beasts, half the time he didn't know what she was saying. He had decided that her fears were foolish. He was sure that nothing could harm him.

He was thinking that very thought one day when he came face to face suddenly with a huge, furry creature. At least the stranger seemed terribly big in the eyes of Master Meadow Mouse, though it was only a kitten belonging to Miss Kitty Cat, who lived at Farmer Green's house.

Like Master Meadow Mouse, the kitten was exploring the meadow. To her, as to him, it was a new world.

It would be hard to say which of the two was the more surprised.

"Oh!" Master Meadow Mouse squeaked right out loud. "I—I—I wish I'd stayed at home."

"Ho!" the kitten mewed. "I'm glad I came a-hunting."

The kitten sprang at Master Meadow Mouse. But when he didn't run she stopped in her tracks and stared at him. She had expected him to flee, as the mice at the farmhouse always did whenever a body met them.

"What's the matter with you?" the kitten asked him. "Don't you know that you ought to run when I jump at you?"

Master Meadow Mouse made no reply. How could he know that the mice at the farmhouse were ever so much sprier than he was and that they always trusted to their legs to get them out of harm's way? His family had always done differently. Unless there was a hole near-by, big enough for them but too small for a pursuer, they had ever stood their ground when attacked and fought while they could. Master Meadow Mouse knew no other way. It was something that had been handed down to him along with his short tail and his reddish-brown back.

Somehow, as she stood and gazed at Master Meadow Mouse the kitten thought he was growing bigger every moment. She began to feel uneasy about pouncing on him. It was one thing to clap a paw down on the back of somebody that was running away from her. And it was an entirely different matter to seize a person that didn't try to escape, but faced her almost boldly.

"Hunting isn't so much fun as I expected," she muttered. For a moment or two she was tempted to scamper back to the farmhouse. And then she thought how pleased her mother would be if she brought that fat fellow home in her mouth and laid him at her mother's feet—how pleased and how proud!

To help her courage the kitten began to lash her tail, jerking it from side to side as she had seen her mother move her own. And she crouched her chubby body lower in the grass.

Then the kitten jumped. And the moment she was within his reach Master Meadow Mouse gave her a smart nip on the nose with his sharp little teeth.

The kitten squalled. And she backed hastily away. "You'd better run!" she advised Master Meadow Mouse. "I shall not give you another chance!"

But he stood fast. And the kitten didn't give him another chance, either to run from her, or to bite her nose again. She fell into a sudden panic and bounded awkwardly away toward the farmhouse.

And then Master Meadow Mouse ran. He ran home as fast as he could go.

Almost as soon as he was able to wander about the meadow alone Master Meadow Mouse began to swim. He didn't have to be taught, any more than he had to be taught how to walk. Swimming came to him as easily as eating. And his mother never worried about his being drowned. But when he went for his first swim in Black Creek Mrs. Meadow Mouse couldn't help feeling a bit anxious.

"Look out!" she warned her son. "Look out for the Pickerel tribe! They're the most dangerous fish in the creek."

"Yes!" said Master Meadow Mouse. "I know that. I've been told about them already."

"You have!" his mother exclaimed. "Who told you?"

"A greenish gentleman with a very wide smile and queer, bulging eyes," Master Meadow Mouse replied.

"That's Ferdinand Frog!" Mrs. Meadow Mouse cried. "He's as dangerous as any Pickerel that ever swam. Where did you meet him?"

"I stood on the bank of the creek one day and saw him among the lily pads," her son explained. "We had quite a long talk together.... I forgot to mention it to you," he added.

The news made Mrs. Meadow Mouse turn slightly pale. She shuddered although the day was warm; for she feared and detested Ferdinand Frog.

"Don't ever go near that slippery villain!" she warned her son. "If you ever see him when you are swimming in the creek, make for the shore at once."

Now, Master Meadow Mouse sometimes thought that he knew more than his mother, about certain matters. And he was inclined to take her advice lightly.

"Ferdinand Frog was very pleasant when I met him," he remarked. "He cracked jokes. And he laughed at them himself."

"Oh, he's pleasant enough," Mrs. Meadow Mouse agreed. "He'd grin and swallow you at the same time with that great mouth of his. That's what makes him so dangerous."

"Well, he's a fine swimmer, anyhow," her son declared.

"Another reason why you should avoid him!" his mother retorted.

"You ought to see him dive," said Master Meadow Mouse. "He promised to teach me to dive if I'd join him in the water."

"It's a mercy you didn't,". Mrs. Meadow Mouse gasped. "I'm glad you had sense enough to stay on the bank."

"Oh, I knew better than to take a swim in the creek that day," Master Meadow Mouse said. "The Pickerel family were nosing about among the pickerel weeds around the bend of the creek. I saw them myself. And Mr. Frog told me I ought to beware of them. He was very anxious—so he said—about me and the Pickerel. He said he didn't want them to catch me. He was very kind, I thought."

"Kind!" Mrs. Meadow Mouse spluttered. "He didn't want them to catch you because he hopes to catch you himself!"

For once Master Meadow Mouse was ready to take his mother's advice. She had told him to beware of Ferdinand Frog and never, never, never to enter the water when that pleasant gentleman was in it.

Ferdinand Frog proved to be as agreeable as ever. When he caught sight