Although the people who were trying to capture Eepersip and the kitten were naturally becoming very hungry, they didn’t like to leave the bush unguarded. But Mr. Brunio (who was exceptionally hungry) said that he had many more such nets, and that they could spread them all over the bush and hurriedly get luncheon. If they put them down very firmly, and ate rather fast, there wouldn’t be much chance of Eepersip’s escaping before they could get out again. So they spread four more nets over the bush and went in.
Now was Eepersip’s chance, and she worked harder than ever. At last, with the aid of Chippy and Snowflake, who helped a lot by digging around the pegs, Eepersip got out of the first net and began tugging at the second. She didn’t try to dig up the pegs of this one: instead, all three tried to dig under it, and at last they had made a hole large enough for Eepersip to crawl through. The fibres of the third net were rather rotten, so that Eepersip tore it easily. Each peg of the fourth and fifth nets came up at one mighty yank; Mr. Brunio and his helpers had put the last nets down in a great hurry, in order to get their luncheon. Then Eepersip, with the two little animals, fled from that dread place, across the bridge and back to the meadow, where she found a sheltered spot and slept.
The three families were much disgusted with themselves for not catching Eepersip and the kitten; but they promised Mr. Brunio that they would try again. There followed a week of rainy weather, during which they made no attempts, but laid plans. As soon as the weather cleared, they tried one of these plans; and Snowflake had a narrow escape.
It was in the middle of the night. The families found Eepersip, with the two little animals, asleep on the meadow. They took the kitten from her arms. But as they did so, Eepersip herself woke up, screamed loudly, and rushed after them. Then they turned and came after her; and Eepersip was bold enough and angry enough not to run until she had rescued Snowflake. She came right up to her parents and seized Snowflake from the arms of the horrified Mrs. Eigleen. Then Eepersip ran—and fast, too!
When she came to the edge of the woods she made straight for a great pine. This tree she had climbed about in often, and she knew its every limb. In pitch dark she could find all its branches, and sometimes she trusted to her memory rather recklessly. She was as sure of this tree as of the ground, even at night. She loved it—she called it her tree. A tree was, perhaps, not the easiest place of concealment, but Eepersip thought that in this way she would not have to run all over the meadow in the dark—and she was very tired after her usual all-day playing.
There were no branches lower than seven feet up. Eepersip made one leap, caught hold of a branch, and swung herself up on to it. From that branch she mounted higher and higher until she reached the very top. It swayed gloriously, even under her light weight, but it didn’t creak as if about to break. She sat up in the high crotch and looked at the people so far below, through a mass of black needles and a mighty thickness of strong limbs. It was a wonderful night. The sky was spangled with stars of vivid silver. Not a cloud was to be seen except on the western horizon, where a bank was piling up rapidly, silhouetted against the deep ultramarine of the sky, across which the Milky Way made a path of radiance. Eepersip, looking down among the powerful limbs, felt as if she were part of the familiar tree.
Poor Chippy and Snowflake were tired and sleepy after what they had just been through. Eepersip murmured kind words to them, while she thought of all that she had been through herself. She was not in the least dizzy, but she was tired, and she knew that she must not go to sleep up there.
Then she saw that Mr. Eigleen had started to climb the great tree. He got about half-way up and then stopped. She remembered the place: it had been difficult for her, too. There was not a limb where he could put out a foot and step on it; the next one was at the level of his neck. The question was, how could he get on to this limb? He didn’t have the strength to pull himself up to it the way Eepersip had done. He tried for a long time; but his caution proved too much for him. At last, in despair, he descended; and the people went away, leaving Eepersip in peace.
As soon as they were well out of sight and hearing, Eepersip came down in a series of leaps from limb to limb. At length she got to the bottom, where the last limb was seven feet from the ground. She braced herself as firmly as she could on this, and then she jumped. It was a marvellous jump in the dark, and she landed on the ground unhurt, though very tired and covered with bits of bark. “My, that was a dreary adventure!” she said sleepily, as she crawled off to find a place to sleep