Tiny Redsquirrel

The
SQUIRREL’S
PILGRIM’S PROGRESS

A Book for Boys and Girls

BY
J. D. WILLIAMS

Setting Forth the Adventures of Tiny Red Squirrel and Chatty Chipmunk

And describing Miss Hare’s School; Red Squirrel, Chipmunk, Reynard Fox, Pussy Cat, and Other Students, as well as Mr. Wise Owl, a Director of the School, and Billy Beaver, the Janitor.

FIFTY ILLUSTRATIONS BY H. WOOD
(FIVE COLORED PLATES)

CHICAGO
LAIRD & LEE, Inc., PUBLISHERS

COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY LAIRD & LEE, Inc.

And Nature, the old nurse, took

The child upon her knee.

Saying, “Here is a story-book

Thy father has written for thee.”

—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

Once on a time a little boy was taken from the noise and bustle of city life to a sparsely settled land where a great forest stretched away in every direction. To this land his parents came to make a home in the heart of the deep wood. A large log house had been built in an open space from which great oaks, beeches, maples and other trees had been removed, and here, surrounded by nature’s forms and activities, they lived many years.

What a delightful experience this was to this little boy! How wonderful this new world seemed to him! Here were flowers of every hue, bees, birds, butterflies, and many other interesting things to excite his childish wonder. He soon learned the names of the shrubs, the trees, the wild fruits and the flowers; and the habits of the honey gatherers, the feathered folk, and the little animals of the wood.

This story has its foundation in these experiences and was written in the hope that it will prove interesting and instructive to many children. It teaches its young readers to see material things as they really are, so that the early impressions shall always be the true ones; it teaches them to apply the same habit of careful observation to language forms and constructions, so they shall know how thoughts must be expressed, and more than that, how they may be expressed beautifully. It is believed that it will influence them to observe nature’s works closely—the beauty in the dense foliage of spring, in the myriad forms of life, in nest building and bird music, in the vitality of growth, in the sweet beneficence of the universal mother, so that they may come to know

“There are tongues in trees,

Books in the running brooks,

Sermons in stones,

And good in everything.”

Acknowledgments are due to Wilber Hershel Williams for assistance in the preparation of this volume; to Frances Squire Potter, James S. Greenwood, and Z. C. Spencer for literary criticism and helpful suggestions.

J. D. W.

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

SQUIRRELTOWN.

Tiny Redsquirrel

CHAPTER I.

Have you ever heard of Squirreltown? It is a town of quaint homes in the woods, in which little animals live together as contentedly as though they were human beings. The whole town is roofed over by leafy bowers, and carpeted with wild flowers. All day long butterflies flit about in the shimmering sunlight, and by night thousands of fairies come out to dance in the pale moonlight.

In this town there once dwelt a young red squirrel named Tiny. He lived with his mother near the top of an oak tree. Mrs. Redsquirrel was a poor but industrious widow. Although red squirrels are said to be the most mischievous animals of the forest, she had taught Tiny to conduct himself in a proper way. In fact, he was much better behaved than Chatty Chipmunk, who lived in the ground at the foot of the tree.

One morning early in the autumn, while the weather was yet warm, Tiny’s mother said to him, “You must bestir yourself, Tiny! Now is the time to gather acorns, seeds, and other food for the winter.”

As he sat sipping water from a hollow acorn, he observed how anxiously his mother gazed at him. “Why do you look so sad?” he asked.

“I am getting too old to work,” she answered, and she wiped the tears from her black eyes. Then abruptly she turned to look through the window. It was a small hole covered with a silken curtain that had been woven by a spider.

“Please don’t cry, mother,” implored Tiny. He put down his acorn, went over to his mother and drew her down upon a little couch made of moss. “I am willing to work hard to support you. Perhaps some day I shall become great. Who can tell?”

“But I want you to have a fine education,” said his mother, looking with pride at her son, “and we have no good schools!”

“Perhaps a fairy may find me a good school. I can work to pay my way!” cheerfully suggested Tiny. “I have heard that those who do this make the best students.” He fanned his mother with a small peacock feather. He thought that she might drop into a doze, for he knew that she had not been sleeping much of late, but just then a persistent rapping at the tree began.

“It must be Mr. Woodpecker,” said Mrs. Redsquirrel with a sigh. “Every day he comes over to rap this tree. The noise makes my head ache.”

“Please sit still. I’ll go outside to see what he wants,” said Tiny, hastening from the room.

“Hello!” he cried lustily.

Mr. Woodpecker did not answer. He was digging his long, straight, pointed beak into the bark of the tree. His stiff tail was spread out to prop his body, for woodpeckers would not be such good climbers if they had no tails. He was black and white, and wore a jaunty scarlet cap.

“Sir,” said Tiny, “You annoy my mother. Furthermore, Mr. Graysquirrel, who owns this tree, will make you pay dearly for all the damage you are doing to his property.”

