The bright, sharp days of autumn passed. The leaves were on the groundthroughout the woods in noisy dryness and lavish superabundance. Thesummer birds had gone, and the Chipmunk, oversensitive to the crispnessof the mornings, had bowed sedately on November 1, had said his last"good-by," and had gone to sleep. Thus one more voice was hushed, thefeeling of the woods was "_Hush, be still!_"--was all-expectant of somenew event, that the tentacles of high-strung wood-folk sensed andappraised as sinister. Backward they shrank, to hide away and wait.
_THE SUN SONG OF BANNERTAIL_
CHAPTER VII
THE SUN SONG OF BANNERTAIL
THE sun was rising in a rosy mist, and glinting the dew-wet overlimbs,as there rang across the bright bare stretch of woodland a loud "_Qua,qua, qua, quaaaaaaa!_" Like a high priest of the sun on the topmost peakof the temple stood Bannertail, carried away by a new-born inner urge. Afull-grown wildwood Graysquirrel he was now, the call of the woods hadclaimed him, and he hailed the glory of the east with an ever longer"_Qua, qua, quaaaaaaaaaa!_"
This was the season of the shortest days, though no snow had come as yetto cover the brown-leaved earth. Few birds were left of the summermerrymakers. The Crow, the Nuthatch, the Chickadee, and the Woodwalealone were there, and the sharp tang of the frost-bit air was holdingback their sun-up calls. But Bannertail, a big Graysquirrel now, foundgladness in the light, intensified, it seemed, by the very lateness ofits coming.
"_Qua, qua, qua, quaaaaaa_," he sang, and done into speech of man thesong said: "_Hip, hip, hip, hurrahhh!_"
He had risen from his bed in the hollow oak to meet and greet it. He wasfull of lusty life now, and daily better loved his life. "_Qua, qua,qua, quaaaa!_"--he poured it out again and again. The Chickadee quit hisbug hunt for a moment to throw back his head and shout: "_Me, too!_" TheNuthatch, wrong end up, answered in a low, nasal tone: "_Hear, hear,hear!_" Even the sulky Crow joined in at last with a "_'Rah, 'rah,'rah!_" and the Woodwale beat a long tattoo.
"_Hip, hip, hip, hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!_" shouted Bannertail as theall-blessed glory rose clear above the eastern trees and the world wasaflood with the Sun-God's golden smile.
A score of times had he thus sung and whip-lashed his tail, and sungagain, exulting, when far away, among the noises made by birds, was alow "_Qua, quaaa!_"--the voice of another Graysquirrel!
His kind was all too scarce in Jersey-land, and yet another would notnecessarily be a friend; but in the delicate meaningful modulations ofsound so accurately sensed by the Squirrel's keen ear, this far-off"_Qua, qua_," was a little softer than his own, a little higher-pitched,a little more gently modulated, and Bannertail knew without a moment'sguessing. "Yes, it was a Graysquirrel, and it was not one that wouldtake the war-path against him."
The distant voice replied no more, and Bannertail set about foraging forhis morning meal.
The oak-tree in which he had slept was only one of the half-a-dozen bedshe now claimed. It was a red oak, therefore its acorns were of poorquality; and it was on the edge of the woods. The best feeding-groundswere some distance away, but the road to them well known. Although somuch at home in the trees, Bannertail travelled on the ground when goingto a distance. Down the great trunk, across an open space to a stump, apause on the stump to fluff his tail and look around, a few bounds to afence, then along the top of that in three-foot hops till he came to thegap; six feet across this gap, and he took the flying leap with pride,remembering how, not so long ago, he used perforce to drop to theground and amble to the other post. He was making for the white oak andhickory groves; but his keen nose brought him the message of a big redacorn under the leaves. He scratched it out and smelled it--yes, good.He ripped off the shell and here, ensconced in the middle, was a fatwhite grub, just as good as the nut itself, or better. So Bannertail hadgrub on the half-shell and nuts on the side for his first course. Thenhe set about nosing for hidden hickory-nuts; few and scarce were they.He had not found one when a growing racket announced the curse-beast ofthe woods, a self-hunting dog. Clatter, crash, among the dry leaves andbrush, it came, yelping with noisy, senseless stupidity when it found atrack that seemed faintly fresh. Bannertail went quietly up a nearelm-tree, keeping the trunk between himself and the beast. From the elmhe swung to a basswood, and finished his meal of basswood buds. Keepingone eye on the beast, he scrambled to an open platform nest that he hadmade a month ago, where he lazed in the sun, still keeping eyes and earsalert for tidings from the disturber below.
