Then he gave a sudden low cry of warning, and instinctively I followed him as he bounded back into the thick of the hedge just as a hen sparrow-hawk stooped like a falling stone out of the blue above, reaching the grass by a tuft of gorse a little way out in the field. There was a sharp cry, cut short almost before it was uttered, and then the feathered robber rose again, bearing in her crooked talons the struggling form of a linnet. A few small feathers floated away through the still, warm air, and all was over. The hawk sailed away towards a distant tree with her meal tight clutched between her claws. It was long since I had seen one of these everyday woodland tragedies, and it made me realize with a shock that now I had myself only to depend upon, with no strong human hand to aid me. Frightened and unhappy, I followed Rusty quietly back into the heart of the coppice, and that night saw me one of a furry ball of four, curled in a hole in the heart of the great beech. CHAPTER VI A NARROW ESCAPE I did not forget my master and settle down to my old out-door life at once. Every morning for many days I visited the gate at the end of the wood-path, and sat there or in the hedge beside it, straining my eyes across the meadow in the hope that Jack might come back once more. But never a sign of him or Harry did I see, and though, as the leaves began to fall, it was quite easy to view the roof of the Hall across the shrubberies, no smoke rose from the tall, twisted red-brick chimney-stacks. How good mother was to me in those days I well remember. She encouraged me to tell her all I could of the Hall and its people, and all the incidents of my captivity, and she alone of my family seemed thoroughly to sympathize with me in my longing for my lost master. Hazel, too, was very dear and good, and would listen with the greatest interest to my long yarns. She was a sweet little thing in those days, very small, but extremely well built and active, and, for a young squirrel, of a peculiarly rich colour. Rusty, however, had little sympathy with my longings. He was already a large, powerful squirrel of an extremely independent turn of mind, and most extraordinarily bold and fearless. Mother was in a constant state of anxiety about him, for he would go off on long expeditions quite alone, sometimes not coming home till nearly sunset, and ever since father’s death mother had been nervous as a hare when any of her children were out of her sight.