Across the lake was a neat little cabin where an “old-timer” lived all the year round. He raised quite a crop of vegetables, which he sold to campers.
    The old guide took the tenderfoot over with him on a vegetable buying trip. “We’d like a couple of those fine squashes of yours, I’ve noticed lately they’re coming along great,” remarked the guide.
    The wrinkled old woodsman shook his head. “Sorry, but they’re gone those were the squasholiger variety, you know.”
    “Oh, sure,” nodded the guide, “That’s the walling kind ain’t it?”
    “Yep. They grow just like any other squash on vines, only heaps larger. And as they ripen their eyes and legs come out and their mouth opens, and just before they’re ready to walk, a piece of the vine turns into a tail, and —presto! Off they go!”
    “Don’t you ever get them?” asked the tenderfoot.
    “ Nope. You see their green color helps them hide in the underbrush. But I don’t understand losing them, because they stay around the place and live on bugs and insects, so you see they’re considerable help. They’re a rare variety, though. Isn’t often I raise any of ’em.”