Sometimes Billy would find scraps of meat. Sometimes it would be a piece of fish. Once, when the farmer and his wife had had a chicken dinner, Billy found a couple of chicken heads, of which he is very fond. Always it was something Billy liked. He was living so high that he was actually growing fat and lazy.
And as the days went on, Billy grew less and less afraid of that farmer. He decided that no one who meant harm to him would be so good to him. So after a while Billy would come out in broad daylight. In fact, the farmer would have gone hardly ten steps away before Billy would be out to see what had been left for him. And the farmer, on his part, took the greatest care not to do anything to frighten Billy. In short, Billy and the farmer were becoming very good friends.
Just for exercise Billy would occasionally run over to the big barn and hunt for mice. Once he visited the henhouse and found that no longer was there a hole by which he could get into the henhouse. The farmer had blocked up the hole through which Billy had once entered. After he discovered this, Billy kept away from the henhouse. He knew that it was of no use to go there. You see, he is not like the Rats; he doesn’t gnaw holes. He makes use of holes some one else has made. His teeth are not made for gnawing.
But Billy wasn’t especially disappointed because he couldn’t get into the henhouse. In fact, he seldom thought about chickens. You see, he had plenty to eat, and having plenty there was no temptation to try to kill a chicken. So Billy felt very much at home and worried about nothing at all. There was nothing to worry about. He felt as if he quite belonged in that farmyard. Yes, sir, that is how he felt.
Thoughtful kindness in the end Is bound to win for you a friend. _Billy Mink._
Billy Mink had overslept. This was very unusual for Billy. Usually he was watching for the farmer to bring him his breakfast. But this morning Billy had overslept. He knew it the minute his eyes opened. Right away he scrambled out to see what had been left him for breakfast. He found nothing.
He blinked two or three times, for he had become so used to finding his breakfast right at the edge of the woodpile, that he couldn’t believe there was none left for him that morning. But there wasn’t a thing. Not even the tiniest scrap. Billy began to wonder if some one had stolen his breakfast while he slept.