Old dog Spot never once guessed that there was a back door to the Woodchuck family's home in the pasture. He had chased Mrs. Woodchuck into her house. He had likewise hunted her son Billy into the same front door through which his mother had scrambled only a short time before.

"There must be more of these fat folks about the pasture," Spot thought. "I'll range around a bit and see if I can't surprise another."

So he began running about the pasture in big circles. And he was lucky enough, before long, to come upon Mr. Woodchuck himself, who had dined so heartily on clover heads that he had decided to go to his chamber and take a nap.

Spot was unlucky enough to lose him. Mr. Woodchuck had been feeling quite sleepy. But when he suddenly found himself pursued by a dog he was wide awake in an instant and running like a youngster.

He reached his home just in time.

"Well, that makes the third one that's inside the house," Spot muttered, shortly afterward, as he paused to get his breath.

Little did he know how mistaken he was. There wasn't even one of the Woodchuck family at home; for Mr. Woodchuck had at once hurried out the back way, because he wanted to find his wife and his son and tell them to keep away from old dog Spot.

Soon Spot took a few more turns around the pasture. And this time he ran across Mrs. Woodchuck again.

He had no sooner run her to earth once more than he found Billy for the second time.

"This is a twin brother of the fellow I chased home once before," Spot panted, little dreaming that Billy Woodchuck had come back into the daylight.

"This twin is just as spry as the other one was," Spot gasped as he reached for Billy right at his door—and missed him.

After that the old dog chased Mr. Woodchuck, then his wife, and next their son Billy Woodchuck. And he didn't succeed in catching any one of the three. Each of them beat him in the race to the Woodchuck family's front door.

Old Spot began to feel quite upset.

"I don't see what the matter with me to-day," he puzzled. "I hope I'm not getting so old that I'm weeble." (By that he meant weak and feeble.)

"This last one makes eight that I've followed all the way to this door," Spot growled. "There can't be many more left in the pasture. I'm going to lie down behind this hummock and wait till they come out."

So he hid a little way off and watched closely.

He had been there a long time when Mr. Crow at last flew low over the pasture and alighted in a tree near-by.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked Spot.

"Woodchucks!" said Spot. "This burrow is full of them."

"Are you sure?" Mr. Crow inquired.

"I chased eight of them home," Spot explained.

"That's odd," said Mr. Crow. "There have been only three living here lately. And they don't live here any more."

"They don't!" Spot cried.

"No!" Mr. Crow told him. "They moved this afternoon."

Old dog Spot sprang to his feet.

"Where did they go?" he demanded.

"Ah!" Mr. Crow croaked. "That's telling." And he would say no more.

Then Spot went back to the farmyard.

Meanwhile the Woodchuck family were working hard, digging a new home for themselves at the other end of the pasture. They had all met at last on the edge of the clover patch. And Mr. Woodchuck had declared that they must move at once, because it wasn't safe to live in their old house any longer. He said that old dog Spot would be sure to keep an eye on it for some time.

They soon found a place that suited them all very well.

"We'll live here," said Mr. Woodchuck to his wife and their son Billy. "You two can take turns digging while I sit up and watch for old dog Spot. After all the running I did to-day it wouldn't be safe for me to do any digging."

That was Mr. Woodchuck's plan. And they followed it.