Waste seems to me a dreadful sin;
It works to lose and not to win.

Thrift will win; it cannot lose.
Between them 'tis for you to choose.

_Happy Jack._


Striped Chipmunk sat on a mossy old log, laughing until his sides ached.
"Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho! Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho!"
laughed Striped Chipmunk, holding his sides. Over in the Green Forest he
could still hear Chatterer the Red Squirrel crying "Thief! Robber!" as
he chased his big cousin, Happy Jack, and every time he heard it,
Striped Chipmunk laughed harder.

You see, Striped Chipmunk had known all the time that Happy Jack was
spying on him, and he had had no end of fun fooling Happy Jack by
suddenly disappearing and then bobbing into view. He had known that
Happy Jack was following him so as to find out where his storehouse was.
Then Striped Chipmunk had remembered the storehouse of Chatterer the Red
Squirrel. He had filled the pockets in his cheeks with acorns and gone
straight over to Chatterer's storehouse and put them inside, knowing
that Happy Jack would follow him and would think that that was his
storehouse. And that is just what happened.

Then Striped Chipmunk had hidden himself where he could see all that
happened. He had seen Happy Jack look all around, to make sure that no
one was near, and then tear open the little round doorway of Chatterer's
storehouse until it was big enough for him to squeeze through. He had