The life story of a squirrelBridges, T. C. (Thomas Charles)
General
The life story of a squirrel
Bridges, T. C. (Thomas Charles)
Squirrels -- Juvenile fiction; Squirrels -- Juvenile literature
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account