The Story of a Graysquirrel 



matched, sought to escape, dodged this 

 way and that, found refuge in a hole 

 under a root; and Bannertail, breathless, 

 with two or three slight stabs, swung 

 slowly up the tree from which Silvergray 

 had watched the fight of her mate. 



There never yet was feminine heart 

 that withheld its meed of worship from 

 her fighting champion coming home vic- 

 torious—which reason may not have en- 

 tered into it at all. But this surely 

 counted: The young ones' eyes were 

 opened, they were no longer shapeless 

 lumps of flesh. They were fuzzy little 

 Squirrels. The time had come for the 

 father to rejoin the brood. 



With the come-together instinct that 

 follows fight, he climbed to the very 

 doorway; she met him there, whisker to 

 whisker. She reached out and licked 

 his wounded shoulder; when she reen- 

 tered the den he came in too; nosing 



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