THE SQUIRREL 31 



WOW- wow ' that is far more canine than any other 

 rodent can accomplish, with the possible exception 

 of the prairie ' dog.' 



I look up, and behold the mechanical ' chunk, 

 chunk ' is the vocal product of the other squirrel 

 running lightly on the black clouds of the pine 

 foliage, and crying ' cave ' to its companion. It 

 runs right to the edge of a cloud, its hind-feet 

 turned out till they almost point backward, so 

 that they hold a sheaf of twigs between their hands. 

 And it jumps frpm one cloud to the next, passing 

 from tree to tree as easily as we from paving-stome 

 to paving-stone. The other squirrel pauses at 

 the first fork and looks back at me, working its 

 jaws in a kind of mumbling rage. I clap my hands, 

 and its rushes up the next stage with another 

 ' wow- wow- wow- WOW- wow,' turning and sitting 

 there, and again wagging its tail like an angry cat. 



No more sitting up with elegant acanthine tail. 

 Squatting along a branch or dumped into a fork, 

 it peers impudently out, or it takes a straight- 

 tailed run and launches itself flatly on the air, 

 almost flying to the next tree, or it spread-eagles 

 on a trunk almost like a handkerchief with hooks 

 at each corner, or hangs from only the hind-legs 

 like a bat, this protean creature that seems many 

 animals rolled into one. I shall have to leave it 

 now, for it is far too much offended to do any- 

 thing but hurl at me its arboreal Billingsgate, and 

 shout to his brother burglar, ' Here 's a stranger, 

 Bill, let 's heave a brick at 'im.' 



