256 



AUTUMN AND WINTER 



effective flight was straight up the wall ; and he took it. 



With his body very close and legs wide he clambered up 



without great difficulty until he came to an old window that 



had been filled up with newer brick. 

 On this the claws could hardly grip, 

 and as he attempted it, three feet 

 slipped altogether and a fall was only 

 prevented by a single claw. The 

 weasel, now about thirty feet from the 

 ground, stopped still, perhaps intending 

 to wait till the enemy had departed. 

 But one of them, less kind than the 

 rest, began to throw tennis balls at 

 the clinging beast. Again he had only 

 one safe alternative, and took the 

 venture. At this attempt he crossed 



the danger zone successfully, and going very quickly over 



the last stage, disappeared into a gutter running along 



the roof. The athleticism of the escape astonished us at 



first, but the brick was old and well pitted. It may be 



that in the chronicles of the weasel's 



accomplishments it would not reach 



very high. 



But as one thought over the stages 



of the flight, its reasoned pauses and 



determined rushes, one was most 



astonished by the cool courage, the 



deliberate calculation of odds at a crisis. 



The animals are vermin when they hunt, but they deserve a 



more heroic word when they fly. 



In one sense, nearly all animals are brave : they bear 



pain well, or, if the description is preferred, their nervous 



system is not sensitive enough to suffer. A rabbit with 



