d with you."

"What sort of word?" Dickie Deer Mouse inquired.

"It's about the cornfield," Fatty Coon explained.

"I haven't been near that place since you last saw me there," Dickie
declared.

"I know you haven't," Fatty told him. "That's just why I want to have a
word with you. I'm in a peck of trouble. And I want you to help me."

Dickie Deer Mouse could scarcely believe it. But being a very polite
young gentleman, he told Fatty that he would be glad to do anything in
his power to assist him--or at least, anything except to come down out
of the top of the tree.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

X

A BIT OF ADVICE

"It's like this," Fatty Coon said, puffing a bit--on account of his
climb--as he looked up at Dickie Deer Mouse. "Old Mr. Crow says that
Farmer Green is going to sick old dog Spot on me if I don't keep out of
the cornfield."

"Well, I should say it was very kind of Mr. Crow to tell you," Dickie
remarked.

Fatty Coon was not so sure of that.

"He'd like to have the cornfield to himself," he told Dickie. "He'd like
nothing better than to keep me out of it. And if old dog Spot is coming
there after me, I certainly don't want to go near the place again."

"Then I'd stay away, if I were you," Dickie Deer Mouse told him.

"Ah! That's just the trouble!" Fatty Coon cried. "I can't! I'm too fond
of corn. And that's why I've come here to have a word with you," he went
on. "I've noticed that you haven't set foot in the cornfield since I
spoke to you over there in the middle of the day. And I want you to tell
me how you manage to stay away."

"Something seems to pull me right away from it," Dickie Deer Mouse told
him.

Fatty Coon groaned.

"Something seems to pull me _towards_ the corn!" he wailed.

Dickie Deer Mouse couldn't help feeling sorry for him.

"If there was only something else that you liked better than green
corn," he said, "perhaps it would help you to keep away from this new
danger."

"But there isn't!" Fatty Coon exclaimed.

"Have you ever tried _horns_?" Dickie Deer Mouse asked him.

Fatty Coon looked puzzled.

"What kind?" he asked his small friend.

"Deer's!" Dickie explained. "You know they drop them in the woods
sometimes. I've had many a meal off deer's horns. And I can say
truthfully that there's nothing quite like them when you're hungry."

Fatty Coon actually began to look hopeful.

"I'm always hungry," he announced. "And perhaps if I could get a tast