Freddie dropped his stick shovel, and stumbled back. Flossie went with him. The sharp, furry nose was thrust farther out, and then they could see that it was the head of some animal, looking at them from inside the snow-covered stick house.
"Some one lives there after all," whispered Flossie. "Is it a—a bear, Freddie? If it is, we'd better run."
"Bears don't live in houses like this," said her brother. "They sleep all winter in hollow logs."
"Well, what is it then?" Flossie questioned, "Will it come after us?"
But the little animal seemed satisfied to look out of the hole in its house to see who had done the mischief. Then it began pulling the sticks and grass back into place with its paws and jaws.
"Oh, I know what it is!" Freddie cried. "It's a muskrat. They live in these mounds on the meadows. Bert told me so. This one's house looked extra big because it was all covered with snow. There wouldn't be room for us inside there, Flossie."
