THE SUMMIT OF THE YEARS 



sitting erect with fore paws pressed against his 

 white chest, his tail rippling out behind him or up 

 his back, and his shrill, nasal tones still pouring out. 

 He hops to the next stone, he assumes a new posi- 

 tion, his tail palpitates and jerks more lively than 

 ever; now he is on all fours, with curved back; now 

 he sits up at an angle, his tail all the time charged 

 with mingled suspicion and mirth. Then he springs 

 to a rail that runs out at right angles from the wall 

 toward me, and with hectoring snickers and shrill 

 trebles, pointed straight at me, keeps up his per- 

 formance. What an actor he is! What a furry em- 

 bodiment of quick, nervous energy and imperti- 

 nence! Surely he has a sense of something like 

 humor; surely he is teasing and mocking me and 

 telling me, both by gesture and by word of mouth, 

 that I present a very ridiculous appearance. 



A chipmunk comes hurrying along with stuffed 

 cheek-pouches, traveling more on the side of the wall 

 than on the top, stopping every few yards to see that 

 the way is clear, but giving little heed to me or to the 

 performing squirrel. In comparison the chipmunk 

 is a demure, preoccupied, pretty little busybody who 

 often watches you curiously, but never mocks you 

 or pokes fun at you; while the gray squirrel has the 

 manners of the best-bred wood-folk, and he goes 

 his way without fuss or bluster, a picture of sylvan 

 grace and buoyancy. 



All the movements of the red squirrel are quick, 

 106 



