It was so long since Mr. Fox had tried to catch Billy Woodchuck in the hollow stump that Billy had begun to forget his fear of that sly fellow. And so when he met Mr. Fox in the woods one day Billy did not run as he had often done before. To be sure, he did not go too near Mr. Fox. And while they talked Billy watched the sharp-nosed gentleman with one eye; and the other eye he kept on a hole in the stonewall nearby. If Mr. Fox should come too close, Billy was ready to dive into that hole, where Mr. Fox could not reach him.

No one could have been pleasanter than Mr. Fox. “I’m so glad to meet you!” he said. “You’re just the person I want to see. I’ve been told you are very musical.”

Billy Woodchuck didn’t know what he meant. But he did not say so.

“Yes,” Mr. Fox went on. “They say you are the best whistler in Pleasant Valley.”

That made Billy Woodchuck feel very proud.

“I can whistle pretty well,” he said, throwing out his chest.

“And they tell me your two brothers are almost as good whistlers as you are—but not quite,” added Mr. Fox, for he saw that Billy did not like that so well.

“Oh, they can whistle some. But I can beat them,” Billy answered.

“I have an idea,” said Mr. Fox. He really had a great many ideas in his head—more, probably, than any other of the forest-people. “I’m very fond of music and I want to have a fife-and-drum corps.”

“What’s that? I never heard of such a thing,” exclaimed Billy Woodchuck.

“Fifes and drums—they make music, you know,” Mr. Fox explained. “Now, everybody knows that old Mother Grouse’s sons are famous drummers.”

Billy agreed that that was true. He had often heard the Grouse boys drumming in the woods.

“I’ve already spoken to them. And they are asking me every day when we are going to begin to practise,” Mr. Fox continued. “But I couldn’t think of any fifers until I happened to remember about you and your brothers.”

“I don’t know how to play a fife,” said Billy. “I’ve never even seen one.”

“Oh, that’s nothing! You can hold a stick up to your mouth, and wriggle your fingers, and whistle. No one will know that you are not playing a fife. It will sound just the same. And the music will be just as sweet.” Mr. Fox smiled at Billy. And Billy smiled at him.

“Good!” said Billy. “Will you bring the drummers to my house?”

“Well—no! Not just yet!” said Mr. Fox. “We ought to go off in the woods, where nobody can hear us, until we learn a tune. Then we can come and play for your mother. But I wouldn’t say anything to her about the fife-and-drum corps if I were you. Let’s surprise her!”

Billy thought that was a good idea.

“Bring your brothers over to my house late this afternoon,” Mr. Fox said. “I’ll have the Grouse boys there. And we can begin to learn to make music at once.”

“Who will teach us?” asked Billy. “Do you know how to drum or whistle?”

“Don’t you worry about that!” Mr. Fox answered. “I can teach you a thing or two.” And he hurried away to find Mother Grouse’s sons and tell them the good news.