"Young Grumpy's home life," continued Uncle Andy, "with his father and
mother and four brothers and sisters was not a pampered one. There are
few wild parents less given to spoiling their young than a pair of
grumbling old woodchucks. The father, who spent most of his time
sleeping, rolled up in a ball at the bottom of the burrow, paid them no
attention except to nip at them crossly when they tumbled over him. They
were always relieved when he went off, three or four times a day, down
into the neighboring clover field to make his meals. The little ones did
not see what he was good for, anyhow, till one morning, when the
black-and-yellow dog from the next farm happened along. The youngsters,
with their mother, were basking in the sun just outside the front door.
As the dog sprang at them they all fairly fell, head over heels, back
into the burrow. The dog, immensely disappointed, set to work
frantically to dig them out. He felt sure that young woodchuck would be
very good to eat.

"It was then that Old Grumpy showed what he was made of. Thrusting his
family rudely aside, he scurried up the burrow to the door, where the dog
was making the earth fly at a most alarming rate. Without a moment's
hesitation he sank his long, cutting teeth into the rash intruder's nose
and held on.

"The dog yelped and choked, and tried to back out of the hole in a hurry.
But it was no use. The old woodchuck had a solid grip and was pulling
with all his might in the other direction. Panic-stricken and half
smothered by the dry earth, the dog dug in his hind claws, bent his back
like a bow, and pulled for all he was worth, yelling till you might have
thought there were half a dozen dogs in that hole. At last, after
perhaps three or four minutes--which seemed to the dog much longer--the
old woodchuck decided to leave go. You see, he didn't really want that