The day on which the great disaster befell us was wet in the early morning, and when the sun rose a thick, soft mist, white like cotton-wool, hung over the country-side. Not a breath of air was stirring, and it was so intensely still that it seemed as though one could hear everything that moved from one end of the wood to the other. The plop of a water-rat diving into a pool in the stream on the far side of the coppice came as clearly to my ears as though the water had been at the bottom of our own tree instead of several hundred yards away, and when the wood-pigeons began to move unseen in the smother, the clatter of their wings was positively startling.
We squirrel folk are not fond of wet, so we lay still and snug in our cosy retreat until the sun began to eat up the mist. Soon the grey smother thinned and sank, leaving the tree-tops bathed in brilliant light, every twig dripping with moisture, and every drop sparkling with intense brilliance. Then we crept out one by one, and, sitting up straight upon our haunches, began our morning toilet. No other woodland creature is so careful and tidy in its habits as a squirrel, and mother had already thoroughly instructed us in the proper methods of using our paws as brushes and our tongues as sponges, and in making ourselves neat and smart as self-respecting, healthy squirrels should be.
Suddenly a peal of distant bells came clanging through the moist, calm air with such a vibrating note that they made us all start. Father sat up sharply, and mother asked him what was the matter.
He explained to us that he had learnt by experience that when those bells rang out it was a dangerous time for us, for all the mischievous boys and rough fellows in the neighbourhood seemed to appear in the woods, and the keeper was never seen. He did not know why this should be, but from long custom he had grown to be uneasy at the sound.
Mother shuddered sympathetically, and rubbed against him caressingly, with a movement that told him not to worry, and she reminded him consolingly that even if our tormentors did take it into their heads to come into the wood they would not be likely to find us, since we had moved.
But father, instead of responding, suddenly pricked up his ears, and, signalling to us to be quiet, listened eagerly to some sound which the rest of us had not yet caught. For a moment he sat up straight, as still as though stuffed; then he turned and spoke sharply, with a warning sound that told us to lie as still as mice, for some danger was approaching.
Sure enough, a minute later we all heard the warning cry of a frightened blackbird, and immediately afterwards the brushing and trampling of a number of heavy boots through the wet grass and fern in the distance. At once we all stretched ourselves out tight as bark along the flat bough which formed the foundation of our nest, and lay there still as so many sleeping dormice.
The steps came rapidly nearer, and soon voices sounded plainly through the hush of the quiet wood. Imagine how I shuddered when I recognized the coarse tones of our former enemies mixed with others equally harsh and unpleasant! They were making straight for our part of the wood.
Shaking though I was in every limb, curiosity drove me to peep cautiously over the edge of the bough. The mist was all gone now, and there, below the tall larch-tree which had been our old home and the scene of our recent narrow escape, stood four young louts, our old enemies and two others about the same size and age, all craning their necks and staring upwards through the thick, pale-green branches. Each was carrying in his right hand a short, flexible stick with a heavy head. These were not long enough for walking-sticks, such as Crump, the keeper, and other humans who sometimes came through the wood carried; and, in spite of my fright, I wondered greatly what they were for. Alas! it was not long before I learnt the terrible powers of the cruel ‘squailer.’
After a good deal of argument and dispute one of the new-comers swung himself up on to the lowest bough. He climbed far better and faster than the one who had tried before, and in a very short time had reached a bough close below our old drey.
By this time I was getting over my fright a little. I turned to Rusty, who was next me.
‘What a sell for them when they find no one at home!’ I whispered in his ear.
But Rusty only grunted, and a sharp signal for silence came from father.
The bough which had been broken before stopped the climber for a few moments, but presently he managed to swarm up the trunk and seat himself astride of the very branch upon which our former home was founded.
They shouted to him from below to be careful. The fellow in the tree paid no heed, but, clutching the trunk with one hand to steady himself, boldly thrust the other into the nest. There was a sharp exclamation of disgust; and he cried out furiously that there was nothing there.
They were all in great excitement, and kept urging him to look further and to make sure we weren’t hiding. He felt in every crevice of the nest, and peered about in the boughs, and then, having evidently made up his mind we had really gone, prepared to descend.