“Ha, ha!” laughed Mr. Woodpecker, turning his head to one side and looking down at the squirrel. “I am not destroying property. I am digging into the bark to find insects. Mr. Graysquirrel, your landlord, told me that I might have all I could find. He said it was they who greatly annoy his tenants. Pardon me for disturbing your mother.”

“GO AWAY AND DO NOT COME BACK AGAIN,” COMMANDED TINY.

“Go away! and do not come back again,” commanded Tiny, vexed at the bird’s display of good humor. “Hush, Tiny!” called Mrs. Redsquirrel, thrusting her dainty nose through the window. “I am glad that Mr. Woodpecker is so kind as to destroy those horrid insects. I thought at first that he was tapping the tree because he wished to trouble me. We animals are always ready to imagine disagreeable things.”

Tiny came back into the house and to cover his chagrin began to get the storeroom in order.

His mother gathered up the nut-shell cups and placed them in a hollow gourd. As they worked she talked. “Mr. Woodpecker is a clever creature,” she said. “I never before saw a bird that could use his bill with such ease and swiftness.”

Tiny did not reply. He was thinking very hard, and the idea that he was going to support his mother made him feel very important.

“Woodpeckers do a great deal of good by destroying grubs and insects,” his mother went on. “I have heard that in a far-away land there lives one kind that feeds chiefly on acorns, and stores them away for the winter as squirrels do. They make small holes in the soft bark of dead trees and place the acorns in these holes by pounding them with their bills.”

“Now I am ready to start,” interrupted Tiny. “Perhaps I can get Chatty Chipmunk to go with me.”

“If you do, don’t let him lead you into bad company!” warned Mrs. Redsquirrel. “He is very mischievous. He causes his parents much trouble.”

At that moment Peggy and Bushy Graysquirrel came running into the room, without stopping to knock at the door.

“Good morning, Mrs. Redsquirrel,” said Peggy.

“We are going over to the Beech Hotel to spend the day with the Blacksquirrel family,” said Bushy, too much excited to draw a long breath. “Come along with us, Tiny. We will play ripple.”

“What is ripple?” asked Mrs. Redsquirrel.

“Oh, it is a fine game!” exclaimed Peggy. “All the squirrels get out on the bough of a tree. Each one throws a nut or a pebble into the brook, and the one that makes the biggest circle gets the prize.”

“Do you want to go, Tiny?” asked his mother.

“No, mother,” said Tiny bravely. “I like to play ripple, but I must gather our winter store before the cold rains begin.”

“Please come with us,” coaxed pretty Bushy, flashing her dark eyes straight into his own.

“I cannot go,” he declared stolidly, turning his back upon her.

“Is he really going to work?” asked Bushy, looking from one to the other in a bewildered way.

“Yes, I am going,” replied Tiny, and he took down his hunting bag from the wall.

Another moment a little red squirrel ran down the tree and was lost to view.

CHAPTER II.

Tiny went to the home of Chatty Chipmunk. The Chipmunks do not like the trees or the air or the sunshine as the Redsquirrel family do. Like most animals of their kind, they live in the ground.

Tiny entered the door and passed through a hall several feet in length. At the further end of the hall was a small opening which led to a room but little larger than the shell of a cocoanut. Chatty was alone, fast asleep.

“HOW CAN YOU SLEEP ON A BEAUTIFUL DAY LIKE THIS?”

“How can you sleep on a beautiful day like this!” cried Tiny, playfully pulling Chatty’s whiskers.

“I was only taking a nap,” sleepily responded Chatty. “My parents and brothers are out in the beech trees. I wanted to have a good rest, so I stayed at home. I cannot sleep well at night, because our house is crowded.”

“I am going out to gather our winter store,” said Tiny. “Don’t you want to come with me?”

“I should very much like to go, thank you,” returned Chatty, although he had refused to go with his family. “But you see, I cannot work hard when I work, though I can work hard when I play.”

They soon left the chipmunk home and started forth on their journey. They had not gone very far before Chatty began to complain.

“The sun is very warm, and it makes me drowsy,” said he. “How I do dislike to work! I am glad that I am not a beaver, for beavers work all the time.”

“I should think you would wish to help your family,” said Tiny. “What will become of you in the winter if you do not have plenty of food?”

“I will sleep all the time,” replied the chipmunk, yawning drowsily.

He was about to lie down to rest, when he espied a great yellow butterfly with wings that shone like gold. She was fast asleep upon a thistle.

Chatty dashed after her, but she flew from thistle to bush and flower, not at all frightened. After he had tired himself running, he sat down, panting.

“Your winter store will soon be gathered if you spend as much energy in working as you have in running,” said Tiny, his eyes twinkling.

“It is great sport to chase butterflies,” said Chatty. “They are such stupid creatures, yet they are very pretty. Who ever heard of sleeping on a thistle?”

