A TREE-TOP AERONAUT 177 



by a weasel which had had bad luck in 

 his night's hunting. 



Sinuous as a snake and swifter, his cruel 

 eyes glowing like points of live flame, the long 

 yellow form of the weasel darted forward. 

 With a faint squeak of terror the squirrel 

 sprang for the sloping trunk, his own hope 

 being to get high enough to launch himself 

 into the air. But the flying-squirrel is less 

 nimble on his feet than the red or the grey. 

 He was much slower than the weasel. He 

 gained the sloping trunk, indeed, but the 

 foe was almost at his heels. It looked as if 

 the doom of the wild was upon him. By a 

 frantic effort, however, he evaded for a 

 second the weasel's rush. Desperately he 

 raced up the well-known trail. He came to 

 the cage. There was no time to go over it 

 or to go around it. He hurled himself 

 straight in and brought up with a shock 

 against the wires of the partition. At the 

 same instant there was a loud click behind 

 him. The door snapped down tight. And 

 the weasel, unable to check himself, bumped 

 his nose against the wires with a violence 

 that brought the blood and stirred his hunt- 

 ing lust to a madness of fury. 



Both pursuer and pursued recovered them- 

 selves in a second. It was well that the 



