Near the top of the tree was an old branch, or rather the stump of an old branch, decayed and blackened, reaching out a little way, like an arm. This was soon enveloped in smoke; and, as Caleb was watching it, as it appeared and disappeared in the wreaths, he thought he saw something move. He looked again, intently. It was a squirrel,—half suffocated in the smoke, and struggling to hold on. Caleb immediately called out to Raymond as loud as he could call,
“Raymond, Raymond, come here, quick: here is a poor squirrel burning up.”
Raymond dropped his axe, and ran,—bounding over the logs, and hummocks; but before he reached the place, the squirrel, unable to hold on any longer, and half stifled with the smoke and scorching heat, dropped from his hold to the ground. Raymond came up at the moment, and seized him; he brought him to where Caleb was sitting,—Caleb himself eagerly coming forward to see.
“Is it dead?” said Caleb.
“Pretty much,” said Raymond. The squirrel lay gasping helplessly in Raymond's hands. “Here, put him in my cap,” said Caleb; “that will make a good bed for him, and perhaps he will come to life again.”
Raymond examined him pretty carefully, and he did not seem to be burnt. He said he thought he must have been suffocated by breathing the smoke and hot air. Raymond then went back to his work, and Caleb sat upon the log, watching alternately the squirrel and the burning tree.
In a few minutes a great flame flashed out at the top of the tree: and finally, after about half an hour, the whole trunk, being all in a blaze, from top to bottom, began slowly to bend and bend over.
“Raymond,” shouted Caleb,—“Raymond, look;—it is going to fall!”
The tall trunk moved at first slowly, but soon more and more rapidly, and finally came down to the ground with a crash.
The crash startled the little squirrel, so that he almost regained his feet; and Caleb was afraid that he was going to run away. But he laid over again upon his side, and was soon quiet again as before.