“I think it would be much more comfortable than to sleep in a hole in the ground,” replied Tiny. “Mother said that butterflies always seem to match the seasons.” Tiny, without knowing it, began to imitate his mother’s voice and her way of talking. He spoke more slowly than she did, however, for he was trying hard to remember all she had told him about the pretty things. “When the world is still brown and bleak and the spring sun is beginning to warm things into life, the brown and black butterflies come. Then, when the violets spread carpets over the vales and in the woodlands, the blue butterflies appear. In summer come the queenly swallow-tail butterflies, clad in red, copper, and burnished silver. Often one dressed in pure white may be seen, for white is very comfortable to wear in warm weather. It reflects the hot rays of the sun. In the autumn the yellow and orange butterflies are more numerous. They are the color of the goldenrod and the sunflowers and the brown-eyed Susans. The yellow butterflies like to sip the honey from the yellow flowers, but the white butterflies seem to prefer the white clover. They are the most beautiful of all insects. Their four wings are colored on both sides. When they rest, their wings stand straight up and do not fold.”

“Butterflies are very queer animals,” said Chatty ungraciously. He was vexed with butterflies, because he knew so little about them. “Why do they sleep with their wings held high above their heads? I should think they would get so sound asleep that they would forget to hold them up.”

“It is natural for them to hold up their wings,” laughed Tiny. “Do you forget to breathe when you are sound asleep?”

“Of course not,” retorted Chatty, “nor do I forget to eat when I am hungry. However, I cannot see why the butterfly sleeps in such a silly position.”

“Some of them slowly open and shut their wings all the time they are asleep,” explained Tiny. “I never knew another creature that sleeps so gracefully as the butterfly does. I would rather take a nap on a thistle in the sunshine than roll up in a fluffy ball and sleep in a dark hole in the ground. You must not criticise those whose customs are different from yours. Perhaps the butterfly is quite as much amused at you.”

“There she goes again!” cried Chatty, suddenly. “I wish I were a flying-squirrel, that I might catch her. Wait a moment until I frighten her again.”

Chatty began to chase the butterfly once more. He was accustomed to running without looking where he was going, so he did not see the danger that awaited him.

SPLASH! CHATTY FELL INTO THE CREEK AND DISAPPEARED FROM SIGHT.

Splash! Chatty fell into the creek and disappeared from sight. The butterfly flew safely across the stream.

Tiny was not alarmed, for he knew that his companion could swim. Soon the chipmunk’s little nose appeared above the water. After a great deal of splashing, he reached the bank of the stream, very much chagrined.

“I think I must have been more scared than the butterfly was,” he admitted, as he shook his fur. “I am as tired as I can be and as wet as a fish. Where is the butterfly?”

“Over on yonder blue-flag, fast asleep,” said Tiny.

CHAPTER III.

Chatty smiled foolishly and Tiny laughed heartily. The butterfly rested a long time. Then she flew away. The birds chattered gayly as the sun smiled brightly. The brook gurgled with glee and flowed merrily on. The chipmunk seemed wide awake after his drenching. For a half hour he scurried briskly along.

“Not far away some fine blackberries grow on low bushes,” he said. “We will find them and feast until dusk. When we become sleepy we will nap for a while.”

“We have wandered from our path,” protested Tiny. “We are lost!”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed Chatty. “Someone will show us the way home. Squirreltown is the greatest city in the world.”

“Do you remember those hunters who passed through Squirreltown not long ago?” asked Tiny. “They said that London is the largest city in the world. The East contains many great cities.”

“You are dreaming,” laughed the chipmunk. “I have heard of every large city. Squirreltown has the most inhabitants, and Gray Fox Center comes next. How many squirrels live in London?”

“London is filled with people, not with squirrels. Those hunters that frightened us the other day are people. They live in houses,” explained Tiny.

“How I should dislike London!” cried Chatty. “Do all people look as fierce as those hunters? I thought that hunters dwelt in holes in the ground. I supposed that they played in the trees and wandered about with huge guns and frightened little animals for amusement. I imagine that people must look very much like bears.”

“Many of them do,” assented Tiny with a wise nod. “However, they do not walk on four legs, but straight up like storks. We must roam no farther. Let us gather these beech nuts and collect them in little heaps.”

“No, indeed,” said his companion, as he rose from his couch. “I want some blackberries.”

“O Chatty, an odd-looking animal comes from the trunk of that hollow tree. It is a bear!” cried Tiny.

“Oh!” gasped Chatty. His eyes opened wide with fear and surprise. “We must hide.”

For a moment they gazed at the stranger who stood before them. He sniffed the grass that grew around a stump, but watched them steadily. The little foragers remained quite still and struggled for courage.

THE LITTLE FORAGERS REMAINED QUITE STILL AND STRUGGLED FOR COURAGE.

“Be calm,” said the queer creature in a friendly voice. “I am hunting for something green and tender. Fear not, for I never attack such small creatures as you.”

“What are you, sir?” asked Tiny, remembering his mother’s instructions to speak courteously.

“I am a raccoon and I live in that hollow tree,” said the animal. “I once dwelt in a village which lies a hundred miles away. Leachburg is its name. The inhabitants called me Brother Raccoon. My given name is Sambo, my wife’s name is Serena, and we named our sons Simon and Solomon. Formerly I was a pet in a family of people. While with them I learned a number of pretty names for children, as well as many other things.”

