154 THE CHIPMUNK 



Now his bloodthirsty enemy was looking for 

 him again, apparently relying entirely upon his 

 sense of smell to guide him to the game. 



How did the weasel know the squirrel had 

 not fallen clear to the ground? He certainly 

 did know, for when he reached the same tier of 

 branches, he began exploring them. The chip- 

 munk sat transfixed with fear, frozen with ter- 

 ror, not twelve feet away, and yet the weasel 

 saw him not. 



Bound and round, up and down he went on 

 the branches, exploring them over and over. 

 How he hurried, lest the trail get cold ! How 

 subtle and cruel and fiendish he looked ! His 

 snakelike movements, his tenacity, his speed! 



He seemed baffled; he knew his game was 

 near, but he could not strike the spot. The 

 branch, upon the extreme end of which the 

 squirrel sat, ran out and up from the tree seven 

 or eight feet, and then, turning a sharp elbow, 

 swept down and out at right angles with its 

 first covirse. 



The weasel would pause each time at this 

 elbow and turn back. It seemed as if he knew 

 that particular branch held his prey, and yet its 

 crookedness each time threw him out. He 

 would not give it up, but went over his course 

 again and again. 



One can fancy the feelings of the chipmunk, 

 sitting there in plain view a few feet away, 

 watching its deadly enemy hunting for the clue. 

 How its little heart must have fairly stood still 

 each time the fatal branch was struck. Prob- 



