“Bang!” sounded through the woods, making the leaves on the trees shake.
“That’s the hunter’s gun!” exclaimed Nutto. “Run, everybody!”
Off through the woods scampered Slicko, her father and mother and her brothers and sister. Slicko climbed up one tree, jumped into another, and still another.
“I don’t believe the hunter and his dog will get me,” thought Slicko, as she hurried on toward the nest where her Aunt Whitey lived.
Pretty soon the hunter-man and his dog came to the foot of the tree where Slicko used to live.
“Ha! There’s that squirrel nest I saw the other day,” said the man to himself. “I wonder if there are any in it? I’ll wait a while, and see if I can shoot any of them for my dinner.”
“Bow wow! Bow wow!” barked the dog. Perhaps he, too, wanted some squirrels for his dinner.
All around the foot of the tree ran the dog, barking as loudly as he could. Maybe he was hoping he could scare the squirrels out of the nest so his master could shoot them with his gun.
The man waited and waited, looking up at the hole in the trunk of the tree, where he knew the squirrels had lived. But he did not know they had gone. That was the time the squirrels were smarter than the hunter.
Several hours passed, and still the man waited. Every now and then he would look up at the hole, with his gun all ready to shoot, and the dog, who had been running off in the woods, looking for more squirrels, would come back, barking louder than ever.