“Tell us something about people,” requested Tiny, drawing nearer. At last he stood face to face with the raccoon.

“People live a long time if they take good care of their health,” began Brother Raccoon. “The baby of this family was four years of age.”

Tiny and Chatty laughed outright. The speaker smiled good-naturedly.

“He was surely a backward baby,” chuckled Chatty. “The mayor of Squirreltown is four years of age and he is very old.”

“Little people are generally happy,” continued the raccoon. “They have everything their hearts desire. I wish that my little ones had such good fortune. Alas! we watch Simon and Solomon all the time. They seldom go out of the house except after night. Little people stay indoors all night, but little raccoons do not.”

“What lovely times little raccoons must have!” cried Chatty. “If I were one of them I would run about all night, especially when it is moonlight. Mother sends me to bed before sunset.”

“No one has more anxiety than a raccoon,” declared the stranger. He blinked his eyes, which were black and shiny. There were white rings around them. “Our midnight prowls often cause us great trouble. Sometimes the raccoons go into the cornfields. While they are eating corn, a pack of dogs appears and drives them back to the woods. Before the poor raccoons can hide, the men with their guns attack them.”

“You should not steal the farmer’s corn,” reproved Tiny. “Thieves deserve punishment.”

“Yes, but the farmer does not treat us right,” replied the raccoon bitterly. “He steals our fur and eats our flesh. He deceives us and slays us. He does all sorts of mean things.”

“I am sorry for you,” said Tiny. “Why should little animals of the forest suffer from the acts of mankind? Are you never safe from harm?”

“No,” continued the raccoon. “Our flesh and fur are so fine that these terrible people hunt for us by day and by night. One evening I was in a field of corn which was green and tempting. A party of noisy creatures called boys came to the field. They chased me back into the forest. I was so little that I stumbled and fell. A dog caught me. Before he could hurt me, a small boy seized me and carried me in a bag to his home. He placed me in a cage.

“The boy’s name was Teddy Root. He greatly admired my dainty feet and grayish-brown fur. I became so tame that they gave me much freedom. I soon lost my fear of people. Sometimes they scolded me, because I stole into the pantry and helped myself to milk, sugar, lard, and butter. I did not know that I had done wrong. Teddy took cookies from the pantry without first asking his mother’s permission, so I thought I could do so, too. However, I yearned for my home in the deep forest. One day I ran away.

“I wandered a long time before I found the stump that had sheltered me during my early days. My family had departed. I was alone, but I made the old house comfortable, and soon forgot my troubles. I preferred a stump to a gilded cage. One night a party of raccoons went out on an excursion to a cornfield. They took me with them. It was then that I met my mate, Serena. Life is happier now than it ever has been before.”

“We thank you for the story of your life,” said Tiny. “Now show us the way to Squirreltown.”

“I have never heard of such a place,” replied the raccoon, after he had thought hard for a few moments.

“It is the largest city in the world and it is a very important one, too,” snapped Chatty. He was vexed at the stranger’s ignorance.

“You are wrong,” said the raccoon as he shook his head doubtfully. “I know that Coontown is much larger. You must ask some other animal to show you the way.”

“Thank you,” said Tiny. He never forgot the value of politeness, although Chatty often did. “We must hasten home.”

“Oh, why did you speak about those blackberries?” he continued, as he turned to Chatty. “We have lost our way. I fear dear mother grieves for me.”

“It was no fault of mine that Mr. Raccoon stopped us to tell the stupid story of his life,” retorted Chatty. “See the acorns under the tree. Some kind fairy knew that we were coming and threw them down.”

Chatty ate greedily, while Tiny swiftly climbed to the top of a huge oak tree and gazed all about him. Nowhere could he see the friendly treetops of Squirreltown.

CHAPTER IV.

Tiny sat for a long time in the top of the tree and looked away as far as his eyes could see. In the distance rose the big yellow moon. It shone brightly upon the treetops of the great forest, yet he could not see Squirreltown.

At last he began to descend slowly, almost frightening to death a tree toad that was hopping about on its little velvet toes among the green branches.

TINY’S BUSHY TAIL STIFFENED WITH FRIGHT.

Tiny’s bushy tail stiffened with fright when he heard a loud, whirring sound and a shrill cry from the branch over his head. Two big yellow eyes glared at him through the dense foliage. They scared him so that he could not scamper away.

“Hoot! hoot!” cried the dreadful creature. “Why are you prowling around my castle at this time of night? Don’t you know that I am a horned owl? I like to eat rabbits, squirrels, and mice.”

“I did not mean to disturb you, sir,” said Tiny politely, although his teeth chattered and his limbs refused to move. “My name is Tiny Redsquirrel. I have lost my way. Can you tell me where to find Squirreltown?”

“I wish I knew where it is,” said the owl, “for it wouldn’t take me long to put an end to it. Come closer that we may have a little chat. I like squirrels.”

