low Solomon's advice and use the rod. 

 I expected he would bite me, but he de- 

 veloped the unexpected grace of forbear- 

 ance and contented himself with giving 

 his opinion of my treatment in forcible 

 language. 



A pencil was not safe with him for a 

 moment. Left to his own devices he 

 would split off the wood in strips, laying 

 out the lead intact. He often dangled 

 one before me as a challenge to a game 

 of hide and seek ; seizing it in his mouth 

 he would run to cover under chairs and 

 tables, never dropping it until the game 

 was lost, when he would frisk away to 

 some high place, where he would chitter 

 and giggle with sinful glee. 



When he became annoying I frequent- 

 ly gave him a nut, for he was under the 

 imperative necessity of concealing it at 

 once, whatever other business he might 

 have on hand. It generally took him 

 some time to decide upon the proper 

 place ; under the chair cushion, the edge 

 of the carpet; in the fur rug; or occa- 

 sionally in my hair. When quite satis- 

 fied, he would tuck it in, pat it down 

 with both hands, look around to see 

 that all was safe, and dart away ; where- 

 upon I would basely dislodge and hand 

 it to him again, so keeping him busy in- 

 definitely. 



When spring came, it brought another 

 chamge of residence, which Bun accept- 

 ed with disapproval, but resignation. 

 When taken downstairs to be introduced 

 he slipped away, and was found making 

 himself comfortable in my room, to 

 which he unerringly found his way up 

 a flight of stairs and ■ through strange 

 rooms and passages. 



Upon further acquaintance he attached 

 himself to the young man of the family, 

 unwitting that that individual was a 

 mighty hunter, quite certain to "make 

 game" of him if they met at opposite 

 ends of a gun in autumn. 



The gentleman in question, an invet- 

 erate smoker, one day held out his pipe 

 to Bun. To our surprise that depraved 

 squirrel plunged his hand in to the bowl, 

 seized as large a quantity of tobacco as 

 he could secure, promptly devoured it, 

 and called for more. 



As the warm weather approached. 



Bun often sat with folded hands, gazing 

 out at the not far distant woods — a pa- 

 thetic little figure. The time was com- 

 ing when the windows must be kept 

 open, and it would be necessary to cage 

 him, set him free altogether, or give him 

 the run of the premises. Several evil- 

 minded cats and dogs made the latter 

 alternative undesirable. On the other 

 hand, if left alone, would he be able to 

 care for himself? Would he not miss 

 his home and feel himself a lost and for- 

 saken squirrel? After much debate, I 

 decided that he would probably echo' Pat- 

 rick Henry's sentiments. 



The result was that Easter Sunday 

 afternoon a melancholy procession left 

 the house, bearing Bun, again in his 

 box, to a sunny hillside, where the leaves 

 come first in the spring, and nuts fall 

 thick in the autumn. We also carried 

 a quantity of those delicacies with which 

 he was expected to begin housekeeping. 



"When the box was opened" there 

 was no question as to Bun's views. One 

 flash, and our house-bred, domesticated 

 pet was in the top of the tallest tree in 

 sight. His instinct was true, though he 

 was taken to the house from the nest. 



At first he seemed to fear recapture, 

 but gradually descended, keeping on the 

 opposite side of the trunk from us. I 

 lingered after the others had gone. Bun 

 came to the foot of the tree and began 

 digging in the fresh earth, apparently 

 unconscious of my presence ; but as I 

 began to walk slowly away, he followed, 

 running from bush to bush, until I se- 

 cretly hoped he might follow me home. 

 At the edge of the wood he came and 

 climbed upon my dress, but when I 

 reached out my hand he scampered 

 away into the brush. That was appar- 

 ently his farewell, for he paid no more 

 attention to me, and I took my lonely 

 way home through a singularly unsteady 

 section of country. 



In spite of many visits to that hillside, 

 I never saw him again. His face will 

 remain unknown, but I still have a ten- 

 der memory of my merry companion ; 

 and when the hazy autumn days come, 

 and hunters haunt the woods, I never 

 hear the sound of their guns without a 



pang. 



Elizabeth Miles Derrickson. 



157 



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