“It happened a long time ago,” continued Grandfather Frog.

“When the world was young?” interrupted Danny Meadow Mouse.

“Of course,” replied Grandfather Frog, pretending to be very much put out at such a foolish question.  Danny hung his head and resolved that he would bite his tongue before he asked another question.

“In those days Miner’s great-great-grandfather a thousand times removed didn’t live under ground,” continued Grandfather Frog.  “Nobody did.  He wasn’t so very different from a lot of other animals.  Food was plenty, and everybody was on the best of terms with everybody else.  Mr. Mole lived just as the rest did.  He went and came as he pleased, and enjoyed the sunshine and took part in all the good times of his neighbors.  Everybody liked him, and whenever he made a call, he was sure of a welcome.  But one thing Mr. Mole never did; he never meddled in other people’s affairs.  No, Sir, Mr. Mole never poked his nose in where he had no business.

“For a long time everything went smoothly with all the people of the Green Forest and the Green Meadows.  Then came hard times.  They grew harder and harder.  Food was scarce and kept growing more scarce.  Everybody was hungry, and you know how it is with hungry people—­they grow ugly and quarrelsome.  Matters grew worse and worse, and then it was that fear was born.  The big people, like Old King Bear and Mr. Wolf and Mr. Panther and Mr. Lynx, began to look with hungry eyes on the little people, and the little people began to grow afraid and hide from the big people, and all the time they were continually quarreling among themselves and stealing from each other to get enough to eat.

“Now, as I said before, Mr. Mole never had meddled with other people’s business, and he didn’t now.  He went off by himself to think things over.  ‘It isn’t safe to run around any more,’ said he.  ’I met Mr. Wolf this morning, and he looked at me with such a hungry look in his eyes that it gave me the cold shivers.  I believe he would have eaten me, if I hadn’t crawled into an old hollow stump.  Now I can’t run fast, because my legs are too short.  I can’t climb trees like Mr. Squirrel, and I can’t swim like Mr. Muskrat.  The only thing I can do is to dig.’

“You see, Mr. Mole always had been very fond of digging, and he had done so much of it that his front legs and claws had grown very stout.

“’Now if I dig a hole and keep out of sight, I won’t have to worry about Mr. Wolf or anybody else,’ continued Mr. Mole to himself.  So he went to work at once and dug a hole on the Green Meadows, and, because he wanted to be comfortable, he made a big hole.  When it was finished, he was tired, so he curled up at the bottom for a nap.  He was awakened by hearing voices outside.  He knew those voices right away.  They were the voices of Mr. Fox and Mr. Badger.

“‘These are terrible times,’ said Mr. Fox.  ’I’m so hungry that I’m wasting away to a shadow.  I wonder who has dug this hole.’