t one think of much else. So after a day or two, Reddy grew brave enough to go hunting. Somehow he had a feeling that it was safer to hunt during the day instead of during the night. You see, it was only after jolly, round, red Mr. Sun had gone to bed behind the Purple Hills that that strange voice was heard, and Reddy guessed that perhaps the stranger slept during the day.

So Reddy started out very early in the morning, stepping as softly as he knew how, looking behind every bush and tree, and with his sharp little ears wide open to catch every sound. Every few feet he stopped and sniffed the wind very carefully, for Reddy's nose can tell him of things which his eyes do not see and his ears do not hear. And all the time he was ready to run at the first sign of danger. He had left the Green Forest and was out on the Green Meadows, hoping to catch Danny Meadow Mouse, when that sharp little nose of his was tickled by one of the Merry Little Breezes with a smell that Reddy knew. Reddy turned and went in the direction from which the Merry Little Breeze had come. Just a few steps he went, and then he stopped and sniffed.

"Um-m-m," said Reddy to himself, "that smells to me like chicken. It certainly does smell like chicken!"

Very, very slowly and carefully Reddy moved forward in the direction from which that delicious smell came. Every few steps he stopped and sniffed. Sniff, sniff, sniff! Yes, it certainly was chicken. Reddy's mouth watered. A few more steps and there, a little way in front of him, partly hidden in a clump of tall grass and bushes, lay a half-eaten chicken. Reddy stopped short and sat down to look at it. Then he looked all around it to see if there was any one about. Then he walked clear around it in a circle, but he wa