254 Trails to Woods and Waters 



Ben filled his pipe, and lighted it with a 

 stick from our camp fire and then began. 



" Well, it was this way. One morning a 

 red squirrel was sitting upon a limb, chatter- 

 ing away for dear life, and having the finest 

 time in the world. Nuts were thick as spat- 

 ter on the tree and the sun was shining 

 brightly, and the squirrel was so glad that he 

 didn't know what to do about it, so he just 

 frisked and chattered. By and by, along 

 came the wood thrush. ' Hold on, Mr. Scat- 

 terbrains,' cried the wood thrush, ' I wonder if 

 you know what a noise you are making? 

 Why, if I had such a voice as you have got I 

 would never let any one hear me using it. It 

 fairly sets my nerves on edge. Why don't 

 you sing like this? ' Wood Thrush swelled 

 out his breast, and poured forth such a sweet 

 song, that the poor squirrel saw at once 

 that his voice was very harsh and dis- 

 cordant. 



" ' There,' said the wood thrush, ending up 

 with a fine trill, ' now I would keep quiet, if I 

 were you.' 



