On Saturday afternoon Tiny and Winkie Weasel went out for a frolic in the forest beyond the river. Reynard Redfox had almost recovered from his severe cold, but he stayed at home, thinking of the golden summer so near at hand with its red strawberries and wild grapes.

Winkie came from a family of very bloodthirsty and suspicious character, but Miss Hare’s teachings had made him as gentle as Weenie Mouse. Although Tiny had been taught to shun weasels, he had become quite fond of Winkie, because he was bright and active.

Side by side they made their way through the deep forest. The birds sang merrily and the sun shone brightly. Lady’s-slippers with lemon-colored pouches and long slender leaves grew in the damp, low grounds. Occasionally a rose-colored one nodded its fairy head at them.

“Summer will come soon,” said Tiny, his voice ringing with happiness.

“Yes,” replied Winkie, as he stopped to sniff at a fallen log. “How glad I am that cold weather has passed away!”

A turn in the path brought them to a clump of hazel bushes, where a queer spectacle met their gaze. An animal covered with mud and moss was trailing along towards the creek. A striped gopher, a queer little animal with bloated cheeks and no neck at all, was annoying the poor creature by jumping upon its back.

“It is a turtle,” said Tiny, who had seen creatures of its kind before. “It has just awakened from its winter slumber. You know that a turtle settles down in the mud as soon as the frost kills the insects, and there it stays until warm weather comes again.”

“Stop teasing that turtle!” cried Winkie to the gopher. “If you do not cease, you shall feel the points of my teeth. Come here.”

The gopher jumped from the turtle’s back, and, holding his head to one side, said good-naturedly:

“I am tired of teasing the slothful turtle, but I am not too tired to run a race with you. Let us see which of us three will beat in a race.”

Winkie readily consented; but, just as they had drawn up in line to take a dash down the narrow pathway, a deep growl resounded through the thicket. Quick as a flash Winkie darted into a hollow stump.

“Follow me,” said the gopher, quite self-possessed, as he disappeared into a hole in the ground. Tiny did not like the idea of being under ground, nor was he fond of animals that burrow; but he obeyed, for he was frightened. He trembled violently.

They entered a dark hall, at the end of which was a little, round room containing a comfortable bed of soft grasses and fur.

“This is a cozy place,” said Tiny, sinking down to rest.

“It is my home,” said the little animal. “I suppose you know that I am Jolly Gopher. It is fortunate that you happened to be so near my residence when the panther happened along. Panthers are rare in this temperate zone, and I am glad of it. What if the savage beast had attacked me while I was riding? I am glad that you like my humble home.”

“It is a restful place for lazy animals, but I should not like to dwell here,” said Tiny, frankly. “I always distrusted creatures that burrow in the ground away from the air and sunshine, until I went to Miss Hare’s school.”

“What has Miss Hare’s school to do with it?” asked the gopher, his mouth open.

“I learned that Mother Earth,” said Tiny, “is kind indeed to poor little defenseless animals, whom she protects from savage animals and hunters. Animals all live where they can have the greatest safety. The fish lives in the depths of the water, the squirrel in the tree, the cricket under a rock, and the gopher in the ground. How fortunate it is that we do not all live in the same place!”

“I am fond of living down in the ground,” resumed the gopher after a moment of silence. “No panther nor any other beast bigger than myself can meddle with my affairs. I saunter forth early in the morning and fill my pockets with fresh, green things. You see that my pockets hang down from my cheeks. I hurry back and stow away my food. When it rains, I stay indoors and sleep and eat. A gopher’s life is a very peaceful one.”

“I wish I might have pockets,” said Tiny, wistfully. “We squirrels don’t have them, you know. I believe I am the only squirrel that carries a hunting bag. It was made for me by a tailor bird. She is a rare and curious bird who makes a nest that looks like a bag. She selects tough leaves and sews them together with long, firm strips of growing plants. She uses her bill as a needle.”

“How remarkable!” exclaimed the gopher. “I think it would be nicer to carry a hunting bag than to have pockets in my cheeks. Sometimes my pockets are so full I can’t get inside my house.”

“The bee also has pockets—six little pockets,” said Tiny, reflectively.

“And the opossum and several other animals have pockets in which they carry their children,” added the gopher wisely.

“You seem to observe things as much as I do,” said Tiny, admiringly.

“Yes, I travel a great deal and have seen many queer things,” replied the gopher, proudly.

“Once I burrowed down into a badger’s home,” he went on. “I saw the nursery with the little badgers playing about in their bed of moss and grass. The mother badger was very civil to me. She is about the only animal that does not fear the sting of a bee, because her skin is so tough and her hair is so thick. It seems to me that of all animals, the badger is treated with the greatest cruelty. When the hunters catch her, they permit their dogs to torture her to death. The harder the poor creature fights to get away, the worse they abuse her, and the greater it pleases the cruel hunters. Sometimes the poor animal endures this brutal treatment for a full day.”

“I have often heard that the verb to badger means to tease, or to torment,” said Tiny.

“I do not know anything about verbs,” replied the gopher, “but I do know that some hunters are very cruel.”