“Mr. Owl, I know that it would not be prudent for me to get closer to you,” said Tiny, without moving a step. “I want everyone to like me, but I do not want them to like me well enough to eat me.”

“Well spoken!” cried the owl, clapping his wings and screeching loudly. “A fairy told me, Tiny, that you were coming to my castle. I promised her that I would not hurt you. Tell me what gift you desire above all things else.”

“A good education,” replied Tiny promptly.

“Fine!” exclaimed the owl. “Of course, squirrels cannot expect to know very much. Red squirrels are too mischievous to learn a great deal. They worry robins in their nests, frighten field mice, steal from the farmer’s granary, and spring the traps that hunters set for martens. Can you tell me who is the wisest of all living creatures?”

“I think it must be the donkey,” said Tiny after hesitating a few moments.

“The donkey is as stupid as a stump,” said the owl impatiently. “What makes you think that the donkey is the wisest of all creatures?”

“An animal that makes so much noise must be very wise,” answered the innocent squirrel.

“When you are older, you will learn that the wisest creatures seldom make any noise at all,” said the owl with a sage toss of his head. “The donkey is most unlike the animal that represents wisdom, and he—”

“Perhaps the wisest animal is the loon,” interrupted the squirrel.

Tiny had never heard the expression “crazy as a loon,” or he would not have made such an absurd guess.

The owl laughed again. “Poor little squirrel,” he continued, “you are much in need of an education, and I will help you to realize your wish. An old loon lives two hundred yards from here in some dry muck on the ruins of an old muskrat house. Whenever she tries to avoid danger, she always runs the wrong way and jumps into it. Her legs are placed so far back beneath her body that she cannot walk very long at a time without toppling over. When she swims, she makes more noise than a family of beavers. She screeches all the time, and consequently gets no opportunity to think. You know that to be wise one must be a quiet thinker. No, the loon is as dull as the donkey.”

“Then who is the wisest of all creatures?” asked Tiny, growing more and more interested.

“Have you never heard that the owl is the symbol of wisdom?” asked the curious creature. “There is nothing I do not know.”

“Then perhaps you can tell me where Squirreltown is situated,” said Tiny, eagerly.

“I do not know,” replied the owl, glaring at Tiny until he again lost courage. “I do not fill my mind with useless knowledge, since there are so many important things to know. How ridiculous of you to ask me such a question! You might just as well ask why the moon, although not so large as a pumpkin, can light up this great world of ours. There are many things that learned students cannot explain so ordinary creatures can understand. I believe, however, that if you live long enough and keep traveling all the time, you may find Squirreltown one of these days.”

“This is no time for jesting,” burst forth Tiny, his heart sinking. “I greatly desire to get home. I started out to gather our winter store in this hunting-bag, but I got lost. Mother must be quite tired looking for me.”

“Your mother need not wear her eyes out looking for you, since you are surely old enough to see for yourself,” retorted the owl.

Tiny said that he must hasten on.

“Do not be in a hurry, my restless quadruped,” said the owl. “Squirrels are always in a hurry. You are very nervous animals. It makes me dizzy to look at you. I am the wisest creature of the forest, yet you do not choose to tarry long enough to get some useful information. Do you still desire an education, or have you changed your mind?”

“I want to get home,” sobbed Tiny.

“I will see that your wish is granted,” said the owl, more kindly. “What else do you wish?”

“I wish to grow up to be a useful squirrel. I want to make my mother and everybody else happy.”

The owl asked him what more he desired.

“That is all,” was the reply.

“Then do as I say,” commanded the owl. “Before you can become truly wise, you must learn the lessons of patience and industry, and, as you struggle, you must sing the song of contentment. I am a wise prophet, and I will see that your wishes are fulfilled.

“To-night you must sleep out in one of those hazel bushes. Be sure to hide yourself, for sometimes I fly about while asleep. In that case perhaps I might eat you without knowing it. To-morrow at dawn, follow the path that leads to the brook. Then turn to your right. If you should turn to your left, you would soon find yourself in Big Bear City. Keep your eyes wide open, and when you least expect it, you will be taught the lesson of patience.

“Follow the footpath till you come to a lovely dell, where a fairy princess will teach you the lesson of industry and the value of doing good to others. She probably can show you the way to Squirreltown, for she knows all about geography. But, ere you reach home, you will have two dreadful encounters. A four-legged giant with hundreds of darts will rush upon you when you least expect it. Do not be frightened. Be calm and cautious. Lie close to the ground so that his darts will pass above you, should he throw them at you. Seize one of his darts, jab him; he will then run away.

“Soon you will find yourself in the heart of a jungle that almost all tame beasts fear to enter. Another giant, a big black one, will try to hurt you. However, you will be protected. Do as I command, or you will never get back home.”

“Thank you, Mr. Owl,” said Tiny, willing to endure any hardship if he could only see his mother again. “Should you come to Squirreltown, the Mayor will tell you where to find me. He is stopping at the Beech Tree Inn.”

“What kind of stops does he use?” asked the owl, much amused.

