a preacher--for he usually wore
shiny, black clothes--that Frisky Squirrel thought him a very nice old
gentleman. And he told such interesting stories, too! Frisky could
listen to him by the hour.

So, in spite of his mother's warnings, whenever he met Mr. Crow Frisky
Squirrel would always stop and ask the old gentleman how his cold was.
You see, Mr. Crow's voice was never what you would call _clear_. You
might say that there was a decided croak in it. And very often, even
on hot summer days, he would have a muffler wound about his throat.

It happened that one day when Frisky came across Mr. Crow in the
woods, something reminded Mr. Crow that he knew where there were
plenty of butternuts--just waiting to be eaten.

"Is that so?" Frisky exclaimed. "Have you had some of them?"

"No! I don't care for butternuts," Mr. Crow said, with a slight cough.
"I've always considered them bad for my throat. I've made it a rule
never to eat them. You don't happen to like them, do you?"

Now, if there was one thing that Frisky Squirrel liked a little better
than anything else, it was butternuts. And when he answered Mr. Crow's
question he was so excited that his voice shook just the least bit.

"I'm _very_ fond of them," he said.

"Well, well!" Mr. Crow exclaimed. "I'm glad I happened to mention the
matter. They're there--heaps of 'em--great brown piles of 'em--thousands
of 'em!"

"_Where_ are they?" Frisky asked him eagerly.

"Oh--I thought I told you," Mr. Crow said. "Why--they're in Farmer
Green's attic. His boy put them up there to dry. I saw them through
the window, this very day."

Frisky Squirrel was disappointed.

"I mustn't go to Farmer Green's house," he said.

"Pooh! Why not?" asked Mr. Crow.

"It isn't safe. I went there once to get some cake, and I nearly lost
my life in the kitchen."

"Ah! But this is different," Mr. Crow explained. "You don't have to go
into the kitchen at all. All you have to do is to climb that big tree
close by the house. And you can hop right through the attic window.
There's nobody upstairs in the daytime. In fact, I should call it one
of the safest places to go that I know of."

When Mr. Crow said that, Frisky believed him. Mr. Crow was so old, and
so wise, and so solemn, that Frisky thought that anything he said must
be true.

"I'm going past Farmer Green's house right now," Mr. Crow told Frisky.
"I have a little matter to attend to over in the cornfield. And if you
want to c