THE GREAT DISASTER
The day on which the great disaster befell us was wet in the early
morning, and when the sun rose a thick, soft mist, white like
cotton-wool, hung over the country-side. Not a breath of air was
stirring, and it was so intensely still that it seemed as though one
could hear everything that moved from one end of the wood to the other.
The plop of a water-rat diving into a pool in the stream on the far side
of the coppice came as clearly to my ears as though the water had been
at the bottom of our own tree instead of several hundred yards away, and
when the wood-pigeons began to move unseen in the smother, the clatter of
their wings was positively startling.
We squirrel folk are not fond of wet, so we lay still and snug in our
cosy retreat until the sun began to eat up the mist. Soon the grey
smother thinned and sank, leaving the tree-tops bathed in brilliant
light, every twig dripping with moisture, and every drop sparkling
with intense brilliance. Then we crept out one by one, and, sitting up
straight upon our haunches, began our morning toilet. No other woodland
creature is so careful and tidy in its habits as a squirrel, and mother
had already thoroughly instructed us in the proper methods of using our
paws as brushes and our tongues as sponges, and in making ourselves neat
and smart as self-respecting, healthy squirrels should be.
Suddenly a peal of distant bells came clanging through the moist, calm
air with such a vibrating note that they made us all start. Father sat up
sharply, and mother asked him what was the matter.
He explained to us that he had learnt by experience that when those bells
rang out it was a dangerous time for us, for all the mischievous boys and
rough fellows in the neighbourhood seemed to appear in the woods, and the
keeper was never seen. He did not know why this should be, but from long
custom he had grown to be uneasy at the sound.
Mother shuddered sympathetically, and rubbed against him caressingly,
with a movement that told him not to worry, and she reminded him
consolingly that even if our tormentors did take it into their heads
to come into the wood they would not be likely to find us, since we had
moved.
But father, instead of responding, suddenly pricked up his ears, and,
signalling to us to be quiet, listened eagerly to some sound which the
rest of us had not yet caught. For a moment he sat up straight, as still
as though stuffed; then he turned and spoke sharply, with a warning sound
that told us to lie as still as mice, for some danger was approaching.
Sure enough, a minute later we all heard the warning cry of a frightened
blackbird, and immediately afterwards the brushing and trampling of a
number of heavy boots through the wet grass and fern in the distance. At
once we all stretched ourselves out tight as bark along the flat bough
which formed the foundation of our nest, and lay there still as so many
sleeping dormice.
The steps came rapidly nearer, and soon voices sounded plainly through
the hush of the quiet wood. Imagine how I shuddered when I recognized the
coarse tones of our former enemies mixed with others equally harsh and
unpleasant! They were making straight for our part of the wood.
Shaking though I was in every limb, curiosity drove me to peep cautiously
over the edge of the bough. The mist was all gone now, and there, below
the tall larch-tree which had been our old home and the scene of our
recent narrow escape, stood four young louts, our old enemies and two
others about the same size and age, all craning their necks and staring
upwards through the thick, pale-green branches. Each was carrying in his
right hand a short, flexible stick with a heavy head. These were not long
enough for walking-sticks, such as Crump, the keeper, and other humans
who sometimes came through the wood carried; and, in spite of my fright,
I wondered greatly what they were for. Alas! it was not long before I
learnt the terrible powers of the cruel ‘squailer.’
After a good deal of argument and dispute one of the new-comers swung
himself up on to the lowest bough. He climbed far better and faster than
the one who had tried before, and in a very short time had reached a
bough close below our old drey.
By this time I was getting over my fright a little. I turned to Rusty,
who was next me.
‘What a sell for them when they find no one at home!’ I whispered in his
ear.
But Rusty only grunted, and a sharp signal for silence came from father.
The bough which had been broken before stopped the climber for a few
moments, but presently he managed to swarm up the trunk and seat himself
astride of the very branch upon which our former home was founded.
They shouted to him from below to be careful. The fellow in the tree paid
no heed, but, clutching the trunk with one hand to steady himself, boldly
thrust the other into the nest. There was a sharp exclamation of disgust;
and he cried out furiously that there was nothing there.
They were all in great excitement, and kept urging him to look further
and to make sure we weren’t hiding. He felt in every crevice of the nest,
and peered about in the boughs, and then, having evidently made up his
mind we had really gone, prepared to descend.
