TOO LATE CHATTERER IS SORRY
Of yourself to hold command
Keep your temper well in hand.
_Mother Bear._
The best laid plans, even those of the smartest of Red Squirrels,
sometimes go wrong. Chatterer’s plan had gone wrong, just about as
wrong as it could go. Those provoking twins, instead of being scared
into falling or scrambling down from that tree, had been made angry and
actually were starting after him. Boxer started first and Woof-Woof
promptly followed. You know whatever Boxer did, Woof-Woof did.
Now Chatterer hadn’t reckoned on any such thing as this happening. Not
at all. And like most people who try to scare babies, Chatterer is not
at all brave. Most of his bravery is in his tongue. For just an instant
he was too surprised to move. Even his tongue was still. Then he turned
and ran up that tree as fast as he could.
The twins came scrambling after, and they came surprisingly fast. You
see, there were plenty of branches to hold on to, so they had no fear
of falling. Chatterer was so scared that he didn’t use those usually
quick wits of his, and he ran up past the only branch of that tree that
reached out near enough to another tree for him to jump across. When
he thought of it, it was too late. Yes, sir, it was too late. Boxer was
already standing on that very branch.
Chatterer felt then that he was trapped. He couldn’t jump across to
another tree. He didn’t dare try to get down past those twins. He
wouldn’t think of jumping down to the ground, unless he was actually
obliged to, for it was a dreadful jump. All he could do was to climb
higher and hope those twins would be afraid to follow him.
But by this time Boxer and Woof-Woof were enjoying the chase. They were
enjoying the fun of climbing, and they were enjoying the discovery that
they were no longer afraid of this saucy, red-coated scamp, but that
he was afraid of them.
“See him run!” cried Boxer. “Come on, Woof-Woof, let’s catch him! He is
so small and quick that he can get about faster than we can, but we are
two and he is only one. Between us we ought to be able to catch him.”
Woof-Woof was quite willing, and they climbed on up after Chatterer.
Chatterer’s tongue was still now. He made no sound. He no longer called
names. He no longer made faces. He no longer looked saucy or impudent.
He looked exactly what he was, a badly scared Red Squirrel. He was
sorry now that he had lost his temper and tried to scare those twins.
He was very, very sorry. But it was too late. Being sorry didn’t help
him any now.
He was in a bad scrape, was Chatterer, and he knew it. Either of those
twin Bears was much bigger than he, although they were little more than
babies. They had found him out and had already discovered that they had
nothing to fear from him and that he was afraid of them. It was plain
to see that they were having a good time. They were enjoying the chase.
Chatterer looked down at their sharp little claws and more than ever he
was sorry he had not let them alone.
By this time Chatterer was clinging to the very top of that tree. If
those twins came up there, he would have to make the terrible jump
to the ground. He shivered as he looked down. Would those surprising
twins, or one of them, be able to get up near enough to reach him?