The huge brute prowled around and found the fresh scent up the elm, andbarked at it, too, but of course he was barking up the wrong tree, andpresently went off. Bannertail watched him with some faint amusement,then at last went rippling down the trunk and through the woods like acork going down a rushing stream.
He was travelling homeward by the familiar route, on the ground, inundulated bounds, with pauses at each high lookout, when again the alarmof enemies reached him--a dog, sniffing and barking, and farther off ahunter. Bannertail made for the nearest big tree, and up that he went,keeping ever the trunk between. Then came the dog--a Squirrel Hound--andfound the track and yelped. Up near the top was a "dray," or platformnest, one Bannertail had used and partly built, and in this he stretchedout contentedly, peering over the edge at the ugly brutes below. The dogkept yelping up the trunk, saying plainly: "_Squirrel, squirrel,squirrel, up, up, up!_" And the hunter came and craned his neck till itwas cricked, but nothing he saw to shoot at. Then he did what a hunteroften does. He sent a charge of shot through the nest that was in plainview. There were some heavy twigs in its make-up, and it rested on amassive fork, or the event might have gone hard with Bannertail. Thetimber received most of the shock of the shot, but a something wentstinging through his ear tip that stuck beyond the rim. It hurt andscared him, and he was divided between the impulse to rush forth andseek other shelter, and the instinct to lie absolutely still.Fortunately he lay still, and the hunter passed on, leaving the Squirrelwiser in several ways, for now he knew the danger of the dray whengunners came and the wisdom of "lay low" when in doubt.
_THE COLD SLEEP_
CHAPTER VIII
THE COLD SLEEP
NEXT day there was a driving storm of snow, and whether the sun came upor not Bannertail did not know. He kept his nest, and, falling back onan ancient spend-time of the folk he kins with, he curled up into asleep that deepened with the cold. This is partly a deliberate sleep.The animal voluntarily lets go, knowing that life outside isunattractive; he, by an act of the will, induces the cold sleep, that islike a chapter of forgetfulness, with neither hunger nor desire, andafter it is over, no pain in punishment or remorse.
For two days the storm raged, and when the white flakes ceased to pileupon the hills and trees, a cutting blast arose that sent snow-horsesriding across the fields and piled them up in drifts along the fences.
It made life harder for the Squirrel-Folk by hiding good Mother Earthfrom their hungry eyes; but in one way the wind served them, for itswept the snow from all the limbs that served the tree-folk as anover-way.
For two days the blizzard hissed. The third day it was very cold; on thefourth day Bannertail peeped forth on the changed white world. The wind,the pest of wild life in the trees, had ceased, the sky was clear, andthe sun was shining in a weak, uncertain way. It evoked no enthusiasm inthe Graycoat's soul. Not once did he utter his Sun-salute. He was stiffand sleepy, and a little hungry as he went forth. His hunger grew withthe exercise of moving. Had he been capable of such thought he mighthave said: "Thank goodness the wind has swept the snow from thebranches." He galloped and bounded from one high over-way to another,till a wide gap between tree-tops compelled him to descend. Over thebroad forest floor of shining white he leaped, and made for the belovedhickory grove. Pine-cones furnish food, so do buds of elm andflower-buds of maple. Red acorns are bitter yet eatable, white acornsstill better, and chestnuts and beechnuts delicious, but the crowningglory of a chosen feast is nuts of the big shag hickory--so hard ofshell that only the strongest chi
sel teeth can reach them, so preciousthat nature locks them up in a strong-box of stone, enwrapped in asole-leather case; so sought after, that none of them escape the hungrycreatures of the wood for winter use, except such as they themselveshave hidden for just such times. Bannertail quartered the surface of thesnow among the silent bare-limbed trees, sniffing, sniffing, alert forthe faintest whiff.
A hound would not have found it--his nose is trained for other game.Bannertail stopped, swung his keen "divining-rod," advanced a few hops,moved this way and that, then at the point of the most alluring whiff,he began to dig down, down through the snow.
