Fatty thought it great sport to hunt squirrels at night. Whenever he
tried it he usually managed to get a good meal. And after he had almost
forgotten about the fright the goshawk had given him in the tall hemlock
he began to roam through the tree-tops every night in search of
squirrels and sleeping birds.

But a night came at last when Fatty was well punished for hunting
squirrels. He had climbed half-way to the top of a big chestnut tree,
when he spied a hole in the trunk. He rather thought that some squirrels
lived inside that hole. And as he listened for a few seconds he could
hear something moving about inside. Yes! Fatty was sure that there was a
squirrel in there--probably several squirrels.

Fatty Coon's eyes turned green. It was a way they had, whenever he was
about to eat anything, or whenever he played with his brother Blackie,
or Fluffy and Cutey, his sisters; or whenever he was frightened. And now
Fatty was so sure that he was going to have a fine lunch that his eyes
turned as green as a cat's. He reached a paw inside the hole and felt
all around.

WOW! Fatty gave a cry; and he pulled his paw out much faster than he had
put it in. Something had given him a cruel dig. And in a jiffy Fatty saw
what that "something" was. It was a grumpy old tramp coon, whom Fatty
had never seen before.

"What do you mean, you young rascal, by disturbing me like this?" the
ragged stranger cried.

"Please, sir, I never knew it was you," Fatty stammered.