Or they would have a regular tug of war, pulling on opposite ends of a stick, till the moss was all torn up as if a little cyclone had loafed along that way.

Then one day they came to a clay bank, something like that one across yonder.

The old ones had been there before, but not for some time, and the clay had got all dry and hard.

But the father and mother knew very well how to fix that.

When they had slid down a couple of times with their fur all dripping the track was smooth as oil.