then he started to fly away. But Cuffy Bear called him back.

"One thing more!" he said. "Promise me that when you find a likely tree or stump you won't stop to eat any grubs. You mustn't eat any until I come. It wouldn't be fair."

Reddy Woodpecker promised. Cuffy Bear waved a paw at him to hurry him on his way. And off Reddy flew. He was back again in a few minutes. "I've found one," he said. "Follow me!"

"All right!" Cuffy Bear squealed. He went lumbering through the woods, trying to keep Reddy Woodpecker in sight. In a few moments he gave a frantic roar. "Come back!" he thundered.

Reddy Woodpecker returned.

"Don't fly so fast," Cuffy ordered. "I can't keep up with you. Fly slowly!"

"I can't fly slowly," Reddy retorted. "I don't know how."

"Then go a little way and sit down on a tree and wait for me," Cuffy directed. "But don't go out of my sight!"

Reddy Woodpecker did exactly as he was told. And in that manner they soon came to an old stump which was half crumbled away. "Ah!" cried Cuffy Bear. "This looks like a good one.... I'll show you how to get the grubs." With a few sweeps of his great paws he quickly tore the old stump to pieces.

Reddy Woodpecker gasped at the huge number of lovely fat grubs that Cuffy had uncovered. He gasped again when he saw how fast Cuffy Bear ate them. They were gone in no time.

Licking his chops, Cuffy Bear stepped back and said, "That's the way to do it."

Reddy alighted on what was left of the old stump. He looked at it closely. And at last he actually found one grub that Cuffy Bear hadn't noticed. This Reddy ate, making a wry face.

"What's the matter?" Cuffy Bear inquired. "Isn't it good?"

"It's good enough--what there is of it," Reddy Woodpecker replied.

*XVIII*

*A BIG APPETITE*

"Come, now!" cried Cuffy Bear to Reddy Woodpecker. "We've only begun our hunt. Hurry and find another old, grubby stump!"

Having eaten only one grub, while Cuffy Bear had bolted dozens, Reddy Woodpecker was not feeling very happy. However, he went flying off to search the woods. And it wasn't long before he discovered another stump that looked even more promising than the first one.

Then--well! Reddy must have forgotten his promise that he wouldn't stop to eat a single grub, but would fly straight back to the spot where he had left Cuffy Bear. He clung to the side of the stump with his odd feet, which were made expressly for work of that sort. And he began to drill a hole with his bill. He was sure there was a grub lurking just beneath the brittle bark.

_Tap, tap, tap_! sounded his bill against the stump. _Tap, tap, tap_!

Before Reddy reached the grub he heard a great crash in the bushes. He knew at once that Cuffy Bear had heard the sound of his drilling and had come hurrying after him. "I heard you signaling to me," Cuffy grunted.

He tore that stump open in a twinkling. Reddy Woodpecker had to stand aside and look on while Cuffy Bear devoured every grub in sight. When at last Cuffy drew back and allowed him to search the ruin Reddy couldn't find even one grub. "Come on!" Cuffy urged him. "Let's get on with our hunting!"

But this time Reddy hung back.

"What! Haven't you had enough grubs?" he asked none too pleasantly.

"Enough!" Cuffy repeated. "Why, I'm only beginning to feel hungry. These few grubs that I've eaten have just stirred up my appetite."'

Reddy Woodpecker was astonished.

"Well, if you're hungry, what do you think of me?" he wanted to know.

And now Cuffy Bear was amazed.

"You!" he cried. "Haven't you had a good meal? Didn't you eat a grub off that first stump we found?"

"One grub!" Reddy Woodpecker exclaimed scornfully. "What's one grub?"

"I should think," Cuffy Bear answered, "one grub was a good meal for anybody of your size."

"It's not," Reddy declared. He looked very sullen and glum.

Cuffy Bear was sure that Reddy was mistaken. He even tried to show Reddy that he was wrong.

"_One_ ought to be a big meal for you," he insisted. "Why, last week I went out for my supper one night and I ate only _one_. And it was all I wanted."

"Then you had already had a big dinner," said Reddy Woodpecker.

"I hadn't had any dinner at all!"

Reddy Woodpecker stared at him. He couldn't believe it. There must be something queer about that story, somewhere. At last he asked Cuffy a blunt question.

"You say you ate one," he observed. "One what?"

"Let me see," said Cuffy Bear. "Let me think a moment.... Oh, yes! Now I remember. It was one pig!"

