Some Lively Dodging
Frisky Squirrel was having his usual fun, leaping through the tree-tops. He went skipping and scrambling among the boughs as if a hundred jays were after him. But they were only make-believe enemies. And after a while Frisky grew tired of playing all alone. He wished he could find Jasper Jay again. He would have liked to tease the rude fellow, until Jasper chased him.
As Frisky paused for a moment to catch his breath he heard a long-drawn, squealing whistle, somewhat like the sound of escaping steam.
"There's Jasper Jay right now!" he exclaimed. "And he's trying to make people think he's a red-tailed hawk. But he can't fool me that way. I'll just go and find him. And then maybe I won't tease him!"
Frisky started toward the place where he had heard that whistle. He called to Jasper Jay; but there was no answer. Nor did he hear the whistle again. He hunted all around; but no Jasper Jay could he find. And he was just going to give up the search when there was a sudden rush through the air.
Frisky dodged just in time; and a big body, grayish-brown, with a rusty-red tail, went tearing past him. He had been mistaken. It wasn't Jasper Jay he had heard whistling, but this fierce red-tailed hawk. Here was even more fun than Frisky had hoped for!
As soon as Mr. Hawk could stop his swift flight he turned and came back again. And there followed the liveliest sort of dodging for Frisky Squirrel. It was well for him that he had had plenty of practice all the spring, or I am afraid he would never have escaped.
He was not afraid. And now and then he laughed at Mr. Hawk. And now and then he shouted "Robber!" at him, and "Thief!" And he asked him how many of Farmer Green's chickens he had stolen lately.
But Mr. Hawk never once answered--except to whistle sometimes as he went sailing past. He paid strict attention to what he was doing. And he seemed to have no idea of stopping until he got Frisky Squirrel in his claws.
After a while Frisky began to tire of the sport. But not Mr. Hawk! He kept flying back and forth, back and forth, past Frisky. And his cruel eyes glared terribly every time he came near.
"You'd better go along home," Frisky called to him. "You can never catch me, if you try till snow flies."
Mr. Hawk lighted on a near-by tree and looked at Frisky. Frisky was a plump little squirrel and Mr. Hawk hated to give him up. But as he thought the matter over he seemed to decide that Frisky was a little too spry for him. And with one more whistle he mounted up above the trees and sailed calmly away.
Frisky Squirrel went home then; and he told his mother what sport he had had, and how Mr. Hawk had at last flown away in despair. "I hope he'll come back again to-morrow," said Frisky.
But Mrs. Squirrel shook her head. She wished that Frisky was less daring.