Tiny stared at him in wonderment.

“I suppose you mean that he is staying at the Beech Tree Inn,” said the owl. “I hope you have enjoyed your visit in my castle. If you will stay a while longer I will sing. I have a most beautiful voice. I can sing twice as loud as a village of sparrows.”

The little red squirrel did not insist upon hearing the owl prophet sing, for that would have been bad manners.

With a polite goodnight, he scurried down the tree to a clump of hazel bushes, where he hid himself as securely as possible. He slept very little, for he feared that the wise owl might fly about in his sleep and possibly devour him.

CHAPTER V.

The sunbeams shine through the boughs of the trees and the winds rustle gently. The dewdrops glitter on the grass. The brook bounds joyously along. The birds sing gaily and the little animals of the wood come forth to listen to the sweet music. The wild flowers open their pretty cups.

Now the forest is ringing with glad shouts and songs. The sunbeams are growing brighter. The winds are dying down and the dewdrops are passing away. The brook is bounding along more joyously. The birds are singing more gaily. The little animals are running hither and thither. The flowers are spreading their pretty cups wide open to catch the sunlight. At last Tiny is waking.

When Tiny awoke from his slumbers in the hazel brush, he scampered down to the edge of the brook, washed his face, and combed out his long, bushy tail. Then he began to call for Chatty, but no answer came. He finally decided to start alone. He remembered to take the path leading to the right as the owl had directed him. For a long time he sauntered along, admiring the elder, oak, and buckeye trees, and occasionally he darted his piercing gaze at some low-hanging black haw or pawpaw bush, fearing some animal might attack him.

At last he came to a sandy plain, where he sat down to rest in the sunshine. Not far away he saw a city. Its streets were filled with busy inhabitants. Hundreds of them were hurrying to and fro, working with all their energy. Many little workers were erecting buildings. To lift a single grain of sand each was toiling with all his might. They did not stop to rest or to visit, but kept working, working, working. Tiny thought it would take them a long time to build houses from grains of sand.

THEY DID NOT STOP TO REST OR VISIT, BUT KEPT WORKING, WORKING, WORKING.

While the architects were busy building new homes, some soldiers in shiny, red clothes moved about as if they were giving orders to the workers. A crowd of watchmen stood at the gates of the city, ready to give warning at the approach of an enemy.

Not one of the little creatures was alarmed by the squirrel. They heeded him no more than Tiny did the tree beneath which he was crouching. He drew nearer and saw that there were many little rooms near the surface of the city and that below them was a great public dining-room and storeroom. Evidently they all ate their meals together. These rooms were kept in order by a host of servants, who were very busy all the time carrying out shells, seeds, and the remains of insects. Others collected all the rubbish and carried it out into a heap outside the city limits. Scores of nurses were looking after the babies, and teaching them that the time would soon come when they must labor like their elders.

Suddenly there was a great commotion in the street. Some food providers were struggling along with a fly they had found. They were taking it to the storeroom. The load was so heavy that several household workers rushed out to lend their help. They toiled along together, slowly, with one united effort, and with great difficulty; but, finally, they stowed the fly headlong into the public storeroom. Tiny breathed a sigh of relief when their hard task was done.

But they did not stop to rest. They turned out to help others bring in a locust. The workers in the storeroom cleared a place for other provisions; the watchmen guarded the gates, without taking their eyes from their work; the architects, steadily and patiently, carried grain after grain of sand to the tops of their buildings.

“How full of energy they are!” exclaimed Tiny. “By their combined efforts they can build and support a great city. If something destroys it, they build it up again. I wish squirrels would work together as these insects do. Oh, I see! It is as the owl prophet said. I have learned the lesson of patience. I do feel glad that I was permitted to study this wonderful city. However, I am surprised to learn such a noble lesson from the smallest of all creatures—ants!”

CHAPTER VI.

Not far from the city of ants, Tiny halted to refresh himself with an acorn.

“This country is delightful,” he said to himself. “A squirrel does not often see such a beautiful scene. He has little knowledge of the great world. I was discontented not long ago, but now I am happy. I am glad that I saw the ants and their city. They are very industrious creatures. All have much work to do, yet they do it willingly. They don’t seem to wish to be idle. Ants never before were interesting to me, but now I admire them very much. You have taught me a lesson, friend ant.”

SUDDENLY HE SAW A SPIDER BUSY AT WORK UPON HER COUNTRY HOME.

He sat still for a few moments gazing around him. Suddenly he saw a spider busy at work upon her country home. She wore a snuff-brown jacket dashed with purple, and her legs were striped like those of a tiger.

She had just finished digging a tunnel seven inches long in the earth, and had lined it with a substance that looked like silk. Now she was spinning a web to cover the outer door, which was really a dry oak leaf. She left an opening large enough to pass through. Then she pulled some blades of grass and fastened them across the leaf so securely that the entrance to her home could not be seen. She worked very busily, although occasionally a rude wasp came along and tried to sting her. In spite of disturbing insects, the spider finished building her home. Then she twined some tiny vines about the entrance, making a green bower that looked very pretty. When her difficult task was completed, she crawled into her silk-lined hall and went to sleep.

