THE WHISTLER 
“Uncle Jack, I saw something I must ask you about,” 
said Bess. 
“What did you see?” asked Uncle Jack. 
“I don’t know,” replied Bess. “It looked like a stick 
standing straight up from the ground. It was about six 
inches high, and as thick as three of my fingers. But it 
made a queer whistling sound and then it was gone; so 
I know that it wasn’t a stick.” 
“Let us walk back and look for it,” said Uncle Jack. 
“There it is!” exclaimed Bess, pointing. 
“That’s only a stick,” said Buddy. 
“No, it isn’t,” remarked Bess. “Didn’t you hear it 
whistle then? That is some kind of an animal.” 
“You are right, Bess,” said Uncle Jack. “It is a little 
animal, and he is called the Striped Gopher by many 
people. That is not a very good name for him, because 
he is not at all like the Pocket Gopher which digs under 
the ground all the time. But I call him the Striped 
Gopher, anyway, because his real name is too long and 
hard for you to remember.” 
“What is his real name?” asked Fred. 
“The Striped Spermophile,” replied Uncle Jack, smil¬ 
ing. 
113 
