else. Probably he is the thief himself."

He heard Chatterer the Red Squirrel scolding as fast as he could make
his tongue go and working himself into a terrible rage. "Must be that
Chatterer got out of bed the wrong way this morning," thought he.

He heard Blacky the Crow cawing at the top of his lungs, and he knew by
the sound that Blacky was getting into mischief of some kind. He heard
the sweet voices of happy little singers, and they were good to hear.
But most of all he listened to a merry, low, silvery laugh that never
stopped but went on and on, until he just felt as if he must laugh too.
It was the voice of the Laughing Brook. And as Buster listened it
suddenly came to him just what he wanted for breakfast.

"I'm going fishing," said he in his deep grumbly-rumbly voice to no one
in particular. "Yes, Sir, I'm going fishing. I want some fat trout for
my breakfast."

He shuffled along over to the Laughing Brook, and straight to a little
pool of which he knew, and as he drew near he took the greatest care not
to make the teeniest, weeniest bit of noise. Now it just happened that
early as he was, some one was before Buster Bear. When he came in sight
of the little pool, who should he see but another fisherman there, who
had already caught a fine fat trout. Who was it? Why, Little Joe Otter
to be sure. He was just climbing up the bank with the fat trout in his
mouth. Buster Bear's own mouth watered as he saw it. Little Joe sat down
on the bank and prepared to enjoy his breakfast. He hadn't seen Buster
Bear, and he didn't know that he or any one else was anywhere near.

Buster Bear tiptoed up very softly until he was right behind Little Joe
Otter. "Woof, woof!" said he in his deepest, most grumbly-rumbly voice.
"That's a very fine looking trout. I wouldn't mind if I had it myself."

Little Joe Otter gave a frightened squeal and without even turning to
see who was speaking dropped his fish and dived headfirst into the
Laughing Brook. Buster Bear sprang forward and with one of his big paws
caught the fat trout just as it was slipping back into the water.

"Here's your trout, Mr. Otter," said he, as Little Joe put his head out
of water to see who had frightened him so. "Come and get it."

[Illustration: "Here's your trout, Mr. Otter," said he. _Page 5._]

But Little Joe wouldn't. The fact is, he was afraid to. He snarled at
Buster Bear and called him a thief and everything bad he could think of.
Buster didn't see