THE COURTING OF SILVERGRAY
AWAY went Silvergray, undulating among the high branches that led to the
next tree, and keen behind came the two. Then they met at the branch
that had furnished the footway for the Gray Lady, and in a moment they
clinched. Grappling like cats, they drove their teeth into each other's
shoulders, just where the hide was thickest and the danger least.
In their combat rage they paid no heed to where they were. Their every
clutch was on each other, none for the branch, and over they tumbled
into open space.
[Illustration]
Two fighting cats so falling would have clutched the harder and hoped
each that the other would be the one to land on the under side.
Squirrels have a different way. Sensing the fall, at once they sprang
apart, each fluffed his great flowing tail to the utmost--it is nature's
own "land-easy"--they landed gently, wide apart, and quite unshaken even
by the fall. Overhead was the Lady of the tourney, in plain view, and
the two stout knights lost not a moment in darting up her tree; again
they met on a narrow limb, again they clutched and stabbed each other
with their chisel teeth, again the reckless grapple, clutch, and the
drop in vacant air--again they shot apart, one landed on the solid
ground, but the other--the echo voice--went splash, plunge into the
deepest part of the creek! In ten heart-beats he was safely on the bank.
But there is such soothing magic in cold water, such quenching of all
fires, be they of smoke or love or war, that the Echo Singer crawled
forth in quite a different mood, and Bannertail, flashing up the great
tree trunk, went now alone.
To have conquered a rival is a long step toward victory, but it is not
yet victory complete. When he swung from limb to limb, ever nearer the
Silvergray, he was stirred with the wildest hankering of love. Was she
not altogether lovely? But she fled away as though she feared him; and
away he went pursuing.
There is no more exquisite climbing action than that of the Squirrel,
and these two, half a leap apart, winding, wending, rippling through the
high roof-tree of the woods, were less like two gray climbing things
than some long, silvery serpent, sinuating, flashing in and out in
undulating coils with endless grace and certainty among the trees.
[Illustration]
Now who will say that Silvergray really raced her fastest, and who will
deny that he did his best? He was strong and swift, the race must end,
and then she faced him with anger and menace simulated in her face and
pose. He approached too near; her chisel teeth closed on his neck. He
held still, limp, absolutely unresisting. Her clutch relaxed. Had he not
surrendered? They stood facing each other, an armed neutrality
established, nothing more.
Shyly apart and yet together, they drifted about that day, feeding at
feed time. But she was ready to warn him that his distance he must keep.
By countless little signs they understood each other, and when the night
came she entered a familiar hollow tree and warned him to go home.
[Illustration: THEY TWIDDLED WHISKERS GOOD NIGHT]
Next day they met again, and the next, for there is a rule of
woodland courtship--three times he must offer and be refused. Having
passed this proof, all may be well.
Thus the tradition of the woods was fully carried out, and Bannertail
with Silvergray was looking for a home.
_THE HOME IN THE HIGH HICKORY_