Fortunately for most of us, there is many a slip ’twixt the cup and the lip, which only means that many a plan is laid that doesn’t pan out just as it was expected to.

It was so in the case of Twinkly Eyes, the little Black Bear. It was lucky for him and it was lucky for Shadow Tail, the Red Squirrel, and it was lucky for Tattletale, the Jay. For if Tattletale had really been the means of leading the little Bear to Mother Red Squirrel’s nest, she’d never have forgiven Tattletale, but surely would have gone back and broken the rest of the eggs on which he had left Mrs. Jay sitting so patiently.

And if Twinkly Eyes had really caught the squirrel babies, as he wanted to, he’d have made such an enemy of every squirrel in all the woods around that he’d never have known peace again. For they’d have followed through the treetops, everywhere he went, scolding him and warning the mice and frogs and snakes to beware of his coming.

But there was one thing Tattletale the Jay had not stopped to consider when he led Twinkly Eyes to the tree in which Mother Red Squirrel had located. He didn’t stop to realize that the squirrel babies were far too clever to be caught napping.

No sooner did Shadow Tail and his brothers hear Twinkly’s great claws scrambling up the tree trunk than they promptly leaped into another tree, and the bear had his climb for his trouble.

Sliding down the trunk like a bag of meal, he tried the next tree, on the Jay’s advice, but with the same success. The little squirrels raced from branch to branch around him, hurling taunts and laughter at him, till he really began to be angry. But it was Mr. Jay he was angry with!

“See here,” he grumbled, “I do believe you have just been playing a prank on me!”

“Oh, no, I assure you,” began Tattletale, flying down beside the bear.

But Twinkly Eyes would have none of it. He suddenly remembered how often the Jay had warned his quarry away from him by flying just overhead and shrieking, “Look out, look out! A bear!”

With this memory bitter upon him, he made a sudden slap at Tattletale with his great barbed paw. But the bird was too quick for him. He was back in the tree tops before the little Bear knew what had happened.

“All right,” said Tattletale, “if you feel that way about it! You can’t do me any harm,” and he was off with a flash of his blue wings.

For a while Twinkly wandered on, hungrily listening for the squeak of a shrew mouse. Then suddenly he pricked up his ears. It was—it certainly was the buzzing of a honey bee! It came from a little wild rose bush.

Now a honey bee meant but one thing to Twinkly Eyes—a bee tree, and a bee tree meant honey. He would follow the sound when the bee flew home, and then—Um! His mouth fairly watered.