“I wonder if you’ll bite,” he said.
“Ha! That’s so. I can bite!” said Slicko out loud, but, to the boy, her talk only sounded like chattering.
Slicko had sharp teeth, and very strong. They had to be, for with them she had to gnaw off the shell of hard hickory nuts. So Slicko knew she could bite fiercely if she wanted to.
“But I don’t know that I want to,” thought Slicko. “If I bite, the boy will be angry at me, and if he is to teach me tricks, it will be better if we are friends. No, I won’t bite him, though I could if I wanted to.”
Slowly and carefully, the boy put out his hand toward Slicko.
“I wish I had a thick pair of gloves,” he said. “Then if you bit, it wouldn’t hurt. I got bit by a squirrel once, and I don’t want it to happen again.”
“I won’t bite you,” said Slicko, though of course the boy could not understand her. Now his hand was on the soft fur of Slicko’s back, and he stroked her gently.
“Poor little squirrel,” said the boy. “I’m sorry you were caught in the trap, and I hope you’re not hurt much. I—I guess I’m never going to set any more traps.”
The boy felt sorry now, for poor Slicko looked at him with such a sorrowful look in her bright eyes, that it really seemed as if she were crying tears of pain—that is, if squirrels can cry. They can feel pain, at any rate.
So you see, though it was a sad thing for Slicko to be caught in a trap, in one way it was a good thing, for it taught the boy a lesson, and made him more kind-hearted.