"Well, that surely makes me feel better," said the little Mother person.
"But won't you please tell me your name?" said Buddy Jim. "Why, surely," said the small Mother person, "we are the Flying Squirrels, though we of course do not really fly, we just get our balance and sail through the air. Like this," she said, giving a little jump and sailing across the loft and back again.
"I heard you planning to move," said Buddy Jim. "Why! This is such a safe big place for the babies to play around in."
"That's what we thought," said Mother Flying Squirrel, "and that is why we moved into Barn Swallow's old nest instead of making one for ourselves—he isn't using it this year—see, it's up on that cross-beam. But now that they are filling the barn so full of hay, I'm afraid my children will be buried under it, so Father Squirrel has gone out to see if he can find us a new place to live in."
"Wait a minute," said Buddy Jim, "I think I can help you. You just sit tight until I come back."
Buddy Jim slid down from the hayloft and went out to his own little work bench which Daddy had given him. There he hunted until he found just what he wanted. It was a wooden box that used to hold soap. In a few minutes with hammer and nails he had made just the nicest little house you could wish for. And then he covered the floor of it with soft, fine shavings, and took it back to the hayloft.
Then he climbed up on the cross beam, and nailed the house way up high, so high that the hay just never could come up to it.
And then he sat down to watch little Mother Flying Squirrel move. First she fixed the shavings to suit herself. Then, for fear it was not soft enough she got some hay and put that in and trampled it down.
Then she moved the babies, taking one at a time, in her mouth, just the way Tabby the Cat moves hers. When they were all safely in the new nest, she sat up on the top of the house to look for Daddy Flying Squirrel.