“Have you ever seen a mole’s nest?” asked Tiny.

“Oh, yes, when I was quite small, I had the privilege of visiting one,” replied the gopher enthusiastically. “You may think that the mole is a very stupid animal, but I assure you that he is not.”

“An animal that lives in the dirt all the time couldn’t be very intelligent,” interrupted Tiny. “Besides, his eyes and ears are so small, he surely cannot see and hear well.”

“Little eyes and ears are often more keen than larger ones,” quickly replied Jolly Gopher. “Do you suppose that a giraffe can see or hear better than you can? It is fortunate that the mole has such tiny eyes and ears, otherwise they would catch a great deal of dirt, as the little animal burrows through the earth. The mole is very clean in appearance. He sleeps three hours and then he works three hours as long as he lives. He is a great builder; he sinks wells to quench his thirst; he can run fast; he can swim; and he can fight. He loves his home in the ground. He seldom comes out.”

“Does he have a nice bed like yours?” asked Tiny, much interested.

“Indeed, he has,” said the gopher. “His home is one of the most wonderful things I have ever seen. It is reached by passing through one of several long, straight halls. The walls are so solid that the rain seldom leaks through. I went into one of these halls, and with some difficulty made my way into another one, which was circular. From this hall five passages led to another hall above my head. I stopped at the foot of the nearest passage to rest. Then I went up. The upper hall was circular, but not so large as the lower one. I knew that I was at the summit of the mole hill, for I could plainly hear the birds singing overhead. From this upper circular hall three more passages led down to the main room. I went down into this room and sat very quietly there for a few moments. I wondered why the mole had made it so difficult to get into his house.”

“I suppose he wants to make his house as safe as possible,” suggested the squirrel.

“Precisely so,” said the gopher. “If he and his family hear some vicious animal coming through one of the long halls, they have a chance to escape. The central room is a kind of fortress where they seek protection.”

“Did you ever see any of the little moles?” asked Tiny, excitedly.

“No. I learned afterwards that their nursery was built at a point where two or more of the long halls cross one another. It was situated in an out of the way place with many avenues of escape. Their bed was made of blades of grass and other soft material. I am sure that the nest of a mole is safer than that of a goldfinch hanging high up in a tree. Why does the goldfinch usually build her nest at the end of a branch?”

“Because she likes to have her nest dance up and down and sway about in the breeze,” said Tiny. “The goldfinch builds very well. Her nest is made of lichens and moss and sheep’s wool, and is so fashioned that the little birds cannot roll out. What jolly times the goldfinches must have teetering up and down in a roomy nest on a starlit night!”

“Yet they surely suffer when it storms, while the little moles are never bothered by lightning and thunder,” quickly interposed the gopher. “I suppose it is fortunate that all animals do not have the same ideas about things.”

“I should like to hear something about prairie dogs,” said Tiny, after a while.

“I will gladly tell you,” returned the gopher, settling himself more comfortably. “Sometimes hundreds of prairie dogs live together in one city. It is interesting to watch the round towers of their dwellings. Most prairie dogs have small brown eyes and grayish-red fur. Although they are agile little animals, they do not work much. You would laugh to see them when they bark, for they shake their stumpy tails and jerk to and fro. They yelp like dogs. Some of them act as guards and sit out upon their roofs all day long, looking about the horizon. When an enemy approaches, they bark loudly and rush into their houses, and all the chattering ceases. For a while the city is as quiet as night; but, in a few minutes, many inquisitive, dark eyes peep out to see if danger still threatens them.”

“Their city must be a very lively place,” observed Tiny.

“Many other animals visit there,” said the gopher. “All kinds of vicious creatures flock to a great city, you know. The prairie dogs are often molested by hawks, burrowing owls, and coyotes. I believe I prefer to live in the country.”

“I am quite satisfied with my mode of living, as we all should be,” said Tiny. “I have been greatly benefited by learning about these animals. If one should get blue or homesick or discouraged, it would pay him to visit a gopher and find out how other less fortunate animals live. Then he would return home quite contented with his lot. I thank you for teaching me so much.”

“You are welcome,” replied the gopher. “I, too, have learned from you, so we have been mutually helped. I never knew before that it is wrong to engage in any kind of sport that gives pain to another. Henceforth I will never tease a turtle or take a ride on his back.”

“I must go,” declared Tiny, rising from his downy couch.

“Stay longer,” pleaded the gopher. “The moon rises early, and—”

“That is no reason why I should go to bed late,” interrupted Tiny. “My teacher may worry about me. Goodby, Mr. Gopher.”

“Goodby. You must come back,” replied the gopher sleepily.

Before Tiny could reach the door, his acquaintance with the pockets in his cheeks was fast asleep.

The little red squirrel’s heart beat with joy and thankfulness when the dewy air, laden with the sweet fragrance of early summer, again greeted his nostrils. With nimble leaps he made his way through the leaf-strewn pathway to the edge of the crystal stream. Before him lay the quaint beaver houses that had become so dear to him, while beyond, the pink western skies faded softly into gray, like the happy days of his youth.