“Plucky wood spider!” cried Tiny in admiration. “Although the wasps threaten her life, she never gives up. You work diligently, little friend. I admire you very much. I have learned a lesson in perseverance.”

HE SAW A DARK OBJECT SITTING DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF HIM.

Tiny did not hunt a place in which to sleep until it was quite late. Indeed, the moon was beginning to shine before he thought of rest. Just as he was about to leave the path turning to the right, he saw a dark object sitting directly in front of him. It was singing in a clear and plaintive voice:

“Wur-r-r, wur-r-r, wur-r-r,

I never complain nor demur,

Though the fox and the bat and the weasel and cat

Are waiting to seize me and roll me out flat,

And swallow me down like a great lump of fat,

Wur-r-r, wur-r-r, wur-r-r.

“Wur-r-r, wur-r-r, wur-r-r,

I have neither feathers nor fur;

I am dusty and wrinkled and warts to me cling,

Yet I’m never unhappy, for Nature, kind thing,

Gave me such a sweet voice; so I constantly sing

Wur-r-r, wur-r-r, wur-r-r.”

“How fortunate it is that an ugly creature may have the power to sing!” exclaimed Tiny so loudly that the toad who had been singing grew frightened and leaped into the tall grass.

“You have taught me the song of contentment, Mrs. Toad,” he continued. “I have many privileges that you do not enjoy, for you only venture forth at night. Although hundreds of animals are waiting to destroy you, your song never loses its vigor. Your only recreation is to catch a few insects and to sit in the moonlight, singing ‘Wur-r-r, wur-r-r, wur-r-r’.”

CHAPTER VII.

Tiny spent the night in the fork of a wild plum tree. For some time he sat thinking of his mother and Squirreltown, but his lessons in patience and contentment had made him satisfied with his lot.

The next morning he started upon his journey, bravely following the narrow, twisting path, ever ready to avoid danger.

HE WAS ABOUT TO TAKE A DRINK WHEN HE SAW WHAT HE TOOK TO BE A FAIRY STRUGGLING IN THE WATER.

At length he came to a brook. He was about to take a drink when he saw what he took to be a fairy struggling in the water. She had been trying to get out for a long time; but, finally, her wings ceased to move and she lay very still.

Tiny, who was a good swimmer, hurried out to rescue her. He placed his nose under her and lifted her from the water. Holding his head high, he swam to the shore.

The fairy crawled upon a lady’s-slipper close by and flapped her wings until they were quite dry.

“You have done me a great service,” she said. “I’ll repay you some time when you least expect it. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

“Don’t try,” said Tiny, with a polite bow. “I’ve been taught to protect the helpless, provided they are not too big for my protection. I hope you are quite dry now.”

“Yes, I shall be able to fly back to the city as soon as I get my breath,” she said. “I am a queen bee and I should not be out of my hive. I left the palace this morning with several thousand followers and was on my way to a far-off country, when, in some peculiar manner, I fell into the water. I could not swim, so it is lucky for me that you came by.”

“I hope that your followers will find you. They must be greatly distressed.”

“Oh, I hope they’ll find me,” said the queen bee, as she flapped her wings. “You see, I have thousands and thousands of children; but they have good nurses and are never much bother. It is not hard to govern them.”

Tiny gazed at her in surprise.

“I have been queen of a place called the City Wonderful,” she continued. “I ruled fifty thousand subjects. We lived in a great city with narrow streets, protected by a beehive. You don’t know what a very busy place it was all summer long.”

“But it doesn’t seem possible that so many creatures could live together. Just imagine fifty thousand red squirrels in one tree!” gasped Tiny.

“That’s different,” responded the queen. “We live together in co-operation. Each of the workers knows her work and does it without having to be watched all the time. The workers are females, and they are very industrious; but the drones are males, and they do not work. They have to be driven out of the city before winter sets in, or they would eat all our provisions. The workers toil from morning till night, stopping up cracks in the hive with wax, carrying food to the baby bees, and storing it away for winter. They haven’t time to play in the summer. Each worker has six little pockets which she fills with pollen. She uses this in making wax for the walls. As soon as the walls are built, another set of workers make round places, or cells, in them. Others fill the cells with honey from the honey bags they carry about when they visit the flowers.”

“But where do the little baby bees stay?” asked Tiny.

“Oh, they stay in the empty honey cells and are watched and cared for by their nurses until they are old enough to work,” replied the queen. “There is much to do, but there are many classes of workers, from the honey gatherers to the bees that stand inside the hive, fanning with their wings to make currents of air; for without pure air the crowded City Wonderful would not be a fit place to live in. Another set of bees cleans out the cells after the baby bees are old enough to come out, and others guard the gate of the city to keep away moths and other troublesome creatures.”

“Bees are wise, sensible, industrious, and useful,” declared the squirrel. “I should like to see the City Wonderful. I am very glad that I have the privilege of seeing a queen bee. I wasn’t expecting such a great pleasure.”

