sleep—through being disturbed by Mr. Crow and Jasper Jay—that when night came he kept right on sleeping. Yes! Instead of joining his friends in a mad scamper through the woods in the moonlight, Dickie Deer Mouse slept on and on and on, until—something shook the small tree where he lived and made it sway as if an earthquake had come.

Dickie Deer Mouse roused himself with a start. His sharp ears caught a scratching sound. And sticking his head through his doorway, he looked out.

One quick glance told him what was happening. That pudgy rascal, Fatty Coon, was climbing the tree! And every moment brought him nearer and nearer to Dickie's house.

Dickie's big, black eyes bulged more than ever as he whisked out of his house and scampered to the top of the tree, where the branches were so small that Fatty Coon could never follow him.

"Stop!" Fatty Coon cried. "Mr. Crow told me where I could find you. And I want to have a word with you."

"What sort of word?" Dickie Deer Mouse inquired.

"It's about the cornfield," Fatty Coon explained.

"I haven't been near that place since you last saw me there," Dickie declared.

"I know you haven't," Fatty told him. "That's just why I want to have a word with you. I'm in a peck of trouble. And I want you to help me."

Dickie Deer Mouse could scarcely believe it. But being a very polite young gentleman, he told Fatty that he would be glad to do anything in his power to assist him—or at least, anything except to come down out of the top of the tree.