Poor Siccatee was in great trouble.

She had been very busy for some time past laying up food for the
winter, and it had taken many weeks' hard work. She had selected the
very best nuts, acorns, corn, berries and seeds, and all through the
beautiful autumn days had scarcely rested for a moment, so eager had
she been to lay in a good stock.

Not a single unsound, worm-eaten or empty nut had she allowed to go
into her stores. She had taken each one in her little fore paws,
looked it carefully over, turning and twisting it about and examining
it from every point of view with her keen little eyes; and then, when
she had made quite sure that it was a good one and perfectly sound,
she had trotted off with it in her quick way, which was something
between a hop and a gallop, and hidden it in a nice place at the root
of some old tree, or in some cleverly hidden crevice.

Her husband had helped her as much as he could, and had contributed
many dainties.

Their beautiful home was in a wood by the side of the sea, and the
people in the big house at the bottom of the wood sometimes threw out
dainties in the shape of fruit, scraps of meat and bread, and many
kinds of berries.

But Siccatee herself was too frightened to go down on the beach, for
she was a very nervous little thing. Sentre, her husband, was quite
daring, and not easily frightened. They had worked very hard together,