Tiny tried to escape, but the branch of the tree was slippery with rain. In a twinkling he received a terrific blow from an enormous paw. Then followed a crash of thunder, an angry roar, and the frightened shriek of a poor helpless squirrel.
“Oh, save me from the lynx—the lynx!” he cried.
Both he and the bloodthirsty creature had fallen to the ground. Tiny knew that in another moment he might meet with a tragic fate. Another flash of lightning showed the lynx, with his fur standing straight and his back curled, ready to pounce upon him.
WHEN THE LIGHTNING FLASHED AGAIN HE DASHED FORWARD AND THRUST THE PEN INTO THE DELICATE NOSTRILS OF THE LYNX.
Darkness came again. Tiny was so badly stunned for a while that he could hardly move. He stood dumbly awaiting the final blow. Then a loud roar of pain resounded through the forest. It was evident to Tiny that some creature was attacking the lynx. The little squirrel unloosened the pen that had been given him. When the lightning flashed again, he dashed forward and thrust it into the delicate nostril of the lynx. There was another cry, more of surprise than of pain, and the ferocious animal disappeared in the blackness of night.
“We are safe now,” said Winkie Weasel’s welcome voice. “It is fortunate that I came with you. Just as the lynx was about to destroy you, I rushed out of the stump and gave his tail a bite that he will not soon forget. I think, judging by the way he yelled, he must have thought he was struck by lightning.”
Tiny was too weak to reply. He stood shivering in the rain, yet he was grateful that he had learned the value of friendship. Winkie, who enjoyed dreadful encounters, pushed him back into the stump that he might protect him through the night. There they remained until daybreak.
“Now, forget about the lynx and don’t be so cast down,” were the first words that Winkie said on the following morning. “Don’t hold any ill-will towards him. He was only thinking what a fine meal you would make. All animals are looking out for themselves.”
A turn in the long path brought them into Deertown. A number of red deer were lying together upon the grassy turf. They had slept well, for the branches of the trees had formed a thick canopy over their heads. A stag with a reddish-brown coat and big branching antlers was guarding them. Several pretty fawns with brown eyes and white coats were playing hide-and-seek in the bushes. Although deer are quick to hear the footsteps of larger animals, they paid no heed to the little newcomers.