High in the tree over Billy's head a little chipmunk whisked with a nut
in his mouth. He selected a comfortable rocking branch, unfurled his
tail for a wind shield at his back, and sat up to his supper table as
it were with the nut in his two hands. Something unusual caught his
attention as he was about to attack the nutshell, and he cocked his
little striped head around, up, and down, and took in Billy. Then a
squirrel smile overspread his furry face and a twinkle seemed to come
in his eye. With a wink down toward Billy he went to work. Crack,
crack, crack! The shell was open. Crack! And a large section fell,
whirling spinning down, straight down. The squirrel paused in his
nibbling and cocked an eye again with that mischievous twinkle as if he
enjoyed the joke, watching the light bit of shell in its swift descent,
plump on the end of Billy's nose. It couldn't have hit straighter if
Chippie had been pitcher for the Sabbath Valley base ball team.

Billy opened his eyes with a start and a scowl, and there before him,
glaring like a wild beast, thick lips agap showing gnarled yellow
teeth, wicked eyes, red glittering and murderous, was Pat, ugly,
formidable and threatening!

"Come outta there you little varmint you!" roared Pat. "Come out and
I'll skin the nasty yella hide off'n ya. I gotcha good and hard now
right where I wantcha an' ye won't--"