d afterward he
often wondered what would have happened to him if he hadn't met Mr.
Pine Finch early one morning.

Mr. Pine Finch was an odd fellow. He had a peculiar way of talking as if
he spoke through his nose. Though Dickie Deer Mouse had seen him before,
he had paid scant attention to Mr. Pine Finch. But when he caught sight
of him on a certain chilly morning there were so few birds stirring that
Dickie stopped short and watched Mr. Pine Finch, who was so busy in a
tree-top that he didn't know anybody else was near him.

He was talking to himself. And as nearly as Dickie Deer Mouse could
tell, he was remarking--through his nose--that he was having a good
breakfast.

That news made Dickie Deer Mouse prick up his big ears. A good breakfast
was something that he had not enjoyed for a long, long time.

At first Dickie couldn't quite see what Mr. Pine Finch was about. It was
he, beyond a doubt. There could be no more mistaking his odd voice than
his plump, black-streaked back, with its splashes of yellow at the base
of his tail, and his yellow-edged wings. Dickie had a good view of Mr.
Pine-Finch's back, because its owner hung upside down from the tips of
the branches of the tree where Dickie spied him.

To Dickie Deer Mouse the sight, at first, was somewhat of a puzzle. He
stood quite still, gazing upward in wonder. And then all at once he
discovered what Mr. Pine Finch was doing. Something struck Dickie Deer
Mouse lightly on his back--something that made him jump.

He looked all around to see what had hit him. And there, on the snow
beside him, lay a bud off the tree above him.

Then Dickie Deer Mouse understood what Mr. Pine Finch was about. He was
eating the buds that clung to the tips of the branches.

Dickie Deer Mouse quickly ate that bud; and then he waited, watching
eagerly every move that Mr. Pine Finch made.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

XXIII

A FEAST AT LAST

To Dickie Deer Mouse, waiting impatiently for Mr. Pine Finch to drop
another bud out of the tree-top, it began to seem as if his good luck
were short lived. Could it be possible that Mr. Pine Finch was so
careful that he lost a bud only once in a long time--perhaps only once a
year?

But as Dickie Deer Mouse wondered, a small shower of buds came rattling
down upon the snow-crust. And Dickie Deer Mouse snatched them up, every
one, and ate them hungrily.

In a little while he felt so much better that he called out to Mr. Pi