ALONE IN A ROOM FULL OF RATS 29 



Every summer evening, after the sun ball has 

 sunk behind the hill across Big Tink Pond, and 

 the hoot-owl and whippoorwill have begun to talk, 

 a shadow-like object is seen to sail from the apex 

 of the roof down into the gloom ; more phantoms 

 follow, until at times there are several in the air 

 at once, and we know that it is Fanny Flying 

 Squirrel and her living parachute descendants de- 

 parting for the night and we may sleep for a while 

 in peace. 



But with 



THE "WOLF'S BRUSH," 



that pale gleam of light which precedes the dawn, 

 on the eastern horizon, the bright-eyed little 

 aeronauts return from their night's frolic and 

 thump ! thump ! their bodies strike the shingles 

 overhead and patter ! patter ! go their little feet 

 scampering over the roof, 



Within five or ten minutes from the first thump 

 heard on the shingles the last little imp has re- 

 turned, and one may hear them in all the gloomy, 

 mysterious corners rustling about as they settle 

 themselves for a long summer's day nap. They 

 wake up again at dusk of the following evening, 

 when, if it is fair, they sally forth, but on rainy 

 or stormy nights they do not go out. 



An ordinary rat trap will not confine a flying 

 squirrel, for so flat is its beautiful little body that 

 by using the force of its muscles it can spread the 

 wires apart far enough to escape. I always use 

 my hand, usually protected by a glove or some 



