He has a den in our
clover field, an' he made it so big that the mower dropped in an'
throwed Paw as far as from here to the crick."
"An' the horses, how did they get out?"
"Well! It broke the machine, an' you should have heard Paw swear. My!
but he was a socker. Paw offered me a quarter if I'd kill the old
whaler. I borrowed a steel trap an' set it in the hole, but he'd dig
out under it an' round it every time. I'll bet there ain't anything
smarter'n an old Woodchuck."
"Is he there yet?" asked War Chief No. 2.
"You just bet he is. Why, he has half an acre of clover all eat up."
"Let's try to get him," said Yan. "Can we find him?"
"Well, I should say so. I never come by but I see the old feller. He's
so big he looks like a calf, an' so old an' wicked he's gray-headed."
"Let's have a shot at him," suggested the Woodpecker. "He's fair game.
Maybe your Paw'll give us a quarter each if we kill him."
Guy snickered. "Guess you don't know my Paw," then he giggled
bubblously through his nose again.
Arrived at the edge of the clover, Sam asked, "Where's your
Woodchuck?"
"Right in there."
"I don't see him."
"Well, he's always here."
"Not now, you bet.
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