Part 3 (1/2)

At last he thought of a fine scheme. And as soon as it came into his head he hobbled over to Sandy Chipmunk's home. I say _hobbled_, because Uncle Sammy had a lame knee. He always claimed that he was injured in battle.

But almost every one knew that he hurt his knee one time when Farmer Green caught him stealing a hen.

When he reached the pasture Uncle Sammy found Sandy Chipmunk just starting away to hunt for nuts.

[Ill.u.s.tration: He Dropped the Grain in Front of Uncle Sammy]

”Good morning!” the old fellow said. He spoke very pleasantly, though he was so sleepy that he felt disagreeable enough. ”I've come over to buy something from your store.”

”My store!” Sandy Chipmunk exclaimed.

”Yes!” said Uncle Sammy c.o.o.n. ”I've heard you have a store here with a heap of nuts and grain to sell.”

Now, it had never occurred to Sandy Chipmunk to _sell_ any of the food he had gathered for the winter. But when Uncle Sammy put the idea in his head Sandy rather liked it.

”I have a fine stock, to be sure,” he said. ”The nuts are specially good.

How many would you like to buy?”

But Uncle Sammy c.o.o.n told him he didn't want any nuts.

”I never eat them,” he said. ”It's grain that I want. And I'll buy as much as you care to sell.... Bring a sample of it up here,” he urged.

”I'd like to see if it's as good as people say.”

So Sandy Chipmunk darted into his house. And soon he appeared again with his cheek-pouches crammed full of wheat kernels.

”There!” he cried, when he had dropped the grain in front of Uncle Sammy.

”Just try a little of it! You'll agree with me that it's very fine.”

Uncle Sammy not only tried a little. He gobbled up every single kernel.

”It seems to me to have a queer taste,” he said. ”Bring up some more!”

And Sandy scurried down into his house again, to bob up in a few moments with another sample of his grain.

Once more Uncle Sammy ate it all.

”It's a bit damp,” he remarked, as he smacked his lips. ”I hope it's not moldy.... You'd better let me see another sample.”

Uncle Sammy declared the next heap of kernels to be altogether too dry.

And he kept ordering Sandy to fetch more for him to ”taste,” as he called it. Some of the wheat he considered too ripe, and some too green. Some of the kernels--so he said--were too little, and others too big. And finally he even told Sandy Chipmunk that he was afraid Sandy was trying to sell him _last year's_ wheat.

Now, Sandy knew that his wheat was fresh--all of it. So he went down and brought up still another load.

Uncle Sammy ate that more slowly, for by this time he had had a good meal.

”How do you like it?” Sandy asked him.