Well, the third day Uncle Jerry Chuck once more climbed to the top of the big rock to take his nap in the sun. And this time Billy Woodchuck was there ahead of him.

“Good!” said Uncle Jerry. “I see you’re trying to do better. You’re not late to-day.... Now, keep a sharp ear out while I’m asleep. And don’t forget to give a loud whistle the moment you hear the least noise that—sounds—like——” He was asleep even before he finished what he had started to say. And after taking a good look at him, Billy Woodchuck tiptoed away to a spot where he saw two long ears sticking out from behind a clump of milkweed.

“Is he asleep?” Jimmy Rabbit whispered.

“Yes!” said Billy.

“Then help me carry these pots of paint up where that old fraud is,” said Jimmy Rabbit.

Billy Woodchuck obeyed. There was a pot of black paint and a pot of white. And besides all that, Jimmy had a whole armful of Indian paint brush, which grew thick in Farmer Green’s pasture. He gave Billy Woodchuck a brush.

“Now,” he whispered, “we’ll paint this old fellow black.”

Between them they soon covered Uncle Jerry Chuck with a thick coat of the black paint. And then Jimmy Rabbit stood off and squinted at the sleeper.

“So far, so good!” he said. “And now for the last touch of all! This has to be put on with care, so I shall do it myself.”

And Billy Woodchuck watched him while he painted two broad, white stripes the length of Uncle Jerry’s back. They began on the top of his head, so close together that they made just one line, and ended far apart, on either side of his tail.

“There!” Jimmy Rabbit whispered, when he had finished. “Does he look like anyone you know?”

“He looks exactly like Henry Skunk’s father,” said Billy Woodchuck. And he backed away. He was afraid of the Skunk family. “What are we going to do now?” Billy asked.

“First of all, we’ll hide these pots of paint,” said Jimmy. And as soon as they had done that Jimmy added: “Go up on the rock, whistle as loud as you can, and then run.... I’m going to hurry down the hill and see the fun.”

Billy Woodchuck did exactly as he was told. And in no time at all his shrill whistle had awakened Uncle Jerry Chuck.

The old gentleman sprang up. He saw Billy, scurrying toward home. And without so much as a glance behind him to see what the danger might be, Uncle Jerry tore down the hill. He didn’t know what was chasing him; but he was sure there was something.

On the way home he met Billy Woodchuck’s father. And when Mr. Woodchuck saw him he fell right over backward, he was so frightened. For he, too, was afraid of the Skunk family.

Uncle Jerry thought that was queer. But he didn’t stop. He ran into his house. And there another queer thing happened. The moment his wife caught sight of him she gave a scream and rushed out of the back door.

And for a long, long time after that there wasn’t one of Uncle Jerry’s family or his friends who would have anything to do with him.

He noticed another strange thing, too. Jimmy Rabbit and Billy Woodchuck were always following him. And whenever Uncle Jerry turned around quickly he was sure to catch them laughing.

But whatever the joke was, he never could see it.