Of course, neither Bannertail nor Silvergray did show themselves. That is very old wood-wisdom. "Lay low, keep out of sight when the foe is on the war-path." And at last the besiegers and their yap-colleague tramped away without having seen sign or hair of a Squirrel.
There was very little to the incident, but it sank deep into Silvergray's small brain. "This nest is ill-concealed. Every hostile creature finds it."
There was yet another circumstance that urged action. Shall I tell it? It is so unpicturesque. A Squirrel's nest is a breeding-ground for vermin; a nest that is lined with soft grass, feathers, and wool becomes a swarming hive. Bannertail's farm upbringing had made him all too familiar with feathers and wool. His contribution to the home furnishing had been of the kind that guaranteed a parasitic scourge. This thing he had not learned—for it is instilled by the smell of their mother nest—cedar bark and sassafras leaves, with their pungent oils, are needed to keep the irritating vermin swarm away. And Silvergray, was she at fault? Only in this, the purifying bark and leaves were scarce. She was weak compared with Bannertail. His contributions had so far outpointed hers that the nest had become unbearable. Their only course was to abandon it.