The Blowing away of Mr. Bushy Tail [Illustration] THE BLOWING AWAY OF MR. BUSHY TAIL _By_ EDITH B. DAVIDSON _Pictures by_ CLARA E. ATWOOD [Illustration] NEW YORK DUFFIELD AND COMPANY 1910 [Illustration: Copyright, 1910 By Duffield & Co.] [Illustration: To my kind hostess at Highwood, within whose hospitable gates it was written, this little story is dedicated by the Author] [Illustration: CONTENTS] i. AND WHEN SHE GOT THERE THE CUPBOARD WAS BARE 9 ii. NOT A CREATURE WAS STIRRING, NOT EVEN A MOUSE 21 iii. MR. BUSHY TAIL GOES TOBOGGANING 29 iv. ON THE WINGS OF THE NORTH WIND 39 v. AT THE TOP OF THE SOUTH POLE 51 vi. A QUILLY ACQUAINTANCE 63 vii. THE SNORTLING OF THE RING-TAILED SNORTER 75 viii. THE GENTLE SOUTH WIND 87 And when she got there The cupboard was bare [Illustration] [Illustration: Chapter I “_And when she got there The cupboard was bare_--”] It had been an exceptionally cold winter, and Mr. and Mrs. Bushy Tail had found it very difficult to keep themselves and their two small children warm. They had finally moved into Grandmother Chipmunk’s house tree, which seemed to be more protected from the high winds and the heavy snow-storms, than their own pretty little nest. The rooms were rather small, however, and Grandmother Chipmunk snored most awfully, so that for several nights Baby Bushy Tail could not sleep. [Illustration] One cold snowy day, Mrs. Bushy Tail came into the living-room with a very sober face. [Illustration: Grandma Chipmunk] “My dear,” she said to her husband, “the acorns and pine-cones are nearly gone, and with the exception of a few dried apples and lettuce leaves, there is nothing left in the cupboard.” “Ttt, Ttt,” said Grandma Chipmunk, laying down her knitting, and looking over her spectacles. “Whatever shall we do? Starve?” Thereupon little Frisky, the oldest boy, set up a fearsome squeaking, for he liked good things to eat, and did not want to starve. Of course that started the baby off, and for a few moments no one could hear themselves think, much less talk. Frisky having been sent out of the room, and the baby being pacified with an acorn-cup to play with, Mr. Bushy Tail spoke: “There’s only one thing to do;” said he, “go across the frozen pond, and through the woods, to either my cousin Red Squirrel’s or else to the Chipmunks’. They will gladly lend me corn or oats enough to feed us for another month, and by that time let us hope that Spring will have come.”