52 THE BABY STORE-KEEPER. 
Nearly three weeks passed, when the love of 
prying overcame all other scruples, and a peep 
into the snug, cosy, chequered retreat was irre- 
sistible. Separating with the utmost caution the 
walls of the entrance-hole, three baby-squirrels 
were visible-—such queer little animals, they 
seemed all eyes and tail. The papa and mamma 
were both loud in their remonstrances, and 
frightfully angry at the impertinent intrusion; 
but as I did not touch the infants, and, as far as 
practicable, mended the torn entrance, why, it 
appeared to me there was not much ground for 
complaint. 
Visiting my pets on the following day, imagine 
my surprise at finding the nest empty, and 
the old and young vanished together. First I 
thought some poaching weasel had murdered the 
innocents; but no—the old ones had carried 
them away into some other retreat, because I 
had looked at them, and meddled with the nest. 
Instinct here appears vastly near akin to 
reason; what had happened once, the ‘Store- 
keeper’ evidently thought might occur again, and 
wisely took the precautionary measure of conceal- 
ment, selecting a spot unknown to the intruder. 
Its name, ‘Ogress Squirrel,’ arises from a 
singular Indian tradition, that I think is quite 