Soon he was out of sight, for here the drift was nearly two feet deep.But he kept on, then his busy hind feet replacing the front ones asdiggers for a time, sent flying out on the white surface brown leaves,then black loam. Nothing showed but his tail and little jets ofleaf-mould. His whole arm's-length into the frosty ground did he dig,allured by an ever-growing rich aroma. At last he seized and draggedforth in his teeth a big fat hickory-nut, one buried by himself lastfall, and, bounding with rippling tail up a tree to a safe perch thatwas man-high from the ground, he sawed the shell adroitly and feasted onthe choicest food that is known to the Squirrel kind.
A second prowl and treasure-hunt produced another nut, a third producedan acorn, a visit to the familiar ever-unfrozen spring quenched histhirst, and then back he undulated through the woods and over the snowto his cosey castle in the oak.
_THE BALKING OF FIRE-EYES_
CHAPTER IX
THE BALKING OF FIRE-EYES
OTHER days were much like this as the Snow-moon slowly passed. But onethere was that claimed a place in his memory for long. He had gonefarther afield to another grove of hickories, and was digging down sodeep into the snow that caution compelled him to come out and lookaround at intervals. It was well he did so, for a flash of brown andwhite appeared on a near log. It made toward him, and Bannertail got aninstinctive sense of fear. Small though it was, smaller than himself,the diabolic fire in its close-set eyes gave him a thrill of terror. Hefelt that his only safety lay in flight.
Now it was a race for the tall timber, and a close one, but Bannertail'shops were six feet long; his legs went faster than the eye could see.The deep snow was harder on him than on his ferocious enemy, but hereached the great rugged trunk of an oak, and up that, gaining a little.The Weasel followed close behind, up, up, to the topmost limbs, and outon a long, level branch to leap for the next tree. Bannertail could leapfarther than Fire-eyes, but then he was heavier and had to leap fromwhere the twigs were thicker. So Fire-eyes, having only half as far togo, covered the leap as well as the Squirrel did, and away they went asbefore.
BAFFLING FIRE-EYES]
Every wise Squirrel knows all the leaps in his woods, those which he caneasily make, and those which will call for every ounce of power inhis legs. The devilish pertinacity of the Weasel, still hard after him,compelled him to adopt a scheme. He made for a wide leap, the very limitof his powers, where the take-off was the end of a big broken branch,and racing six hops behind was the Brown Terror. Without a moment'spause went Bannertail easily across the six-foot gap, to land on asturdy limb in the other tree. And the Weasel! He knew he could not makeit, hung back an instant, gathered his legs under him, snarled, glaredredder-eyed than ever, bobbed down a couple of times, measured thedistance with his eye, then wheeled and, racing back, went down thetree, to cross and climb the one that sheltered the Squirrel. Bannertailquietly hopped to a higher perch, and, when the right time came, leapedback again to the stout oak bough. Again the Weasel, with doggedpertinacity, raced down and up, only to see the Graysquirrel again leaplightly across the impassable gulf. Most hunters would have given upnow, but there is no end to the dogged stick-to-itiveness of the Weasel;besides, he was hungry. And half-a-dozen times he had made the longcircuit while his intended victim took the short leap. Then Bannertail,gaining confidence, hit on a plan which, while it may have been meantfor mere teasing, had all the effect of a deep stratagem played withabsolute success.
When next the little red-eyed terror came racing along the oak limb,Bannertail waited till the very last moment, then leaped, grasped thefar-side perch, and, turning, "yipped" out one derisive "_grrrf, grrrf,grrrf_" after another, and craned forward in mockery of the little fury.This was too much. Wild with rage, the Weasel took the leap, fell farshort, and went whirling head over heels down seventy-five feet, to landnot in the soft snow but on a hard-oak log, that knocked out his cruelwind, and ended for the day all further wish to murder or destroy.
_REDSQUIRREL, THE SCOLD OF THE WOODS_
CHAPTER X
REDSQUIRREL, THE SCOLD OF THE WOODS
THE Snow-moon was waning, the Hunger-moon at hand, when Bannertail metwith another adventure. He had gone far off to the pine woods of a deepglen, searching for cones, when he was set on by a Redsquirrel.Flouncing over the plumy boughs it came, chattering: "_Squat, squat,quit, quit, quit_"--"_git, git, git_"--and each moment seemed moreinclined to make a tooth-and-nail attack on Bannertail. And he, what hadhe to fear? Was he not bigger and stronger than the Red-headed One? Yes,very well able to overmatch him in fight, but his position was muchlike that of a grown man who is assailed by a blackguard boy. There isno glory in the fight, if it comes to that. There is much unpleasantpublicity, and the man usually decides that it is better to ignore theinsult and retreat. This was Bannertail's position exactly. He hated arow--most wild things do--it brings them into notice of the verycreatures they wish to avoid. Besides, the Redsquirrel was not withoutsome justification, for these were his pine-trees by right of longpossession. Bannertail, without touch of violence or fear of it, yieldedto the inward impulses, yielded and retreated, closely pursued by theRedsquirrel, who kept just out of reach, but worked himself up into astill noisier rage as he saw the invader draw off. It was characteristicof the Red One that he did not stop at the border of his own range butfollowed right into the hickory country, shrieking: "_Git, git, yebrute ye, ye brute ye, git!_" with insolence born of his success, thoughits real explanation was beyond him.
