The Tale of Frisky Squirrel | Page 4

curling from the red chimney.
And though he did not know it, that meant that it was baking-day, and
Farmer Green's wife was just as busy as she could be, making good
things for her hungry family.
When Frisky Squirrel reached the farmhouse he found the kitchen
window wide open. And after making sure that there was no one inside
the room, he stole in and jumped up on a shelf where there was a row
of dishes with all sorts of tempting things on them.
To Frisky's joy, he found a whole cake exactly like the bit he had
discovered in the woods. And he ate all he wanted; there seemed to be
no reason why he shouldn't, there was so much of it.
And then a door slammed somewhere. The noise startled Frisky
Squirrel and he fell right off the shelf, backwards, and landed plump in
the flour-barrel.
He was nearly smothered. And he was frightened, too. But he managed
to scramble out again. And you should have seen the white streak that
went shooting across the kitchen floor, out the door, and away. It was
Frisky Squirrel, of course, covered with flour. He never stopped
running until he was half-way home. And then he climbed a tree and
sat down to lick himself clean again. To his astonishment, he found that
the white powder that covered him tasted very good. It reminded him
of wheat. And that is not surprising, since the flour was made of wheat
which Farmer Green had grown in his own fields, and which had been
ground into flour by the miller who lived further up Swift River.
Though the flour tasted good, Frisky did not like it as well as the cake.
He wished he had been covered with that sweet, snowlike frosting.
[Illustration: "The Picnic"]

V
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