But the others called to him to look again, so, steadying himself once
more upon the bough, he peered upward. Then he solemnly declared, shaking
his head, that there was nothing in the tree. To prove it, with a sweep
of his great red paw, he carelessly ripped our old home from its perch
and sent it tumbling to the ground. I heard mother give a little gasp as
she saw destroyed in an instant the results of so many hours of careful
and loving toil; but my own thoughts and eyes were so concentrated upon
the invader of our rightful domain that I am afraid I hardly considered
her injured feelings. Still they would not allow him to come down; and
now came in a very real danger. From the ground it would have been quite
impossible for them to spy us out in our new quarters, but up the tree
this fellow was on a level with us, and had only to get a clear look
between the boughs to spy our little red bodies, which, however much we
crouched together, made a considerable ball of fur.
Climbing to his feet, he stood upright on the bough, clinging with one
arm to the trunk. It was this movement which proved our undoing. Standing
thus, his head was clear of the dwindling foliage near the spire-like
summit of the larch, and from his lofty perch his eye commanded the
tree-tops in the neighbourhood. A moment later his gaze fell upon us,
five small scared balls of red fur, and his roar of triumph struck terror
to our quaking hearts.
Without paying the slightest attention to the shouted questions of his
friends below, he swung himself down hand over hand, and in a very
short time had dropped to the ground, and was running across towards our
fir-tree, with the others yelping at his heels like a pack of harriers
after a hare.
Mother and father exchanged a few hurried words, but what they said I
in my excitement had not the faintest idea. Next moment father had me
by the scruff of the neck, and darted away up into the thick and almost
impenetrable top of the giant fir. Mother, with Hazel between her teeth,
came after him like a flash.
The fir-trunk forked near the summit; it was to this point that father
carried me, and dropped me in the niche between the two boughs. Instantly
he was off again to fetch Rusty. Before our enemies had noticed what was
happening, and while they were still arguing as to which of them should
do the climbing, all we three youngsters had been deposited together in
our lofty refuge.
A scuffling noise and the sound of heavy breathing came from below. One
of the gang had begun the ascent of the tree. Mother looked at father in
a sort of dumb agony. She was palpitating with fright, and her dark eyes
were large and brilliant with terror.
‘Can we reach another tree, Redskin?’ she asked tremblingly.
But father knew better, and signified, ‘No.’ They two might have done it
themselves, but carrying us the jump would be too long to risk.
From far below the bumping, scuffling noise slowly grew louder and
nearer. It was a long way up to the first bough of the fir-tree, and
the climber—it was the same one again—was obliged to swarm the scaly
red trunk. We could not, of course, see anything of him, for the matted
tangle of crooked branches below, with their foliage of thick, dark green
needles, formed an impenetrable screen.
I cannot even now remember that long wait in the sunny tree-top, while
ever from below the unseen danger crept upon us, without an unpleasant
thrill, and I know that both my brother and my sister shared my feelings.
The worst part of it all was the sight of the terror of our father, who
had always been to us a pattern of bravery. The fact was that he realized
the position, which we younger ones did not do fully. He was only too
well aware that we were trapped. He and mother might have easily escaped
by descending to the longer branches below, and thence jumping into a
spruce which grew close by; but they would not desert us, and both
remained clinging tightly to the main trunk just beside us.
The hollow in which my brother and sister and I were placed gave us
complete shelter from below, but there was only just room for the three
of us. Father and mother were forced to expose themselves. The fir was,
as I have said before, a very large tree—quite seventy feet high—old,
thick, and gnarled, and the boughs were of considerable thickness near to
its very summit. Father no doubt understood that our bulky enemy would,
if he had the pluck, be able to pursue us right up to our lofty perch,
and was aware of our almost hopeless position.
Slowly, very slowly, our persecutor came upwards. The branches, once
he was among them, were so close and thick that he evidently found it
difficult to force his way between them. Every now and then he would stop
and puff and blow; then the creaking of large boughs and the cracking of
small twigs announced a fresh effort on his part.
At last he was only separated from our second nest by a very small
interval. Yet he had not discovered it was empty. The others kept yelling
out questions to him, but he made no reply, only forced his way through
the tree, which, I am bound to say, was very thick indeed.
More scrambling. Then he caught sight of the nest and redoubled his
efforts. But when he was nearly up to it he reached up his arm, and
without the slightest fear that he might be bitten as his companion had
been, thrust his huge hand into it. The result was a savage exclamation.
Angrily he seized the empty nest, tore it out, and sent it flying down as
he had done the other.
