"He didn't care a fig. You see, he was so grumpy. Not knowing where to
go, he strolled up the hill and into the fir woods. Here he came upon a
very old, moth-eaten, feeble-looking woodchuck, who was very busy in a
half-hearted way digging himself a hole. Suddenly he stopped. Young
Grumpy did not think it was any sort of a hole for a woodchuck, but the
old fellow seemed satisfied with it. He curled himself up in it, almost
in plain view, and went straight to sleep. Young Grumpy strolled off
scornfully. When he came back that way, a few hours later, he found the
old woodchuck still in exactly the same position as before. He never
stirred or scolded even when Young Grumpy came up and squeaked quite
close to his ear. Seized suddenly with a vague uneasiness, Young Grumpy
nosed at him curiously. The old woodchuck's body was chill and rigid.
It created a most unpleasant impression, and, not knowing why he did so,
Young Grumpy hurried forth from the dark wood and down into the sunlit
pasture to which he was accustomed.
"For some days he wandered about the pasture, sleeping under stumps and
in mossy hollows, and fortunately escaping, by reason of his light,
rusty-gray color, the eyes of passing hawks.
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