the muley cow noticed that billy woodchuck was making many trips back and forth across the pasture. watching him carefully, she saw that he always crept under the fence and stole into the field where the clover grew. and every time he came back again he looked plumper than before.

"that clover's not intended for you," the muley cow told him at last. she thought that ought to be enough to stop him. but it made not the slightest difference. billy woodchuck continued to visit the clover-patch just as often as ever.and it seemed to the muley cow that he stayed longer each time he went there.

"something will have to be done to keep that woodchuck boy out of our clover," she announced to the rest of the herd. "if we don't stop him there'll be no nice clover hay for us next winter."

"somebody ought to put a poke on him," said the little red cow. and everybody laughed—everybody except the muley cow. she saw nothing funny in the suggestion. she thought it silly; and she said as much, too: "who ever heard of a woodchuck wearing a poke about his neck?"

"have you told billy woodchuck to keep out of the clover?" one of the muley cow's friends inquired.

"i've dropped a hint; but it seems he can't take a hint," the muley cow replied.

"then someone will have to speak plainly to him," the friend said. and the whole herd told the muley cow that she was the one to do it, because she was the oldest cow on the farm.

so the next time that billy woodchuck hurried by on his way to the clover-patch, the muley cow stood right in his path and stopped him.

"go back!" she said severely. "you mustn't eat any more clover. you've had too much of it already."

billy woodchuck sat up on his hind feet and stared very hard at the muley cow.

but he said never a word.

"what's the matter with you?" she asked him. "can't you speak when you're spoken to? have you nothing to say?"

it appeared that he had. "i was thinking," he stammered, "what a pity it is that you lost your horns."

the muley cow gave a sort of snort.

"don't be a ninny!" she cried. "i never lost my horns. i never had any to lose. that's why they call me the muley cow."

billy woodchuck sat as still as a mouse and never took his eyes off her. it gave the muley cow a queer turn to be looked at so steadily. it made her fidget and squirm.

"well! well!" she exclaimed. "how strangely you act! what's the trouble with you? are you ill?"

"no!" said billy woodchuck. "i was only thinking what a long face you have."

"nothing of the sort!" the muley cow spluttered. "it's my opinion that you can't see well. there must be something wrong with your eyes. and i haven't a doubt that the trouble is just this: you've eaten too much clover."