“I do hope he has some sugar for me,” thought Slicko, for sometimes Bob’s papa would play at tricks and games with the little squirrel, and do just as Bob did—hide things in his pocket.
Slicko was almost at the man’s leg. Her little claws made a patter-patter-pat sound on the floor oilcloth. The man heard it, and started.
“A rat!” he cried. “I don’t like rats!”
“The idea of calling me a rat!” thought Slicko. “I’ll soon show you who I am, Mr. Bob’s papa.”
The next moment Slicko scrambled up the man’s leg, sticking her claws in the soft cloth of his trousers.
“Get away from me! Get away from me!” the man cried, very much excited, and he struck at Slicko. “Get off me!” and the man was fairly screaming now. “Get away! I hate rats! I’m afraid of ’em!”
“Why, he’s worse than Tum Tum, the elephant,” said Slicko to herself. “But maybe he’s only fooling. I’ll climb up on his shoulder and sit there. Then maybe he’ll give me something to eat.”
Quickly Slicko scrambled up to the man’s shoulder. She put her soft, cold nose on his neck.
“Oh! Oh! Go away! A rat! It’ll bite me!” cried the man.
He leaped aside and with his hand brushed Slicko away. She fell on the kitchen table. And then, all of a sudden the whole house was filled with light. [Slicko sat up on the table in time to see the man give a jump through the window], while from his pocket fell a shower of knives and forks and spoons. For the man was a burglar—a thief—and he had come in the night to rob.