The queen bee said that she was equally glad to see the red squirrel, and that she would be delighted to invite him to see the new City Wonderful, were it not for the fact that her soldiers might make it unpleasant for him.

“Are there many kinds of bees?” asked Tiny presently.

“Yes, there are fully seventy known varieties,” replied the queen, daintily flapping her wings. “There are the plasterer bees. They make tunnels in the ground, divide them into cells, and fill them with honey. They have forked tongues to use as trowels in smoothing down the silken layers which they use in making the tunnels. The flower riflers, which are very dark in color, make their cells on dry walls. Their homes look like lumps of mud.”

Tiny asked if all the bees live in great cities.

“Not all of them,” replied the queen, “although they are very sociable creatures. The upholsterer bee cuts out round pieces from rose leaves, with which she lines her tiny nest. Would it not be delightful to live in a nest of sweet-smelling rose leaves? I should much prefer such sweet quietude to city life. The upholsterer stores honey and pollen that looks like rose-colored jam. I dare say it is very delicious. The mason bees take bits of chalk, sand, and woody material, which they make into tiny bricks to use in building their little houses. Another kind of bee hunts for an old snail shell in which to make her house. There is another variety that builds its nest in the heart of the scarlet poppy. Some bees throw out sweet perfume. Although most bees work in the sunshine, there is a class, with wings tinted like the rainbow, that works by moonlight. You may be learned, my friend, but I could sit here all day and tell you things about bees. You would be much surprised at many facts I should mention. Bees, wasps, spiders, and ants are very clever.”

Tiny said that there was nothing that could give him greater pleasure than to hear her talk.

“But my body guard is coming,” continued the queen. “It is really an extraordinary thing for a queen bee to be without attendants. They must be much distressed about losing me.”

Tiny asked why she had left the City Wonderful.

“Because of family troubles,” replied the queen, somewhat ashamed. “We lived in perfect harmony until I learned that my daughter, the princess, would come out of her nursery cell in a few days to enter society. Princess bees are the only ones that cause trouble. They are fed on the finest food, and the nurses work hard to make their bodies as smooth and comely as possible. Of course, daughters that live in luxury and never have any responsibility are likely to be spoiled. Like all queen bees I am in fear of the eldest princess.”

“Why?” cried Tiny in surprise.

“Oh, you don’t understand bees,” said the queen with a sigh. “When my eldest princess comes from her nursery and is ready to go into society, she will try to kill me. She will strive to be queen. It is always that way with the princesses.”

“What a cruel daughter!” exclaimed the squirrel, much horrified.

“All princesses try to get the queens out of the way,” said the bee in a sad voice. “As soon as they are big enough to rule others, they want to control everything. So I have gotten several thousand loyal subjects and have left the hive to build a city of my own.”

“And will a cruel princess become queen in your place?” asked Tiny.

“Yes,” was the response, “but before long she will become uneasy, too. Her next younger sister will come out of her nursery and will want to rule. Perhaps there will be a great contest, but doubtless the elder princess will have to flee as I have done. She will have fewer followers than I, and they will be called the after-swarm. Thus jealousy goes on in the royal family all the time, but the other bees are usually peaceable and are always busy.”

At that moment Tiny heard a buzz that sounded as though all the insects in the world were singing together. A great swarm of bees, like a black cloud, appeared overhead.

“I believe this must have been the first time in history that a queen ever got away from the rest of the swarm,” said the queen bee. “I have enjoyed this little visit so much, and I thank you a thousand times for saving me from drowning.”

Waving her pretty wings in graceful farewell, she joined her army of soldiers, and with buzzes of delight they carried her away.

“What a dreadful thing it is to be a ruler, in constant fear of death!” said Tiny, gratefully. “I am glad—oh, so glad—that I am a little common squirrel, as free as the sunbeams that light my way.”

CHAPTER VIII.

After his strange meeting with the queen bee, Tiny wondered what would happen next. He remembered what the owl prophet had said concerning the dangers he would meet. As he sped onward, his little heart began to beat less bravely, for, like any young squirrel that had lived in a comfortable home without a care or a worry, he dreaded to face an uncertain future.

“I am frightened,” he said, with a shudder, as he stopped at the edge of a clump of cedars to find a place in which to spend the night. “The day and the twilight are gone. No moon or star is in the sky. I wish I were at home with mother.”

Then came a crash. Tiny thought for a moment that it was hailing. He was about to hide in the grass when a bright green light flashed forth, so brilliant that he could see all about him. He soon learned that the crash was caused by a multitude of acorns that the wind had shaken from a tree. Never before had he seen such splendid acorns.

“I will fill my hunting-bag, although such a large load will cause me to travel more slowly,” he said. “A bagful of acorns is a nice thing to have. How happy mother will be to get them!”

He began helping himself to the acorns. Suddenly he saw an ogre emerge from the ground, with a thousand darts all pointed straight at him. Never before in all his life had Tiny been so frightened.