By this time the others were a little tired of waiting, and began to
scatter out from the tree to try to spy us themselves. Common sense must
have told them that we had only left the nest when we heard them, and
could not be far, and that we could probably be seen somewhere in the
surrounding boughs. A few moments’ suspense, and then the awful warning
shout again told us we were discovered. The man was still in the tree,
though some way below, and by pointing and gesticulations they directed
him where to go to find us. So he came panting up again, the thinner
branches swaying and rustling beneath his weight. After a very few
moments his head appeared in the greenery below. He was of a different
type from the others, taller, black-haired, and sallow-faced. It did not
take him many seconds to see us, and he quickly pulled himself up towards
us.
With his eyes fixed on mother, he came rapidly upwards. Mother crouched
where she was on a small branch, very close to the extreme summit of the
tree, watching our enemy’s every movement. By a lucky chance the main
stem hid us three youngsters from his sight. I think that father and
mother must have purposely placed themselves on the other side from us
with the express object of drawing the boy’s attention away from their
helpless babies.
When he drew near he paused, and pulling a red cotton handkerchief from
his pocket, deliberately wrapped it round one hand. Then, getting a good
grip with the other, he edged outwards and made a sudden rapid grasp at
mother. My heart almost stopped as I saw the great hand extended. But
quick as he was, no human can hope to rival the lightning action of a
squirrel’s muscles, and before the grasping hand touched her the little
lithe red body flew into the air as though driven by a spring, and,
flashing downwards, landed fully twenty feet below, and disappeared into
the thickest part of the tree.
With a violent exclamation the tormentor turned his attention to father,
who was only a foot or two further away, and crouching on the extreme
outer end of a bough. Evidently he intended to make sure of him, for
he worked himself round so as to get between father and the tree, and
managed it so well that he seemed to me to have cut off all chance of
escape. I think he must have actually touched father’s tail, when the
most unexpected thing happened. Instead of jumping outwards, which, as
the bough tip projected a good way, would in all probability have ended
in a fall to the ground, into the very hands of the three watchers below,
father leaped straight towards the boy, landing actually on his shoulder.
This startled him so much that he very nearly let go altogether, and if
I had not been in such a panic I could have laughed at his fright. Then,
before the boy could recover himself, another quick bound, and father was
out on another branch, ten feet away, quite out of reach of his would-be
captor.
[Illustration: FATHER LEAPED STRAIGHT TOWARDS THE BOY LANDING ACTUALLY ON
HIS SHOULDER]
A torrent of language worse than any magpie’s burst from the fellow’s
lips, as he turned and scrambled after father again. He might as well
have tried to catch a will-o’-the-wisp. Every time he got near enough
to make a snatch, father would make another nimble jump, all the time
artfully luring his pursuer lower down the tree and away from our
hiding-place.
The game went on for a good ten minutes, and by the end of that time the
enemy was dripping with perspiration and speechless with fury. His rage
was increased by the jeers of his friends below. At last he gave it up,
having made up his mind it was not much of a game to be made a fool of by
a squirrel and mocked by the onlookers.
He dropped quickly from bough to bough, and presently I heard his heavy
boots thud on the ground. But before he had reached the foot of the tree,
both our parents were back with us. Then the sound of loud wrangling came
up to us. Surely now they would go; but no! we were not safe yet.
There was further talk, and then the whole four spread out in a circle
round the fir-tree. Presently, with a loud whizzing sound, some heavy
object came hurtling up past us. It struck a twig near the summit of the
tree and clipped it like a bullet. Thud! Another struck the main stem
just below us with a force that sent the bark flying in a shower. Then
we saw what those lead-weighted canes were for.
A third squailer passed only a few inches above father’s head. He called
to mother:
‘They’ll kill us if we stop here. Come along; take Hazel and follow me.’
In an instant he had snatched me up and was scuttling down the trunk. It
was wonderful how exactly he knew which branch-end stretched furthest
towards the spruce which was our next neighbour. Out along it he ran, and
using the natural spring of the bough to help him, made a gallant leap
outwards and downwards, legs and tail wide spread to assist him in his
flight.
The air hissed past my ears, and then with a little thud we landed safely
in the spruce. But his gallant jump had been seen by those greedy eyes,
and excited shouts came from below.
Then—ah, even now I can hardly bear to speak of it! As father was in the
very act of running up the branch towards the thick centre of the tree
and comparative safety, there came a cruel thud, and he and I together
were whirling through the air.
