!"

With the stick, which was a piece of flat board, Freddie began to toss
and shovel aside the snow. The top part came off easily enough, for the
flakes were light and fluffy. But underneath them there was a hard,
frozen crust and this was not so easily broken and tossed aside. But
finally Freddie had made quite a hole, and then he and Flossie saw
something queer. For, instead of coming to the hollow inside of the snow
house, the little boy and girl saw a mass of sticks, dried grass and
dirt. Over this was the snow, and it was piled up round, like the queer
houses the Eskimos make in the Arctic regions.

"Oh, look!" cried Flossie. "It isn't a snow house at all. It's just a
pile of sticks."

"Maybe it's a stick house, with snow on the outside," Freddie said. "I'm
going to dig a little deeper."

He did so, tossing aside the grass, sticks and dirt. Flossie was
watching him, and suddenly the two children saw something moving down in
the hole that Freddie had dug. Presently a furry nose was thrust out,
and two bright, snapping eyes looked at them.

"Oh, see! What is it?" cried Flossie.

Freddie dropped his stick shovel, and stumbled back. Flossie went with
him. The sharp, furry nose was thrust farther out, and then they could
see that it was the head of some animal, looking at them from inside the
snow-covered stick house.

"Some one lives there after all," whispered Flossie. "Is it a--a bear,
Freddie? If it is, we'd better run."

"Bears don't live in houses like this," said her brother. "They sleep
all winter in hollow logs."

"Well, what is it then?" Flossie questioned, "Will it come after us?"

But the little animal seemed satisfied to look out of the hole in its
house to see who had done the mischief. Then it began pulling the sticks
and grass back into place with its paws and jaws.

"Oh, I know what it is!" Freddie cried. "It's a muskrat. They live in
these mounds on the meadows. Bert told me so. This one's house looked
extra big because it was all covered with snow. There wouldn't be room
for us inside there, Flossie."

"I'm glad of it," answered the little girl. "I wouldn't want to crawl in
with a lot of rats."

"Muskrats are nice," Freddie said. "Bert told me so."

"Well, I don't like 'em!" declared Flossie. "Come on, Freddie. Let's get
away from here. That muskrat might chase us for breaking in his house,
though we didn't mean to do any harm. Come on, Freddie," and the two
little ones went on once