little hummock, and nearly tipped Frisky over on his back, that he noticed what was happening.

At first Frisky thought he must be dreaming. He nipped himself with his sharp teeth to make sure that he was awake. And when he saw that the rock was really walking right away with him he forgot all about eating the chestnut. He let it fall out of his paws and roll away; for he had never seen a rock move like that before.

It was very exciting, though Frisky had never traveled so slowly before. You see, whenever he went anywhere he always hurried as if he had the most important business to attend to. But it was quite different with that rock. It crawled along just as if it didn’t care whether it ever got anywhere or not.

For a long time Frisky clung there. Now and then he almost slipped off as the rock tilted. But it never tipped quite over; and Frisky managed to stick on. And then, at last, he decided that he had better hop off onto the ground, for he noticed that the rock was moving straight toward the river. It went down the bank at a faster pace. And Frisky leaped off just in time to escape a wetting, for the next moment the rock dropped splash! into the water.

Frisky Squirrel waited on the shore and watched it, with eyes wide open with astonishment. He had expected to see it sink to the bottom of the river. But the rock swam away as easily as you please. That was the strangest part of it all—a rock which could not only walk, but could swim as well!

Frisky turned about and ran for home as fast as he could jump. This time he certainly did have important business. He had such a strange thing to tell his mother! He reached home quite out of breath. And as soon as he could, he told Mrs. Squirrel what he had seen.

That good lady did not know what to think. She had always found her son to be truthful. But this was certainly a queer story. She lay awake a long time that night thinking about the matter. And early the next morning she took Frisky and set out for Swift River. Frisky led her to the very spot where the stone had swum away.

“There it is! There it is now!” he cried, as they paused upon the bank and he pointed down toward the water’s edge.

When Mrs. Squirrel saw what Frisky was pointing at she no longer wondered.

“It’s a mud turtle!” she exclaimed. “You had a ride on a mud turtle and you never knew it.” She smiled, because she was amused; and because she was happy, too. For she knew that Frisky had told the truth.

It was a fine spring day—so pleasant that the children from the little red schoolhouse over the hill came to the woods where Frisky Squirrel lived. They came for the first picnic of the season, and such a noise as they made had never been heard in those woods before.

Frisky Squirrel was frightened at first. But at last he grew accustomed to the uproar, and he crept out on the limb where he lived—not too far away from the door—and looked down and watched the fun.

He was enjoying the picnic quite as much as the merry-makers themselves—until a boy spied him. And then several boys began to throw acorns at him. Frisky did not like that so well; and he hid in a crotch of the tree where he could not be seen from below, until the boys forgot all about him.

When the picnickers went away, Frisky lost no time. He slipped down the tree in a hurry. You see, he had seen the children eating their lunch and he hoped he would be able to find some tidbit which they had left behind them.

Sure enough! there was a feast waiting for him. He was not the only one who was there to enjoy it. For there were three ruffianly red squirrels and a half-dozen chipmunks who appeared on the spot as if by magic.

This second picnic soon came to an end, for the dainties did not last long. But what Frisky found, he enjoyed very much. Most of all he liked a bit of something that was covered with a white coating, which looked a good deal like snow. But it did not taste like snow at all; it was as sweet as sweet could be!

Rusty Red-squirrel found a piece of the same dainty, and he explained to Frisky that it was called “cake.”

“I ate some once at Farmer Green’s house,” he said. “Farmer Green’s wife makes it.” And Frisky decided on the spot that he would pay a visit to the farmhouse. It was too late to go that day. But the next morning Frisky set out for Farmer Green’s house.

In the distance he could see white smoke curling from the red chimney. And though he did not know it, that meant that it was baking-day, and Farmer Green’s wife was just as busy as she could be, making good things for her hungry family.

When Frisky Squirrel reached the farmhouse he found the kitchen window wide open. And after making sure that there was no one inside the room, he stole in and jumped up on a shelf where there was a row of dishes with all sorts of tempting things on them.

To Frisky’s joy, he found a whole cake exactly like the bit he had discovered in the woods. And he ate all he wanted; there seemed to be no reason why he shouldn’t, there was so much of it.

And then a door slammed somewhere. The noise startled Frisky Squirrel and he fell right off the shelf, backwards, and landed plump in the flour-barrel.

He was nearly smothered. And he was frightened, too. But he managed to scramble out again. And you should have seen the white streak that went shooting across the kitchen floor, out the door, and away. It was Frisky Squirrel, of course, covered with flour. He never stopped running until he was half-way home. And then he climbed a tree and sat down to lick himself clean again. To his astonishment, he found that the white powder that covered him tasted very good. It reminded him of wheat. And that is not surprising, since the flour was made of wheat which Farmer Green had grown in his own fields, and which had been ground into flour by the miller who lived further up Swift River.

Though the flour tasted good, Frisky did not like it as well as the cake. He wished he had been covered with that sweet, snowlike frosting.

“The Picnic”

Frisky Squirrel was having his usual fun, leaping through the tree-tops. He went skipping and scrambling