"Hadn't I indeed! My little ones were there close by in the drey."
"And when they were out of the drey did you teach them to run about in the tree, and jump from one branch to another, and pass from tree to tree?"
"I never saw them leave the drey—I was shot."
"Where was that, squirrel?"
"In the Treve Woods where the big beeches are, beyond Lostwithiel."
"Never! Why, that's just where I lived and was shot, too. Did it hurt you, squirrel?"
"I don't know. I saw a flash and remembered no more until I found myself dead in the man's pocket pressed against some wet soft thing. Did it hurt you?"
"Yes, very much. I fell when he fired and tried to get away, but he chased and caught me and the blood ran out on to his hand. He wiped it off on his coat, then squeezed my sides with his finger and thumb until I was dead, then put me in his pocket. There was some dead warm soft thing in it."
Here there was a break in the talk owing to a momentary lull in the wind. I listened intently, but the shrieking and wailing noises without had ceased and with them the sharp little voices had died away. Then suddenly the wind rose and shrieked again and the talk recommenced.
"Hullo!" said the woodpecker. "Do you see a man sitting by the fire looking at us? He has been staring at us that way all the evening."