“I hope you are honest in your dealings, my son,” said old Nutcracker.
Featherhead threw his tail saucily over one shoulder and laughed. “Certainly, sir, if honesty means getting what you can while it is going, I mean to be honest.”
Very soon Featherhead seemed to be very prosperous. He had a splendid hole in the midst of a heap of chestnuts, and he seemed to be rolling in wealth. He lavished gifts on his mother and sisters; he carried his tail very proudly over his back. He was even gracious to Tip Chipmunk.
But one day as Featherhead was lolling in his hole, up came two boys with the friskiest, wiriest Scotch terrier you ever saw. His eyes blazed like torches. Featherhead’s heart died within him as he heard the boys say, “Now we’ll see if we can catch the rascal that eats our grain.”
Featherhead tried to slink out of the hole he had gnawed to come in by, but found it stopped.
“Oh, you are there, are you, Mister?” cried the boy. “Well, you don’t get out, and now for a chase.”
And sure enough poor Featherhead ran with terror up and down through the bundles of hay. But the barking terrier was at his heels, and the boys shouted and cheered. He was glad at last to escape through a crack, though he left half of his fine brush behind him—for Master Wasp, the terrier, made a snap at it just as Featherhead was squeezing through. Alas! all the hair was cleaned off so that it was as bare as a rat’s tail.
Poor Featherhead limped off, bruised and beaten, with the dog and boys still after him, and they would have caught him if Tip Chipmunk’s hole had not stood open to receive him. Tip took the best of care of him, but the glory of Featherhead’s tail had gone forever. From that time, though, he was a sadder and a wiser squirrel than he ever had been before.