‘Snakes’ eyes and adders’ tongues!’ he exclaimed—Rusty was sadly given to the use of bad language—‘this white stuff has covered it all up, and I’m hungry enough to eat a sprouting acorn.’
‘Dig, you duffer!’ I answered him, and together we set to work, our sharp claws sending the crisp snow flying in clouds behind us. Suddenly the crust gave way, and we both tumbled through, one on top of the other, into a good sized hollow beneath. At first Rusty was much annoyed, considering it all my fault. However, as soon as he discovered that we were actually on top of our larder, he recovered, and began with all speed to scratch out the mast from the nooks and corners in which it had been stored.
Some people will tell you that a squirrel never hides two nuts in the same place, but this is not quite the fact. As I have said before, we all have a very natural objection to piling a whole score of nuts or other provender together in one place; for then, if any marauder does come along, he naturally gets the whole lot. But it must not be imagined that a separate hiding-place is made for each single nut or acorn. No; when we discover a good place for a larder, such as the hollow I am now speaking of, we often put quite a quantity of food into it, poking each separate morsel into a different crack or corner.
That was a royal feast. I am quite certain that neither Rusty nor I had ever been so hungry before in the whole of our short lives; and this makes me suspect that we had been asleep for at least a fortnight, or possibly more. At last Rusty, after a vain rummage in the furthest corner of the hollow, turned on me:
‘You greedy pig, Scud, you’ve eaten the last bit of mast!’
‘Well, you are a good one!’ I retorted, laughing. ‘I don’t mind betting you a chestnut that you’ve eaten more than me.’
‘Anyhow, there’s nothing left here,’ replied Rusty in a very aggrieved tone. ‘At this rate our stores won’t last long.’
‘There is any amount left,’ I told him, ‘and it seems to me that travelling is safer and better than ever. We’ll go round and hunt up some of those hazel-nuts under the hedge next time.’
‘All very well if this weather lasts,’ grumbled my brother, who always loved a grievance. ‘But suppose it melts. Mother said it often did. Then the grass will be all wet and beastly, and the ditch probably full of water. Or suppose more snow falls; then everything will be covered up.’
‘’Pon my fur, you’re as bad as a frog!’ I retorted. ‘Never was such a squirrel to croak. Come along out of this dark hole. I want some exercise.’