*XIX*

*WHO WAS GREEDY?*

Reddy Woodpecker was very angry with Cuffy Bear. He thought that when they hunted grubs together it was only fair that they should divide the game. So far Cuffy had taken all but one. And that was one that he had overlooked.

"I don't believe I'll hunt with you any more," Reddy Woodpecker told Cuffy.

That news surprised Cuffy Bear. "Why, what's the matter?" he inquired. "Haven't we had good luck?"

Reddy Woodpecker sniffed.

"_You_ have had fine luck," he replied. "But _I_ certainly haven't. When you asked me to hunt grubs with you I expected we would divide the grubs."

Cuffy Bear shook his head doubtfully.

"It's not easy to divide a grub," he said. "That's why I let you have all of that one that you found a while ago."

"You don't understand me," Reddy went on. "What I mean is this: If we find two dozen grubs in a stump you should have one dozen and I should have one dozen."

"I've never hunted in that way before," Cuffy told him. "But since you insist, I'm willing to try it. And maybe it would be only fair if I found the next stump and let you open it."

Now, this was a much better offer than Reddy Woodpecker had expected, so he made haste to accept it.

Then Cuffy Bear went wandering away into the woods. He was gone a long time. But at last he came back and said gruffly, "Follow me!"

They reached, after a while, a spot where Cuffy Bear stopped and pointed a paw towards an old stump.

"There it is," he said. "Now you tear it open."

Reddy Woodpecker alighted upon the stump and clung to it while he drilled into it with his bill, _tap, tap, tap_!

Meanwhile Cuffy Bear watched him impatiently.

"My goodness!" he muttered. "That fellow is slow. I'll never get another grub if I wait for him."

At last, however, Reddy pulled out a grub and ate it.

"My turn next!" growled Cuffy Bear as Reddy Woodpecker promptly went after another.

Well, very soon Reddy thrust his tongue into another hole that he drilled and drew out another grub.

"That's mine!" cried Cuffy Bear.

Reddy Woodpecker tried to let it fall upon the ground. He did not find it easy to drop the grub. His horny tongue had pierced it. And in trying to let go of it he had a mishap. He swallowed the grub.

When Cuffy Bear saw what had happened he let out a frightful roar.

"That was an accident," Reddy explained over his shoulder.

To Cuffy Bear's dismay the same accident happened over and over again. Finally Cuffy couldn't wait another moment. With a terrible growl he rushed up to the stump, while Reddy Woodpecker slipped out of his way just in time. In another instant Cuffy had split the old stump wide open and had his head buried in it.

"Here!" cried Reddy Woodpecker. "How many grubs do you want?"

"Only about a hundred dozen!" Cuffy Bear mumbled.

When he heard that, Reddy Woodpecker shrieked.

"One hundred dozen would feed my whole family," he declared. "I shall never hunt grubs with you again."

"That's a pity," said Cuffy Bear. "But won't you join me to-night? I'm going after different game."

"What's that?" Reddy asked him.

"Pigs!" Cuffy replied.

He couldn't understand why Reddy Woodpecker went off without saying another word.

"He's a queer one," Cuffy muttered. "I don't care if he doesn't hunt with me. He's too greedy."

*XX*

*CATCHING FLIES*

After his children were grown up Reddy Woodpecker had plenty of time to wander about and see all the sights in Pleasant Valley. He had often heard that one of the most curious sights was an odd person known as Ferdinand Frog. So one day Reddy flew down to Black Creek, where this nimble gentleman lived.

Unseen by Mr. Frog, Reddy Woodpecker clung to an old stump that leaned over the water, as if it wanted to enjoy a swim but didn't quite dare take the first plunge. Keeping most of himself hidden, Reddy peeped around the stump and watched Ferdinand Frog as he sat on a flat rock near the bank and caught flies.

Mr. Frog was an expert at that sport. Whenever a fly ventured near enough to him his long tongue darted out of his wide mouth so quickly you could hardly see it. And it darted back again just as fast, bearing the fly upon the end of it.

"I don't see how he spears 'em like that," thought Reddy Woodpecker, "with nothing but air behind them." Mr. Frog's knack was so unusual that at last Reddy Woodpecker couldn't keep silent any longer.

So he called to Mr. Frog, "How do you do----"

"I'm very well, thank you!" cried Ferdinand Frog instantly. "How are you?"

Reddy Woodpecker had to explain that Mr. Frog hadn't understood him.

"What I was going to ask you," he said, "was not 'How do you do?' It was 'How do you do that?'"

"That what?" Ferdinand Frog inquired.

"How do you spear flies with your tongue when they're in the air?" Reddy Woodpecker asked. "I can spear grubs and things with my tongue when they're on a tree. And I can catch flies in my mouth when I'm flying. But I've never learned your trick."

"I don't spear flies," said Mr. Frog.

Of course Reddy Woodpecker thought that Mr. Frog had told a _whopper_. Hadn't he been watching him?

"I don't spear flies with my tongue," Ferdinand Frog went on. "My tongue is sticky. When it touches a fly, he's caught. It's very simple."

"That's an elegant way to catch 'em," Reddy remarked.

"Yes," said Mr. Frog; "and that's an elegant suit you're wearing. Would you mind if I copied it? You know, I'm the well known tailor of Pleasant Valley. And I'm always on the lookout for something different. Your clothes are different from any I've ever seen before. I dare say they'll become quite fashionable in about ten years."

Well, Reddy Woodpecker didn't know whether to be angry or pleased. He had heard that Mr. Frog was queer. But he hadn't supposed Mr. Frog could be as queer as he seemed.

"You may copy my suit if you wish," Reddy blurted at last.

"Good!" the tailor exclaimed. "Come with me to my shop and I'll make some notes."

This was more than Reddy Woodpecker cared to do. "I won't!" he said flatly.

"Tut! Tut!" cried Mr. Frog. "You promised I might copy your suit. You mustn't break your promise."

"I'm not going inside any shop," Reddy declared very firmly.

"Of course not!" said Mr. Frog. "I'll go inside. _You_ can stay outside. And I'll look you over through the doorway and jot down what I need."

"All right!" said Reddy Woodpecker.

So Mr. Frog leaped ashore and gayly led the way to his shop near-by.

*XXI*

*THE ODD MR. FROG*

Reddy Woodpecker stood on the doorstep of Mr. Frog's shop. And inside the tiny building Mr. Frog the tailor squatted cross-legged and scratched upon a flat stone. Now and then he glanced up to look closely at Reddy Woodpecker.

"Colors: red, white and--yes! blue!" Mr. Frog murmured, blinking his bulging eyes at Reddy Woodpecker. "It's a little too blackish for my taste, but it's certainly blue.... A good suit for the Fourth of July!" he muttered. "Just the thing for a clown to wear in a parade of Horribles!"

Mr. Frog's remarks did not please Reddy Woodpecker. In fact they made him very angry. But Mr. Frog didn't appear to notice that. He went right on talking to himself.

"Red head and black tail!" he said, scratching upon his stone all the while. "Black head and red tail would be much better."

"I didn't come here to be abused!" Reddy Woodpecker spluttered.

The tailor paid no heed to Reddy's protest.

"Too much stiffening in the tail!" Mr. Frog mumbled. "Colors too gay for everyday wear! Too loud for the best taste!"

By this time Reddy Woodpecker had become so furious that he couldn't speak.

Meanwhile Mr. Frog continued to look him over calmly, and as his gaze fell at last upon Reddy's feet he began to titter.

"This person's feet are all wrong," he chanted, scratching like mad upon his flat stone. "Never saw a bird before with toes like his. The rule for birds is: three toes in front, one toe in back. This person has two in front and two in back. I _thought_ there was something queer about him."

"Look here!" Reddy Woodpecker burst forth. "I won't stay here any longer. You're making fun of me. I don't care if I did promise. If my clothes are so queer why do you want to copy them?"

"I don't _want_ to copy them," Mr. Frog replied. "I'd _hate_ to copy them."

"Then why did you ask me to stand here in front of your shop while you wrote down all this nonsense?"

"You're mistaken," Mr. Frog told him. "I haven't written a word. I asked you to come here because you look like a customer. It's good business to have customers seen about my shop. I haven't had a _real_ customer this season," he added somewhat sadly. "So you can't blame me if I want people to think I have one at last--now can you?"

Reddy Woodpecker had no patience with him.

"I think you're nothing but a fraud," he declared. "I don't believe you're a tailor at all."

"Dear me!" said Mr. Frog. "Maybe I'm not. Sometimes I've wondered if I wasn't fooling myself."

"You'd better stick to catching flies," Reddy advised him. "That's all you're good for."

"Perhaps you're right," Mr. Frog replied. He seemed quite meek and mournful. But all at once he smiled. "Anyhow," he remarked, "it's lucky that the flies stick to me--now isn't it?"

*XXII*

*DODGING DANGER*

Soon after Reddy Woodpecker settled in Farmer Green's orchard he noticed that a certain person often followed him. The stranger wore gray fur and always flourished a long, bushy tail behind him. He could climb trees as well as Reddy Woodpecker himself. And though he couldn't fly, he was very skillful at leaping from one tree top into another.

Whenever Reddy Woodpecker happened to turn around and spy this lurking stranger the fellow acted as if he hadn't seen Reddy Woodpecker. He would pretend to whisk a bit of bark off the tip of his tail, or arrange his mustache. But the moment Reddy turned his back upon him the stranger would creep a little nearer.

At last this sly person made a quick dash at Reddy Woodpecker one day. He discovered, then, that Reddy was both wide-awake and spry. For Reddy slipped off the tree trunk where he had been clinging and easily escaped the greedy clutches of the stranger.

It's no wonder that Reddy was angry. No one would care to have his breakfast interrupted in such a fashion.

"I knew that sneak meant to catch me if he could," Reddy muttered to himself as he went on with his breakfast.

A few moments later his cousin Mr. Flicker settled upon an ant hill below him.

"Who is that stranger?" Reddy Woodpecker asked Mr. Flicker.

Mr. Flicker glanced at the sly person who was just dodging behind a limb.

"He's no stranger," said Mr. Flicker. "He has lived here a good deal longer than you have. That's Frisky Squirrel."

"Well, he's a little too frisky," Reddy Woodpecker scolded. "He just jumped at me. He has been trying to catch me ever since I came to the farm."

Mr. Flicker laughed.

"That's a regular trick of his," he remarked. "He's always jumping off a fence post at me. But I have no trouble dodging him."

"I don't see why he wants to catch me," Reddy grumbled. "He can't know--yet--that I'm fond of nuts. But in the fall, when the nuts are ripe, I expect I'll make him almost crazy."

The next time Reddy met his tormentor he called to him as pleasantly as if there'd never been any trouble between them.

"How's this place for nuts?"

"Fine!" cried Frisky Squirrel. "The woods beyond the meadow are famous for their beechnuts."

"That's good news," said Reddy. "I'm glad I settled here."'

Frisky gave him a sharp look. "You don't like beechnuts, do you?" he asked.

"Don't I? Oh, don't I?" Reddy cried.

Strange to say Frisky Squirrel knew the answer to that question.

"Oh! You _do_ like them!" he chattered. "Well, maybe there aren't as many beechnuts as I thought. Maybe the beechnutting is poor here. No doubt I'm mistaken about it. Why don't you go over on the other side of Blue Mountain to live? You're _sure_ to find plenty of beechnuts over there next fall."

Reddy Woodpecker laughed heartily. Frisky Squirrel could not deceive him.

*XXIII*

*BEECHNUTS*

"I'm going to stay right here on this farm," Reddy Woodpecker declared. "I like this place."

"Perhaps you expect to leave for the South before the beechnuts are ripe," Frisky Squirrel suggested hopefully.

"Not I!" replied Reddy Woodpecker. "If I leave, I shall wait until the last beechnut is eaten. And no doubt I shall not leave at all. This looks to me like a good place to spend the winter."

Now that Frisky Squirrel knew Reddy Woodpecker ate beechnuts he was more determined than ever to catch him. He had hunted Reddy before. Now he haunted him. He dogged Reddy Woodpecker's footsteps. He crept up behind him and jumped at him a dozen times a day.

Though Frisky didn't know it, he couldn't have captured Reddy Woodpecker in a thousand years. Reddy was too wary to be caught. He always chuckled after dodging. And he always called mockingly, "Not this time, young fellow!"

All summer long the chase went on. Frisky Squirrel seemed to think that if only he hunted Reddy long enough there would come a time when he would catch him napping.

Now, every year as fall drew near it was Frisky's custom to go each day to the woods, to inspect the beechnuts. He went very slyly. It was a business of great importance. Of course he didn't care to have everybody know what he was doing.

Imagine his annoyance, then, on his first trip to the beech grove, to hear Reddy Woodpecker call out to him, "What do you think of 'em? Will they be ready to eat soon?"

Reddy was high up in a beech tree. And Frisky Squirrel was so angry that he could only look up at him and chatter.

"You haven't answered my questions," Reddy observed presently. "Perhaps you aren't a good judge of beechnuts. Perhaps I'd better ask Jasper Jay."

That threat made Frisky Squirrel angrier than ever. He darted up the tree as fast as he could scramble. If he hadn't been so angry he would have known how utterly useless it was to try to catch Reddy Woodpecker when Reddy was looking right at him.

