Harry, too, was always with his brother at this time, and they talked more than I had ever known them to do before.
The two were very serious one day, lying on their backs beneath the trees on the lawn while I ran all over them both impartially. And from the way in which they turned to me and caught me up every now and then, as well as because I heard my own name frequently spoken, I came to the conclusion the conversation had something to do with my fate. And there was no doubt it had, for it was after this time they all left the Hall, and when I visited it again there were strangers—but I mustn’t go on too fast. I fancy Jack urged Harry to keep me while he himself was away, and Harry shook his head; perhaps he was afraid I might mope away, as I did before in Jack’s absence, and end by dying. Anyway, a gloomy silence settled again between the brothers. At last Jack started up and waved his hand energetically in the direction of the wood; then, springing to his feet, he called to me to come to him. I had leaped away in affright at his sudden movements, to which I never could get accustomed, but I returned again at once. Jack had quite sense enough to know squirrels mate for life, and the young ones usually stay with their parents all the winter; and he knew, what I did not, that mother and Hazel and Rusty would still be in the coppice to greet me, and teach me all the wild-wood lore, even though my father was dead.
The brothers argued for some time over my prospective fate, but I did not really understand until later, when their actions showed me what they meant. I had leaped from Jack’s shoulder during this weighty conversation, and was enjoying myself hugely, tearing round and round the two boys, and making an occasional dive into Jack’s pocket after the nuts and grains of wheat and maize which were always to be found there. But, after all, I was not taken away to the woodlands at once.
Three or four days later Jack again got up very early, and as he dressed I could hear out on the drive a great grinding of heavy wheels. As Jack hurried down he took me on his shoulder instead of putting me in my cage. His brother joined him on the stairs, and they walked down side by side, as solemnly as two old crows.
The hall was full of crates and matting, and men in green baize aprons were turning everything upside down. Outside, in the ring, were great vans almost as big as cottages. The boys hardly wasted a glance on these things, but hurried past, and next moment were striding away across the dewy grass of the lawn.
I was amazed at being taken out so early, but all the same very much delighted, and sat on my master’s shoulder chattering with joy. Neither brother spoke, but walked steadily on under the long morning shadows of the tall elms until they reached the ha-ha which cut the garden off from the park. Jumping down the sunk fence, they turned to the right, passed under the shadow of the wall of the kitchen-garden, and along beside the laurel plantation beyond. A wicket-gate led through the park fence and into a large field, in which red cattle were grazing.
Strange memories began to stir in my breast as a line of tall, thick timber came in sight on the far side of the meadow; and when my master jumped the little brook and walked up over some broken, sandy ground where the white scuts of rabbits bobbed among the bracken, towards the tall magpie hedge beyond, my heart was beating so violently that I could only sit quite still upon his shoulder and stare about me in a sort of mazed bewilderment.
On through the gate, and at once we were plunged into deep, damp coolness. All the half-forgotten odours of moss and bracken and rotting wood, and a hundred other woodland scents, rose to my distended nostrils and almost overpowered me. Just then I could not have moved for the life of me.
Harry was the first to break the silence.
‘That’s where I saw the little beggars the other day, Jack,’ he said softly, and pointed to a tall beech-tree whose leaves, just beginning to yellow with the first chill of autumn, hung motionless in the still morning air.