But the others called to him to look again, so, steadying himself once more upon the bough, he peered upward. Then he solemnly declared, shaking his head, that there was nothing in the tree. To prove it, with a sweep of his great red paw, he carelessly ripped our old home from its perch and sent it tumbling to the ground. I heard mother give a little gasp as she saw destroyed in an instant the results of so many hours of careful and loving toil; but my own thoughts and eyes were so concentrated upon the invader of our rightful domain that I am afraid I hardly considered her injured feelings. Still they would not allow him to come down; and now came in a very real danger. From the ground it would have been quite impossible for them to spy us out in our new quarters, but up the tree this fellow was on a level with us, and had only to get a clear look between the boughs to spy our little red bodies, which, however much we crouched together, made a considerable ball of fur.
Climbing to his feet, he stood upright on the bough, clinging with one arm to the trunk. It was this movement which proved our undoing. Standing thus, his head was clear of the dwindling foliage near the spire-like summit of the larch, and from his lofty perch his eye commanded the tree-tops in the neighbourhood. A moment later his gaze fell upon us, five small scared balls of red fur, and his roar of triumph struck terror to our quaking hearts.
Without paying the slightest attention to the shouted questions of his friends below, he swung himself down hand over hand, and in a very short time had dropped to the ground, and was running across towards our fir-tree, with the others yelping at his heels like a pack of harriers after a hare.
Mother and father exchanged a few hurried words, but what they said I in my excitement had not the faintest idea. Next moment father had me by the scruff of the neck, and darted away up into the thick and almost impenetrable top of the giant fir. Mother, with Hazel between her teeth, came after him like a flash.
The fir-trunk forked near the summit; it was to this point that father carried me, and dropped me in the niche between the two boughs. Instantly he was off again to fetch Rusty. Before our enemies had noticed what was happening, and while they were still arguing as to which of them should do the climbing, all we three youngsters had been deposited together in our lofty refuge.
A scuffling noise and the sound of heavy breathing came from below. One of the gang had begun the ascent of the tree. Mother looked at father in a sort of dumb agony. She was palpitating with fright, and her dark eyes were large and brilliant with terror.
‘Can we reach another tree, Redskin?’ she asked tremblingly.
But father knew better, and signified, ‘No.’ They two might have done it themselves, but carrying us the jump would be too long to risk.
From far below the bumping, scuffling noise slowly grew louder and nearer. It was a long way up to the first bough of the fir-tree, and the climber—it was the same one again—was obliged to swarm the scaly red trunk. We could not, of course, see anything of him, for the matted tangle of crooked branches below, with their foliage of thick, dark green needles, formed an impenetrable screen.
I cannot even now remember that long wait in the sunny tree-top, while ever from below the unseen danger crept upon us, without an unpleasant thrill, and I know that both my brother and my sister shared my feelings. The worst part of it all was the sight of the terror of our father, who had always been to us a pattern of bravery. The fact was that he realized the position, which we younger ones did not do fully. He was only too well aware that we were trapped. He and mother might have easily escaped by descending to the longer branches below, and thence jumping into a spruce which grew close by; but they would not desert us, and both remained clinging tightly to the main trunk just beside us.
The hollow in which my brother and sister and I were placed gave us complete shelter from below, but there was only just room for the three of us. Father and mother were forced to expose themselves. The fir was, as I have said before, a very large tree—quite seventy feet high—old, thick, and gnarled, and the boughs were of considerable thickness near to its very summit. Father no doubt understood that our bulky enemy would, if he had the pluck, be able to pursue us right up to our lofty perch, and was aware of our almost hopeless position.
Slowly, very slowly, our persecutor came upwards. The branches, once he was among them, were so close and thick that he evidently found it difficult to force his way between them. Every now and then he would stop and puff and blow; then the creaking of large boughs and the cracking of small twigs announced a fresh effort on his part.
At last he was only separated from our second nest by a very small interval. Yet he had not discovered it was empty. The others kept yelling out questions to him, but he made no reply, only forced his way through the tree, which, I am bound to say, was very thick indeed.
More scrambling. Then he caught sight of the nest and redoubled his efforts. But when he was nearly up to it he reached up his arm, and without the slightest fear that he might be bitten as his companion had been, thrust his huge hand into it. The result was a savage exclamation. Angrily he seized the empty nest, tore it out, and sent it flying down as he had done the other.
