Simmo was as interesting to watch, in his way, as any of the wood
folk.
Presently Meeko came down, chattering his curiosity at seeing the
Indian so still and so occupied. A red squirrel is always unhappy
unless he knows all about everything. He watched from the nearest
tree for a while, but could not make up his mind what was doing.
Then he came down on the ground and advanced a foot at a time,
jumping up continually but coming down in the same spot, barking
to make Simmo turn his head and show his hand. Simmo watched out
of the corner of his eye until Meeko was near a solitary tree
which stood in the middle of the camp ground, when he jumped up
suddenly and rushed at the squirrel, who sprang to the tree and
ran to a branch out of reach, snickering and jeering.
Simmo took his axe deliberately and swung it mightily at the foot
of the tree, as if to chop it down; only he hit the trunk with
the head, not,the blade of his weapon. At the first blow, which
made his toes tingle, Meeko stopped jeering and ran higher. Simmo
swung again and Meeko went up another notch. So it went on, Simmo
looking up intently to see the effect and Meeko running higher
after each blow, until the tiptop was reached. Then Simmo gave a
mighty whack; the squirrel leaped far out and came to the
ground, sixty feet below; picked himself up, none the worse for
his leap, and rushed scolding away to his nest.
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