with a fat tail and all kind of rusty gray."

"Now, that's not at all bad, considering you were in something of a
hurry," said Uncle Andy approvingly. "That's really a very good
description of a woodchuck. No one could possibly mistake it for a
lobster or a lion."

"Of course, I couldn't see it very _plain_," added the Babe hastily,
wondering if Uncle Andy was laughing at him. "But why did it run at me
that way?"

"You see," said Uncle Andy seriously, repenting of his mockery, "the
woodchuck is a queer, bad-tempered chap, with more pluck than sense
sometimes. Once in a while he would run at anything that was new and
strange to him, no matter how big it was, just to see if he couldn't
frighten it."

"Would he run at you or Bill that way?" demanded the Babe in a voice of
awe at the very thought of such temerity.

"Oh, he has seen lots of _men_," replied Uncle Andy. "We're nothing new
to him. But most likely he had never seen a small boy before, and he did
not know what kind of an animal it was. The very fact that he did not
know made him angry--he's sometimes so quick-tempered, you know!"

"I'm glad he didn't frighten me--so _very_ much!" murmured the Babe,
beginning to forget the exact degree of his alarm.

"I noticed you got out of his way pretty smart!" said Uncle Andy, eyeing
him from under shaggy brows. "But perhaps that was just because you were