A LONESOME SQUIRREL 



lute rest is about the easiest thing I do — and inch 

 by inch he slipped down the tree until he was so 

 close that I could see his beady black eyes and see 

 half way down his throat when he opened his mouth 

 to squawk. At last he got as far down as he cared 

 to come, and continued to tell me about his troubles. 

 I was sorry that I couldn't think of anything to say 

 or do that would assuage his lonesomeness and grief, 

 but when I heard the call for dinner at the house, 

 and knew that I should be stirring, I flung a little 

 parody at him: 



"Is it weakness of intellect, Blackie?" I cried, 

 "Or a rather tough nut in your little inside?" 

 With a shake of his poor little head he replied, 

 "Ku-ku-kwanh ! Ku-ku-kwanh !" 



When I rose to my feet he rushed headlong into 

 a nearby hole. But let no one imagine that my time 

 was wasted while sitting watching that squirrel. Al- 

 though he was unable to say anything of importance 

 to me, and I was unable to say anything of im- 

 portance to him, you may note that the interview 

 was good for one extra long paragraph. I could 

 have gone out and interviewed some eminent human 

 without getting any more copy than I did from my 

 lonesome little black squirrel. 



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