THE CHIPMUNK 153 



rustling amid the branches of a tree a few rods be- 

 yond me. Looking thither I saw a chipmunk fall 

 through the air, and catch on a limb twenty or more 

 feet from the ground. He appeared to have dropped 

 from near the top of the tree. 



He secured his hold upon the small branch that 

 had luckily intercepted his fall, and sat perfectly 

 still. In a moment more I saw a weasel — one of 

 the smaller red varieties — come down the trunk of 

 the tree, and begin exploring the branches on a level 

 with the chipmunk. 



I saw in a moment what had happened. The 

 weasel had driven the squirrel from his retreat in 

 the rocks and stones beneath, and had pressed him 

 so closely that he had taken refuge in the top of a 

 tree. But weasels can climb trees, too, and this 

 one had tracked the frightened chipmunk to the top- 

 most branch, where he had tried to seize him. Then 

 the squirrel had, in horror, let go his hold, screamed, 

 and fallen through the air, till he struck the branch 

 as just described. Now his bloodthirsty enemy was 

 looking for him again, apparently relying entirely 

 upon his sense of smell to guide him to the game. 



How did the weasel know the squirrel had not 

 fallen clear to the ground 1 He certainly did know, 

 for when he reached the same tier of branches he 

 began exploring them. The chipmunk sat trans- 

 fixed with fear, frozen with terror, not twelve feet 

 away, and yet the weasel saw him not. 



Round and round, up and down, he went on the 

 branches, exploring them over and over. How he 

 hurried, lest the trail get cold! How subtle and 



