George and the automobile a dragon. Anyhow, he did all a hero could. He
jumped straight on to the front wheel and bit wildly at the tire. We
stopped so short that we almost went out on our heads--but too late! The
wheel had gone clean over him. We felt so sorry that we stopped and dug
a hole by the roadside and gave the flattened little hero a very
distinguished burial."

"Oh, but he must have been crazy!" exclaimed the Babe, rubbing his leg
thoughtfully and congratulating himself that he had not lingered to study
the being which had rushed at him in the underbrush.

"Perhaps," said Uncle Andy dryly. "If I remember rightly, that's just
what has been said of lots of heroes before now."

He tapped his pipe on the log beside him to knock out the ashes, and
proceeded thoughtfully to fill it up again. This second filling the Babe
had learned to regard as a very hopeful sign. It usually meant that
Uncle Andy was in the vein. Seating himself on the grass directly in
front of his uncle, the Babe clasped his arms around his bare little
brown, mosquito-bitten knees, and stared upward hopefully with grave,
round eyes, as blue as the bluebells nodding beside him.

"Speaking of woodchucks," began Uncle Andy presently, "I've known a lot
of them in my time, and I've almost always found them interesting. Like
some people we know, they're sometimes most amusing when they are most
serious."

"_Amusing_!" exclaimed the Babe, with a world of meaning in his voice.
That was the last word he expected to apply to such a bad-tempered little
beast.