Crash! we came to the ground with a shock that knocked my small senses
out of me, and before I could pick myself up a hard hand had closed over
me. I turned and, with the instinct of despair, fixed my teeth deep in a
horny finger. There was a yell, and I was again flung to the ground with
a force that almost killed me. I knew no more for many minutes, and when
I woke again to stunned and aching misery, I was lying helpless in a sort
of bag, which smelt horribly of something which I now know to have been
tobacco. The bag was being shaken up and down with a steady swing; but
I, almost beside myself with pain and flight, did not attempt to move or
free myself.
Suddenly the motion stopped abruptly, and the hand was poked cautiously
into the bag. It was carefully protected this time by a handkerchief, but
I had no longer spirit left to bite. Out I was pulled and held up before
the gaze of all the four robbers, who were seated at ease on a mossy bank
on the outer side of the hedge close by the gate of our coppice. The
very first thing that my eyes fell upon was the body of my poor father
lying limp upon the bank, his white waistcoat dabbled with crimson stains
and his brilliant black eyes closed in death. I felt a cold shiver run
through me, and the stupor of despair clutched my beating heart. I hardly
even had strength left to wonder what had become of my dear mother and
my brother and sister.
They passed me from one coarse hot hand to another, and their voices grew
louder and louder as they disputed who should have possession of me.
They then went on to blows, when suddenly the quarrel was brought to an
abrupt end in a most startling fashion.
Leaping over the hedge out of the coppice behind came two tall,
smart-looking boys, a startling contrast to the four loutish hobbledehoys
around poor little me.
One of them, pointing at me, demanded in a ringing voice where they had
got me from.
Three of the four cads stood sheepishly regarding the new-comers, and
said never a word; but the one who had climbed the tree faced them boldly
enough, answering impudently.
The new-comer strode up to him. He was evidently master here, and the
others were trespassing, and they knew it, for they slunk back. Yet, in
reply to his reiterated commands, the lout who was boldest snatched me
up and refused to part with me. He was so big and strong that he seemed
a giant, and I felt I should die there and then. I closed my eyes and
gave myself up, but in a minute I was down on the bank once more, and
the two—the new-comer and the great rough fellow—were fighting hard, with
coats off and red faces.
The sound of the blows that followed, the tramping of feet, the hard
breathing of the combatants, nearly deprived me of the few senses that
remained to me, and I noticed little of the details of the fight—only
it seemed to last a long time, and once I saw the schoolboy flat on his
back. But he was up almost as soon as down, and they were at it again
hammer and tongs.
The giant made a rush head down, like a bull, but the other jumped back,
and there followed a rattle of blows as my champion’s fists got home on
the lout’s hard head. But the squire’s son did not wholly escape. The
huge fist that had grasped me so roughly caught him on the right cheek
and drove him back.
One of my champion’s eyes was closing, his right cheek was turning livid,
and there was blood on his broad white collar when they faced one another
again. But the ruffian for his part, though not so badly marked, was
breathing like a fat pug dog and seemed unsteady on his legs. To do the
fellow justice, he had pluck, for he wasted no time in making a last
attempt to rush his opponent. For a few moments it was all that the other
could do to guard his head against the swinging fists. Then—it was all so
quick that one could hardly see what happened—there was a crack like the
sound two rams make when they charge one another, and the giant tottered
for a moment, his arms waving wildly, then fell like a log and lay quite
still.
The other new-comer counted loud and slowly ‘One—two—three—four’—up to
ten. But the fellow on the ground did not move.
‘That’s the finish,’ he said.
He turned to where I lay, with hardly a breath in me, a little limp body,
and picking me up, handled me tenderly.
Terrified as I was, the change was grateful to my miserable, aching
little body. He offered me to the victor in the fight, who had by this
time got into his coat again, but he declined.
‘Put him in your pocket, Harry,’ he said to his brother. ‘My hands are
too hot to hold him.’
He was quite right. Let me here give a word of advice to all those humans
who keep any of my race as pets. Don’t hold us in your hands. In the
first place, it frightens us desperately, and in the second, it is bad
for us. A squirrel rarely lives long in captivity if he is constantly
handled. I speak from experience, and I can assure you that, much as I
grew to love my dear master and my other human friends, I was never happy
in their hands, though I never minded being kept in their pockets.
Harry put me carefully in the inside pocket of his jacket. It was dark
and warm, and, utterly exhausted, I curled up and lay quiet, and so I was
carried away and left the home of my babyhood. It was long before I saw
it again.