“Slicko did us a very great favor,” said Bob’s father. “She frightened away the burglar. I think, as a reward, you ought to let her go, Bob.”
Bob said nothing for a long while. Then he spoke softly.
“Very well, father,” he said. “I’ll let Slicko go free!”
Bob took the cage, with his pet in it, to the edge of the woods. He opened the little wire door.
“You may go, Slicko,” said Bob. “Go off to the woods where you belong. I’ll set you free, but I hope you will come and see me, sometime.”
“Chatter-chatter-chatter-r-r-r-r-r!” chirped Slicko. She sprang out of the cage, and stood upright for a moment on the ground. [Then, she scrambled up on Bob’s shoulder and put her cold, soft nose on his cheek.] That was her way of kissing him good-bye.
Down scrambled Slicko, and off to the woods she ran.
“Good-bye, Slicko, my little jumping squirrel!” called Bob, as he went back to the house with the empty cage. And yet, after all, he felt happy that he had let Slicko go.
Slicko ran on and on through the woods. All that day she wandered about. She found a spring and got a drink of water, and in a field she found an early apple tree, and ate an apple.