Reddy calmly moved to another tree. Frisky Squirrel leaped into the top of it. Again Reddy moved.

Then Frisky sat up on a limb and glared at him.

"Don't mention these nuts to Jasper Jay!" he cried. "I've been hoping he'd forget about them. Eat what you want--if you must. But for goodness' sake don't go and tell the whole neighborhood about them. Just between you and me, these nuts will be ready to eat as soon as there's a frost to sweeten them."

"You're very kind," Reddy Woodpecker told him. "Very kind indeed!"

Well, in about two weeks there was a frost. When Reddy Woodpecker awoke one morning the fields were white and a thin coating of ice covered the watering-trough in the barnyard.

Some of the birds in Pleasant Valley had long since left for the South. And many of those that hadn't announced that they expected to start for a milder climate that very evening.

The weather soon grew warmer. And on the following day Reddy Woodpecker and Frisky Squirrel met at the beech grove.

"These are good nuts, eh?" called Reddy.

"They'd taste sweeter if you weren't here," Frisky Squirrel mumbled out of a full mouth.

*XXIV*

*THE WINTER'S STORE*

After Frisky Squirrel had enjoyed a hearty meal of beechnuts he began to make hurried trips to a hollow tree nearby. He lived in that tree. It had a fine big storeroom. And there he carried beechnuts in his cheeks. Frisky did not intend to go hungry when winter came.

Meanwhile he watched Reddy Woodpecker out of the corner of his eye. He still hoped to catch Reddy unawares. And at last Frisky saw something that he hadn't expected to see. It made him stop short and stare.

He saw Reddy Woodpecker loosen a bit of bark and hide a beechnut under it. Soon he beheld Reddy stowing beechnuts away in a hole in an old stump.

Frisky Squirrel was wild with rage.

"I told you you might eat as many nuts as you pleased, if only you wouldn't mention beechnuts to Jasper Jay. I didn't say you might hide beechnuts. But I've caught you hoarding them!"

Reddy Woodpecker was not ruffled--not even a single feather.

"I'm putting away a few nuts," he admitted. "I expect to spend the winter here. And of course I shall need something to eat."

"Don't you dare hide another nut!" Frisky Squirrel scolded.

"You're hoarding nuts yourself!"

"That's different," Frisky blustered.

All at once a loud, harsh voice squalled right above their heads. It belonged to Jasper Jay. "A quarrel!" he bawled. "A quarrel over beechnuts! I must do what I can to stop it. I'll gather as many beechnuts as I can; because when they're all gone there won't be anything to quarrel about."

"Another hoarder!" chattered Frisky.

And Jasper Jay was not the last to appear. For Johnnie Green soon came hurrying up with a basket. And Frisky regarded him with great disfavor.

"Another hoarder!" Frisky groaned. And he began to scold Johnnie. "Go away!" he cried. "We don't want you here." To his great disgust Johnnie Green shied a stone at him and told him not to be saucy.

Jasper Jay jeered loudly at Frisky.

"That's what you get for being a pig," he told him. And turning to Reddy Woodpecker, Jasper added, "You see the pigs aren't all in the pigsty!"

Frisky Squirrel pretended that he didn't hear any of Jasper Jay's remarks. He set to work again to gather beechnuts enough to last him all winter and never once stopped to dash at Reddy Woodpecker nor even look at him.

That was only the first of many busy days for Reddy. Having made up his mind to spend the winter at Farmer Green's place he hid nuts everywhere.

No doubt he never could remember all of his hiding places. But he found enough of them when winter came. And though Frisky Squirrel had stowed away all the nuts he could possibly need, he never could bear to watch Reddy Woodpecker pull out a beechnut from beneath a strip of bark.

He said he never did like to see a bird eat nuts.

THE END

* * * * * * * *

_*TUCK-ME-IN TALES*_

(Trademark Registered)

BY
ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY

AUTHOR OF
SLEEPY-TIME TALES
(Trademark Registered)

The Tale of Jolly Robin The Tale of Old Mr. Crow The Tale of Solomon Owl The Tale of Jasper Jay The Tale of Rusty Wren The Tale of Daddy Longlegs The Tale of Kiddie Katydid The Tale of Buster Bumblebee The Tale of Freddie Firefly The Tale of Betsy Butterfly The Tale of Bobby Bobolink The Tale of Chirpy Cricket The Tale of Mrs. Ladybug The Tale of Reddy Woodpecker The Tale of Grandmother Goose