THE RED SQUIRREL 



he flattens himself against a tree-trunk, 

 toes and tail quivering with intensity of 

 ridicule as fully expressed in every mo- 

 tion as in his nasal snicker and throaty 

 chuckle or in the chattering jeer that 

 he pours down when he has attained a 

 midway or topmost bough and cocks his 

 tail with a saucy curve above his arched 

 back. 



When he persistently retires within 

 his wooden tower, he still peers out 

 saucily from his lofty portal, and if he 

 disappears you may yet hear the smoth- 

 ered chuckle wherewith he continues to 

 tickle his ribs. When in a less scornful 

 mood, he is at least supremely indiffer- 

 ent, deigning to regard you with but the 

 corner of an eye, while he rasps a nut 

 or chips a cone. 



Ordinarily you must be philosophical 

 or godly to suffer gibes with equanim- 

 ity, but you need be neither to endure 

 the scoffs of this buffoon of the woods 

 and waysides. They only amuse you 

 as they do him, and you could forgive 

 these tricks tenfold multiplied if he had 

 no worse, and love him if he were but 

 half as good as he is beautiful. 

 179 