_BANNERTAIL AND THE ECHO VOICE_
CHAPTER XI
BANNERTAIL AND THE ECHO VOICE
THE Hunger-moon, our February, was half worn away when again the skygods seemed to win against the powers of chill and gloom. Food was everscarcer, but Bannertail had enough, and was filled with the vigor ofyoung life. The sun came up in a cloudless sky that day, and blazedthrough the branches of still, tense woodland, the air was crisp andexhilarating, and Bannertail, tingling with the elation of life, leapedup for the lust of leaping, and sang out his loudest song:
"_Qua, qua, qua, quaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!_" from a high perch. Ringingacross the woodland it went, and the Woodwales drummed on hardwooddrums, in keen responsiveness, to the same fair, vernal influence of thetime.
Though he seemed only to sing for singing's sake, he was consciouslately of a growing loneliness, a hankering for company that had neverpossessed him all winter; indeed, he had resented it when any hint ofvisitors had reached him, but now he was restless and desireful, as wellas bursting with the wish to sing.
"_Qua, qua, qua, quaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!_" he sang again and again, and onthe still, bright air were echoes from the hills.
"_Qua, qua, quaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!_" He poured it out again, and the echocame, "_Qua, quaaaaa!_" Then another call, and the echo, "_Quaaa!_"
Was it an echo?
He waited in silence--then far away he heard the soft "_Qua, quaa_" thathad caught his ear last fall. The voice of another Graycoat, but so softand alluring that it thrilled him. Here, indeed, was the answer to thehankering in his heart.
But even as he craned and strained to locate its very place, anothercall was heard:
"_Qua, qua, qua, quaaaaaa_"
from some big strong Graycoat like himself, and all the fighting bloodin him was stirred. He raced to the ground and across the woodland tothe hillside whence the voice came.
On a log he stopped, with senses
alert for new guidance. "_Qua, qua,quaaa_," came the soft call, and up the tree went Bannertail, a silverytail-tip flashed behind the trunk, and now, ablaze with watchfulness, hefollowed fast. Then came a lone, long "_Qua, qua_," then a defiant"_Grrff_," like a scream, and a third big Graysquirrel appeared, toscramble up after Bannertail.
_THE COURTING OF SILVERGRAY_
CHAPTER XII
THE COURTING OF SILVERGRAY
AWAY went Silvergray, undulating among the high branches that led to thenext tree, and keen behind came the two. Then they met at the branchthat had furnished the footway for the Gray Lady, and in a moment theyclinched. Grappling like cats, they drove their teeth into each other'sshoulders, just where the hide was thickest and the danger least.
In their combat rage they paid no heed to where they were. Their everyclutch was on each other, none for the branch, and over they tumbledinto open space.
Two fighting cats so falling would have clutched the harder and hopedeach that the other would be the one to land on the under side.Squirrels have a different way. Sensing the fall, at once they sprangapart, each fluffed his great flowing tail to the utmost--it is nature'sown "land-easy"--they landed gently, wide apart, and quite unshaken evenby the fall. Overhead was the Lady of the tourney, in plain view, andthe two stout knights lost not a moment in darting up her tree; againthey met on a narrow limb, again they clutched and stabbed each otherwith their chisel teeth, again the reckless grapple, clutch, and thedrop in vacant air--again they shot apart, one landed on the solidground, but the other--the echo voice--went splash, plunge into thedeepest part of the creek! In ten heart-beats he was safely on the bank.But there is such soothing magic in cold water, such quenching of allfires, be they of smoke or love or war, that the Echo Singer crawledforth in quite a different mood, and Bannertail, flashing up the greattree trunk, went now alone.