Now, Billy Woodchuck knew that he must beware of boys like Johnnie Green. And more than that, he had learned that boys with sticks are even worse than boys without them. Still, if he did not let Johnnie come too near him, there was not much danger.

So he was not at all frightened when he happened to catch sight of Johnnie Green crossing the pasture with a long stick over his shoulder. He was so far away that Billy Woodchuck sat up on a little hummock and watched him.

Pretty soon the boy saw Billy. And the moment he spied him he stopped and pointed the long stick at the plump young chuck.

That made Billy Woodchuck smile. He was not the least bit afraid. For if Johnnie Green should come nearer he intended to pop inside his mother’s door.

The next moment Billy Woodchuck heard a sound just above his head—a sound like the sighing of the wind in the top of a pine tree. He thought that was very queer, for there was no wind at all that morning. And there was not a tree near him.

Then it thundered. And yet the sun was shining brightly and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

But as he looked once more at Johnnie Green he was astonished to see a small cloud float from the end of that long stick and lose itself in the air.

All at once Billy Woodchuck was frightened. He was afraid of Johnnie Green, for he saw that it was Johnnie who made the wind blow, and turned loose the thunder and the clouds. He noticed that Johnnie was doing something to that strange stick; and he expected that in another minute it would begin to rain. But he didn’t wait to see. He felt that he would be far safer indoors. So he scampered straight home.

“What are you shaking for?” Mrs. Woodchuck asked, as Billy burst in upon her.

“I’m frightened,” her son told her. “I’ve just seen Johnnie Green making thunder and wind and clouds.”

“Be careful!” his mother said. “You know you are not allowed to tell tales.”

“But I did see him,” Billy insisted. “He pointed a stick at me, and the wind blew and it thundered; and I saw a little white cloud come right out of the end of the stick.”

It was Mrs. Woodchuck’s turn to be upset. And she shook even more than Billy had as she said:

“My goodness, child! That was a gun! And it’s a mercy you weren’t shot. Don’t you stir out of this house again to-day—nor you, nor you, nor you, nor you,” she repeated, pointing to each of her other children.

And though Johnnie Green waited for some time, to see if a black head would not peep out of Mrs. Woodchuck’s front door, nothing of the sort happened until after the sun had set and the cows had all gone home for the night. And by that time Johnnie Green was eating his supper.