Finally they reached a narrow branch which led over to the new nest. They crawled out on it, lifting one foot and then setting it down before lifting another.
The farther they crept the narrower the branch grew under them. Their little paws began to slip over the smoother bark. The one in front tried to turn around, but he was afraid of falling. So they all three scrambled backwards to the safe trunk.
The mother ran back to them, and chattered and scolded. Again and again they started out over the branch, and then went scrambling back.
When at last the mother had coaxed them across to the nest she looked around for the smallest baby. There he was, away down at the door of the old nest.
The old squirrel was tired out. Her fur was ruffled and her ears drooped. She ran down to the nest and began to scold the little fellow. He sat up and put his paws around her to let him stay there.
But she started him up the trunk and pushed him along to the branch. Then she took hold of him by the neck and carried him across to the new home.
After that the little ones were taken out every morning to practise climbing. Little by little they learned to balance themselves on the branches. Their tails were fluffy enough by this time to be of use in balancing.
First to one side, then to the other, each baby tilted his tail as he crept along, step by step. Every day they could move a little faster. Finally they were able to chase one another up and down, from branch to branch.
They went running around the trunks, skipping and leaping from twig to twig, and jumping from one tree to another, even through the air.