By this time the others were a little tired of waiting, and began to scatter out from the tree to try to spy us themselves. Common sense must have told them that we had only left the nest when we heard them, and could not be far, and that we could probably be seen somewhere in the surrounding boughs. A few moments’ suspense, and then the awful warning shout again told us we were discovered. The man was still in the tree, though some way below, and by pointing and gesticulations they directed him where to go to find us. So he came panting up again, the thinner branches swaying and rustling beneath his weight. After a very few moments his head appeared in the greenery below. He was of a different type from the others, taller, black-haired, and sallow-faced. It did not take him many seconds to see us, and he quickly pulled himself up towards us.
With his eyes fixed on mother, he came rapidly upwards. Mother crouched where she was on a small branch, very close to the extreme summit of the tree, watching our enemy’s every movement. By a lucky chance the main stem hid us three youngsters from his sight. I think that father and mother must have purposely placed themselves on the other side from us with the express object of drawing the boy’s attention away from their helpless babies.
When he drew near he paused, and pulling a red cotton handkerchief from his pocket, deliberately wrapped it round one hand. Then, getting a good grip with the other, he edged outwards and made a sudden rapid grasp at mother. My heart almost stopped as I saw the great hand extended. But quick as he was, no human can hope to rival the lightning action of a squirrel’s muscles, and before the grasping hand touched her the little lithe red body flew into the air as though driven by a spring, and, flashing downwards, landed fully twenty feet below, and disappeared into the thickest part of the tree.
With a violent exclamation the tormentor turned his attention to father, who was only a foot or two further away, and crouching on the extreme outer end of a bough. Evidently he intended to make sure of him, for he worked himself round so as to get between father and the tree, and managed it so well that he seemed to me to have cut off all chance of escape. I think he must have actually touched father’s tail, when the most unexpected thing happened. Instead of jumping outwards, which, as the bough tip projected a good way, would in all probability have ended in a fall to the ground, into the very hands of the three watchers below, father leaped straight towards the boy, landing actually on his shoulder. This startled him so much that he very nearly let go altogether, and if I had not been in such a panic I could have laughed at his fright. Then, before the boy could recover himself, another quick bound, and father was out on another branch, ten feet away, quite out of reach of his would-be captor.
FATHER LEAPED STRAIGHT TOWARDS THE BOY LANDING ACTUALLY ON HIS SHOULDER
A torrent of language worse than any magpie’s burst from the fellow’s lips, as he turned and scrambled after father again. He might as well have tried to catch a will-o’-the-wisp. Every time he got near enough to make a snatch, father would make another nimble jump, all the time artfully luring his pursuer lower down the tree and away from our hiding-place.
The game went on for a good ten minutes, and by the end of that time the enemy was dripping with perspiration and speechless with fury. His rage was increased by the jeers of his friends below. At last he gave it up, having made up his mind it was not much of a game to be made a fool of by a squirrel and mocked by the onlookers.
He dropped quickly from bough to bough, and presently I heard his heavy boots thud on the ground. But before he had reached the foot of the tree, both our parents were back with us. Then the sound of loud wrangling came up to us. Surely now they would go; but no! we were not safe yet.
There was further talk, and then the whole four spread out in a circle round the fir-tree. Presently, with a loud whizzing sound, some heavy object came hurtling up past us. It struck a twig near the summit of the tree and clipped it like a bullet. Thud! Another struck the main stem just below us with a force that sent the bark flying in a shower. Then we saw what those lead-weighted canes were for.
A third squailer passed only a few inches above father’s head. He called to mother:
‘They’ll kill us if we stop here. Come along; take Hazel and follow me.’
In an instant he had snatched me up and was scuttling down the trunk. It was wonderful how exactly he knew which branch-end stretched furthest towards the spruce which was our next neighbour. Out along it he ran, and using the natural spring of the bough to help him, made a gallant leap outwards and downwards, legs and tail wide spread to assist him in his flight.
The air hissed past my ears, and then with a little thud we landed safely in the spruce. But his gallant jump had been seen by those greedy eyes, and excited shouts came from below.
Then—ah, even now I can hardly bear to speak of it! As father was in the very act of running up the branch towards the thick centre of the tree and comparative safety, there came a cruel thud, and he and I together were whirling through the air.
