“Yes, Slicko is certainly a fine jumper,” said Mrs. Squirrel, to her husband one day. “She can jump almost as far as we can.”
“Well, I hope she is careful,” spoke Mr. Squirrel. “I was over near the swamp, to-day, looking to see if I could find any sweetflag root for supper, and I heard a noise like a gun. That hunter-man is still in the woods.”
“Maybe it was thunder you heard,” said Mrs. Squirrel.
“No, I’m sure it was the gun of the hunter-man,” went on her husband. “Well, I am glad the little ones can jump. It will help them to keep out of his way.”
“Indeed it will,” said Mrs. Squirrel.
For a week or so after this, the little squirrels practiced jumping every day. As soon as they had had their breakfast of nuts, or oats or wheat, which their papa or mamma brought in from the farmer’s fields, the little squirrels would begin jumping.
Sometimes they would run up and down the tree trunks, and again they would pretend to hide under the leaves, for their parents had told them that was a good way to keep out of sight when there was any danger in the forest.
The Squirrel family lived in the woods, a very nice woods indeed; with many green trees growing in it. The ground in some places was covered with brown leaves, that had fallen off the trees, and in other places there was soft green moss, like the velvet carpet in the parlor at your house.
And, not far from the tree where Slicko and the other squirrels lived, was a pretty brook that ran through the wood, making nice music as it trickled over the stones. The water was cool, and good to drink, and often Slicko, and her brothers and sister, would come to the edge of the brook to bathe, or get a drink.
One day, after she had practiced her jumping lesson for some time, Slicko said to her sister, Chatter: