Fun on the Milldam
There was something about the dam across Swift River that Frisky Squirrel simply couldn't keep away from--after he had forgotten, somewhat, his fright at the gristmill. Only a few days passed after Frisky had run home from the mill in a panic, before he was back again. He liked to run across the top of the dam and look down at his reflection in the water on one side. Here and there a narrow stream spilled over the top of the dam. Frisky felt very brave as he leaped over those little rivulets. And he loved to watch them as they fell in thin, silvery cascades upon the rocks far below. It was great sport.
One day when Frisky reached the dam he heard a dog bark not far away. It was the miller's dog. He had seen Frisky as he crossed the road. And he at once hurried toward him.
Frisky Squirrel was annoyed. He had just been thinking what a good time he was going to have. But when that dog started to bark Frisky knew that his fun was spoiled. He wasn't frightened. Oh, no! But he was sure that the dog would not go away until he did.
"Well, I'll just take one run across the dam," Frisky said to himself. "I'll stay on the other side of the river until he grows tired of waiting. And then I'll come back."
He hurried on to the bank of the river; and in a few moments he was skipping along the dam. The dog was still barking. And Frisky looked around at him. To his great surprise, there was the dog following him, right along the top of the dam. But even then Frisky was not frightened. He simply hurried a little faster. He had not dreamed that the miller's dog would chase him across Swift River. But there he was. And he was running fast, too.
Then something happened that really frightened Frisky Squirrel. At first he could hardly believe it. But it was true. It really was another dog that was barking--another dog that was waiting on the other side of Swift River. And almost as soon as Frisky saw him, that other dog started right across the dam, to meet Frisky!
There was no time to lose. Frisky had to make up his mind very quickly. He gave just one look at the deep mill pond. He could swim--if he had to. But he just hated to get wet. And he knew that the dogs were much faster swimmers than he was. So he looked away from the water with a shudder. And he peeped over the steep side of the dam and gazed at the rocks below, where the water splashed into countless drops.
Those rocks were a long way beneath him. But there was one thing about Frisky Squirrel--he never was the least bit dizzy, or afraid, when he looked down from high places. Perhaps there were too many other things to be afraid of--such as coons and foxes--and dogs.
The miller's dog was drawing nearer now, because Frisky had stopped. And the dog from the other side of the river was only about six jumps away!
Frisky Squirrel didn't wait another instant. He jumped right down the face of the dam. Where he had stood a moment before the two dogs came together with a bump. Probably they would have started to fight, if they had not been so interested in Frisky Squirrel. There they stood, with their necks stretched out over the edge of the dam, watching Frisky as he went rolling and tumbling down to the bed of the river. And when they saw him pick himself up and go skipping from stone to stone until he reached the shore and scampered away, they looked very foolish indeed.
In fact, they felt foolish, too. And without saying one word they turned about and each crept back to his own side of Swift River.