Crash! we came to the ground with a shock that knocked my small senses out of me, and before I could pick myself up a hard hand had closed over me. I turned and, with the instinct of despair, fixed my teeth deep in a horny finger. There was a yell, and I was again flung to the ground with a force that almost killed me. I knew no more for many minutes, and when I woke again to stunned and aching misery, I was lying helpless in a sort of bag, which smelt horribly of something which I now know to have been tobacco. The bag was being shaken up and down with a steady swing; but I, almost beside myself with pain and flight, did not attempt to move or free myself.
Suddenly the motion stopped abruptly, and the hand was poked cautiously into the bag. It was carefully protected this time by a handkerchief, but I had no longer spirit left to bite. Out I was pulled and held up before the gaze of all the four robbers, who were seated at ease on a mossy bank on the outer side of the hedge close by the gate of our coppice. The very first thing that my eyes fell upon was the body of my poor father lying limp upon the bank, his white waistcoat dabbled with crimson stains and his brilliant black eyes closed in death. I felt a cold shiver run through me, and the stupor of despair clutched my beating heart. I hardly even had strength left to wonder what had become of my dear mother and my brother and sister.
They passed me from one coarse hot hand to another, and their voices grew louder and louder as they disputed who should have possession of me.
They then went on to blows, when suddenly the quarrel was brought to an abrupt end in a most startling fashion.
Leaping over the hedge out of the coppice behind came two tall, smart-looking boys, a startling contrast to the four loutish hobbledehoys around poor little me.
One of them, pointing at me, demanded in a ringing voice where they had got me from.
Three of the four cads stood sheepishly regarding the new-comers, and said never a word; but the one who had climbed the tree faced them boldly enough, answering impudently.
The new-comer strode up to him. He was evidently master here, and the others were trespassing, and they knew it, for they slunk back. Yet, in reply to his reiterated commands, the lout who was boldest snatched me up and refused to part with me. He was so big and strong that he seemed a giant, and I felt I should die there and then. I closed my eyes and gave myself up, but in a minute I was down on the bank once more, and the two—the new-comer and the great rough fellow—were fighting hard, with coats off and red faces.
The sound of the blows that followed, the tramping of feet, the hard breathing of the combatants, nearly deprived me of the few senses that remained to me, and I noticed little of the details of the fight—only it seemed to last a long time, and once I saw the schoolboy flat on his back. But he was up almost as soon as down, and they were at it again hammer and tongs.
The giant made a rush head down, like a bull, but the other jumped back, and there followed a rattle of blows as my champion’s fists got home on the lout’s hard head. But the squire’s son did not wholly escape. The huge fist that had grasped me so roughly caught him on the right cheek and drove him back.
One of my champion’s eyes was closing, his right cheek was turning livid, and there was blood on his broad white collar when they faced one another again. But the ruffian for his part, though not so badly marked, was breathing like a fat pug dog and seemed unsteady on his legs. To do the fellow justice, he had pluck, for he wasted no time in making a last attempt to rush his opponent. For a few moments it was all that the other could do to guard his head against the swinging fists. Then—it was all so quick that one could hardly see what happened—there was a crack like the sound two rams make when they charge one another, and the giant tottered for a moment, his arms waving wildly, then fell like a log and lay quite still.
The other new-comer counted loud and slowly ‘One—two—three—four’—up to ten. But the fellow on the ground did not move.
‘That’s the finish,’ he said.
He turned to where I lay, with hardly a breath in me, a little limp body, and picking me up, handled me tenderly.
Terrified as I was, the change was grateful to my miserable, aching little body. He offered me to the victor in the fight, who had by this time got into his coat again, but he declined.
‘Put him in your pocket, Harry,’ he said to his brother. ‘My hands are too hot to hold him.’
He was quite right. Let me here give a word of advice to all those humans who keep any of my race as pets. Don’t hold us in your hands. In the first place, it frightens us desperately, and in the second, it is bad for us. A squirrel rarely lives long in captivity if he is constantly handled. I speak from experience, and I can assure you that, much as I grew to love my dear master and my other human friends, I was never happy in their hands, though I never minded being kept in their pockets.
Harry put me carefully in the inside pocket of his jacket. It was dark and warm, and, utterly exhausted, I curled up and lay quiet, and so I was carried away and left the home of my babyhood. It was long before I saw it again.
