over his head.

"Sammy Jay ought to be ashamed of himself, waking honest people like this!"
muttered Bobby Coon, as he yawned and stretched. At first he couldn't think
where he was. Then he remembered. He was just getting ready to crawl out of
the hollow log, when he heard something which made him stop and try to sit
up so suddenly that he bumped his head. What he heard was the voice of Unc'
Billy Possum, and he knew by the sound that Unc' Billy was sitting on the
very log in which he himself was hiding.

"This is the greatest joke that ever was!" said Unc' Billy. "Pretty soon
nobody on the Green Meadows or in the Green Forest will speak to anybody
else excepting me. Yo' cert'nly have got all your ol' tricks with yo'."

"Yes," replied a voice which Bobby Coon had never heard before, but which
he knew right away must belong to some one who had come from way down South
where Unc' Billy Possum and Ol' Mistah Buzzard had come from. "Yes," said
the voice, "Ah done got all mah ol' tricks and some more. But it's easy,
Unc' Billy, it's easy to fool your new friends, because Ah reckon they
never have been fooled this way before. Don' yo' think it is most time to
stop? Ah don't want to show mahself in daylight. Besides, if Ah'm found
out, nobody ain't gwine to have anything to do with me."

"Don't yo' worry. Nobody's gwine to find yo' out. We'll keep it up just a
day or two longer. Yo' cert'nly am powerful good at imitating other
people's voices. Ah wonder that Ol' Mistah Buzzard hasn't got his eye on
yo' before now," said Unc' Billy Possum.

Bobby Coon had become wide awake as he listened. He tried hard to get a
peep at the stranger with Unc' Billy, but all he could see was a long tail
of feathers. Bobby waited until Unc' Billy and his friend had left. Then he
crawled out of the hollow log, and he was chuckling to himself.

"I'll just have a little talk with Ol' Mistah Buzzard," said Bobby to
himself.

XX

BOBBY COON AND OL' MISTAH BUZZARD HAVE A TALK

Bobby Coon had spent the largest part of the forenoon sitting at the foot
of the tall dead tree on which Ol' Mistah Buzzard likes to roost. All the
time Ol' Mistah Buzzard had been sailing 'round and 'round in circles way
up in the blue, blue sky, sometimes so high that to Bobby he looked like
just a tiny speck. Bobby had watched him until his own neck ached. Mistah
Buzzard hardly ever moved his wings. He just sailed and sailed and sailed
up and down and 'round an