The Story of a Graysquirrel 



near-dead Bannertail, came to himself, 

 his much-enfeebled self. His head was 

 throbbing, his body was cramped with 

 pain, his mouth was dry and burning. 

 Down -hill he crawled and groped slowly 

 to the running stream and drank. It re- 

 vived him a little, enough so he could 

 crawl up the bank and seek a dry place 

 under a log to lie in peace — sad, miser- 

 able, moaning peace. 



Three days he suffered there, but the 

 fever had turned on that first night ; from 

 the moment of that cooling drink he was 

 on the mend. For food he had no wish, 

 but daily and deeply he drank at the 

 stream. 



On that third day he was well enough 

 to scramble up the hill; he passed a scat- 

 tering group of the earthy madcaps. Oh, 

 how he loathed them ; their very smell set 

 his mouth a -dripping, refusing its own 

 proper juice. 



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