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“I see,” nodded the doctor. “But you send Chewee back here to-morrow at sunset. I’ll have a message for you.” He didn’t say a word about the meeting. So off went Stripes, with his ears drooped low and his tail most sorrowfully dragging.

When the Woodsfolk gathered by his pond the next afternoon Doctor Muskrat laid Tad Coon’s case before them. “We know what has happened to Tad Coon,” he said. “He chased some mice into a corn-crib and a man shut the door on him. What man, what corn-crib we do not know. One mouse escaped to tell the tale but the little owls ate him. If Tad is still alive the Woodsfolk must do their very best to find him.”

“We will, we will!” they squealed and yapped and chirped and whistled in all their different tongues. Even the little bats woke up inside their hollow tree and squeaked out that they, too, would keep an eye open for him.

“Another thing,” went on Doctor Muskrat. “Tad Coon is gone. Now Stripes Skunk has had to go into the Deep Woods to look after his kittens. The fieldmice are foolish but they are many and full of notions. We have only the hawks and owls to fight them. First thing we know the minks will be creeping in, unless Stripes brings his family to live with us.”