92 THE FALL OF THE YEAR 



message slow and solemn, like the color of its sable 

 coat. 



VII 

 You ought to hear, you ought to catch, I should 

 say, a good round scolding from the red squirrel this 

 fall. A red squirrel is always ready to scold you (and 



doubtless you are al- 

 ways in need of his 

 scolding), but he is 

 never so breathless and 

 emphatic as in the fall. 

 " Whose nuts are these 

 in the woods?" he 

 asks, as you come up 

 with your stick and bag. "Who found this tree 

 first ? Come, get out of here ! Get right back to the 

 city and eat peanuts ! Come, do you hear ? Get out 

 of this!" 



No, don't, be afraid; he won't "eat you alive" — 

 though I think he might if he were big enough. He 

 won't blow up, either, and burst ! He is the kind of 

 fire-cracker that you call a "sizzler" — all sputter 

 and no explosion. But isn't he a tempest ! Is n't he 

 a whirlwind ! Is n't he a red-coated cyclone ! Let 

 him blow ! The little scamp, he steals birds' eggs in 

 the summer, they say ; but there are none now for 

 him to steal, and the woods are very empty. We 

 need a dash of him on these autumn days, as we 

 need a dash of spice in our food. 



