“No. Oh, my, no!” replied Bobby. “I’ve got the nicest den in a ledge of rock. No more hollow trees for me.” “Why not?” demanded Tommy. “They aren’t safe,” retorted Bobby. “I used to live in a hollow tree, but I’ve learned better. I guess you’ve never been hunted. When you’ve been nearly choked to death by smoke in your hollow tree, or had it cut down with you in it and barely escaped by the skin of your teeth, you won’t think so much of hollow trees. Give me a good rocky den every time.” “But where does the smoke come from, and why should my hollow tree be cut down?” asked Tommy, to whom this was all new and very strange. “Hunters,” replied Bobby briefly. “You wait until the cool weather comes and you’ll find out what I mean.” “But who are the hunters and what do they hunt us for?” persisted Tommy. “My, but you are innocent!” retorted Bobby. “They are those two-legged creatures called men, and I don’t know what they hunt us for. They just do, that’s all. They seem to think it’s fun. I wish one of them would have to fight for _his_ life. Perhaps he wouldn’t see so much fun in it then. It was last fall that they drove me out of my hollow tree, and they pretty nearly got me, too. But they won’t do it this year! You take my advice and get a den in the rocks. Then you can laugh at them.” “But what will they hunt me for? I haven’t done them any harm,” persisted Tommy. “That doesn’t have anything to do with it,” retorted Bobby. “They do it for _fun_. Have you tried the corn yet? It’s perfectly delicious. Come on and we’ll have a feast.” Now of course Tommy was ready for a feast. The very thought of it put everything else out of his head. He shuffled along behind Bobby Coon through the Green Forest, across a little stretch of meadow, and under the bars of a fence into a corn-field. For a minute he sat and watched Bobby. It was Tommy’s first visit to a corn-field and he didn’t know just what to do. But Bobby did. Oh, yes, Bobby did. He stood up on his hind legs and pulled one of the more slender stalks down until he could get at the lowest ear. Then he stripped off the husk and took a huge bite of the tender milky kernels. “_Um-m-m_,” said Bobby Coon, and took another. Tommy waited no longer. He found a stalk for himself, and two minutes later he was stuffing himself with the most delicious meal he ever had tasted. At least he thought so then. He forgot all about dens and hunters. He had no thought for anything but the feast before him. Here was plenty and to spare.