"All right! I'll be there," Frisky told him.

And sure enough! Just as the sun sank out of sight that evening,
Frisky appeared on the bank of the brook. And he hadn't told his
mother what he was going to do, either.

Pretty soon Uncle Sammy Coon came along. He had an old sack slung over
his shoulder and a wide grin on his face.

"Come on, young man!" he said, "and we'll go over to Farmer Green's
place."

"Farmer Green's!" Frisky cried. "I don't want to go there." He
remembered the fright he had had when he fell into the flour-barrel in
Farmer Green's kitchen.

"You promised," Uncle Sammy reminded him. "And unless you want
something you won't like nearly so well as corn, you had better march
right along with me."

He was so cross that Frisky Squirrel thought he had better mind him.
But Frisky wished he had not come. And he wished he had told his
mother what he was going to do, too. But he trotted along with Uncle
Sammy--only he was careful not to get too close to the tricky old
gentleman, for there was no knowing when Uncle Sammy might suddenly
decide that he would rather have a nice, tender, young gray squirrel
to eat than all the last year's corn in the world. You see, the little
forest-people have to think of many things--especially when they walk
out alone with a person like Uncle Sammy Coon.