“When Ah left mah home way down Souf Ah cert’nly did hate to leave Brer Gopher and all the rest of mah friends,” said Ol’ Mistah Buzzard as he sat on his dead tree in the Green Forest.

“Did I hear you speak of Mr. Gopher?” asked Digger the Badger, who had come up just in time to hear the last words.

“Yo’ sho’ly did, Brer Badger, yo’ sho’ly did! Ah’m very fond of Brer Gopher,” replied Ol’ Mistah Buzzard. “Do yo’ know him?”

“Do I know him! I should say I do!” exclaimed Digger the Badger, who, you know, came out of the Great West.

“Why, when I was a little fellow Mr. Gopher and I used to have digging matches, and he surely can dig! But I didn’t know that he had moved down South.”

“Why, what are you talking about, Brer Badger? He and his family have always lived down Souf!” exclaimed Ol’ Mistah Buzzard.

Now Digger the Badger is quick-tempered. “You’re wrong!” he shouted. “Mr. Gopher and his family have always lived out West!”

To tell any one that they are untruthful is a dreadful thing. Digger shouldn’t have said that, even if he did believe that Ol’ Mistah Buzzard was telling an untruth. Ol’ Mistah Buzzard was so taken aback that for a few minutes he couldn’t find his tongue. When he did he talked very plainly to Digger the Badger. He called him names. The noise of the quarrel brought all the other little meadow and forest people on the run to see what it all meant.

“Ah tell yo’ Brer Gopher and his family have always lived in the Souf, and Ah don’ believe yo’ know Brer Gopher at all!” said Ol’ Mistah Buzzard.

Digger the Badger fairly danced up and down, he was so mad. “Not know him!” he shrieked. “Not know him! Why I know every hair in his coat!”

Ol’ Mistah Buzzard stared at Digger a full minute. “What was that yo’ said?” he asked slowly.

“I said I know every hair in Mr. Gopher’s coat,” snapped Digger.

Ol’ Mistah Buzzard looked around the circle of little meadow and forest people in triumph. “Ah knew he didn’t know Brer Gopher,” said he. “Brer Gopher’s coat isn’t made of hair at all; it’s of shell.”

It was Digger’s turn to stare. Then he began to laugh. He laughed and laughed and laughed. “Shell!” he gasped. “Shell!” Then he went off into another fit of laughter, while Ol’ Mistah Buzzard grew very red and angry.

“What’s all this fuss about?” demanded Old Mother West Wind, who was on her way home to the Purple Hills.

When she had heard all about it she began to laugh. “You are both right and both wrong,” said she. “Mr. Gopher who lives way down South does wear a shell coat, and he is cousin to Spotty the Turtle, but lives on the land and digs holes in the ground. Mr. Gopher whom Digger the Badger knows does wear a coat of hair, and he is a distant relative of Striped Chipmunk. And the two Mr. Gophers are not related at all. Now make up.”

And Ol’ Mistah Buzzard and Digger the Badger did.