"'T ain't everybody," said Mr. Prindle, pulling Second Lieutenant Honey's ear reflectively, "that would climb five miles up-hill to see an old man. How would a few fried cakes and some cider go?" There was an instantaneous vote in favor of this resolution, in which Alice-Palace's good-time noise easily soared like a siren-whistle above all the other expressions of assent. "Be careful and don't swallow the holes," Mr. Prindle warned them a few moments later, as he brought out a big panful of brownish-red, spicy fried cakes cooked in twisted rings. The Band promised to use every precaution, and there was an adjournment of all other business until the pan and the pitcher were alike empty. "Are your chipmunks still alive?" queried the Captain, as they all sat down on the vast, squatty-legged settee next to Mr. Prindle's rocker. "Yes, indeed," replied the latter, "they've been with me nigh on to four years now." Alice-Palace's eyes became very big. "Not Chippy-Nipmunk?" she whispered to the Captain. "Exactly," replied that official, "and then some." Thereafter, at Mr. Prindle's suggestion, they all sat stony-still and mousy-quiet while he made a funny little hissing, whistling noise. From under the porch there came a scurrying rush, and the two bright eyes of a big striped chipmunk popped up over the edge of the porch-step. A minute later, from two holes in a near-by bank, two other chipmunks dashed out. They all had ashy-gray backs, with five stripes of such dark brown as to look almost like black. Their tails had a black, white-tipped fringe, while the gray color of the back changed into clear orange-brown on their flanks and legs. "This one is James," announced Mr. Prindle, as the first chipmunk hurried across the porch toward his chair. "His full name is James William Francis," he explained, "after a second-cousin of mine who looked a good deal like him. I generally call him James for short. The other two are Nip and Tuck," he went on. "Old Bill will be along in a minute. You see," he continued, "he's an old bachelor and lives all by himself quite a ways off." "What about James?" inquired Honey. "He's been a widower," said Mr. Prindle, sadly, "ever since his wife stayed out one day to get a good look at a hawk." As he spoke, another chipmunk came around the end of the porch and hastened to join the other three. "Here's Bill now," announced Mr. Prindle. Then the old man reached into his pocket and took out a handful of butternuts and gave two to each of the Band. "Hold one in your closed hand and the other between your thumb and finger where they can see it," he advised them.