THE SEVEN SLEEPERS 213 
ing of knowledge that a bat’s tiny teeth are as sharp 
as needles and that he is always willing to use them. 
Not dangerous like the skunk, or brave like the 
raccoon, or big like the bear, the least of the 
Sleepers is the best-looking of them all. Shy and soli- 
tary, the gentle little jumping mouse is as dainty as 
he looks. His fur is lead, overlaid with gold deepening 
to a dark brown on the back, and like the deer-mouse 
he wears a snowy silk waistcoat and stockings. His 
strength is in his powerful crooked hind-legs, and his 
length in his silky tail, which occupies five of his 
eight inches. Given one jump ahead of any foe that 
runs, springs, flies, or crawls, and Mr. Jumping 
Mouse is safe. He patters through the grass by the 
edge of thickets and weed-patches, like any other 
mouse, until alarmed. Then with a bound he shoots 
high into the air, in a leap that will cover from two 
to twelve feet. It is in this that his long tail plays 
its part. In a graceful curve, with tip upturned, it 
balances and guides him through the air in a jump 
which will cover over forty times his own length, 
equivalent to a performance of two hundred and forty 
feet by a human jumper. The instant he strikes, 
the jumper soars away again like a bird, at right 
angles to his first jump, and zigzags here and there 
through the air, so fast and so far as to baffle even the 
swift hawk and the dogged weasel. 
Every day Mr. Jumping Mouse washes and pol- 
ishes his immaculate self, and draws his long silky 
tail through his mouth until every hair shines. Mrs. 
