There was worse to follow. One fine morning, some days later, Sable actually consented to come and play down on the grass. We were enjoying a fine game when, all of a sudden, a strange squirrel, one I had hardly seen before—he came from a family who lived quite at the other end of the coppice—appeared on the scene, and, running up to my lady as coolly as you please— ‘Good morning, Sable,’ he said, without so much as looking at me. ‘Won’t you come up to the fir-trees? I know where there are some specially tender shoots.’ This was a little too much for me. ‘Who in hazel-nuts are you?’ I inquired, coming up with my brush straight over my head and all my teeth showing. The beggar pretended not to see me, and began talking to Sable again. Well, if he didn’t see me he felt me, and pretty quickly, too. I went for him on the spot, rolled him over, and got my front teeth well home in his ear. For a minute it was hammer and tongs. We whirled round and round, the fur flying in every direction. He was strong, and snapped viciously, but I never let go, and though he marked me once, the end of it was that he was only too glad to break away and run. I chased him for some distance, and then came back, only to find that Sable had calmly gone home. I was so cross with her that I left her alone for the rest of that day, sulking by myself up in the fir-trees. What made it worse was that Rusty came and laughed at me mercilessly. ‘You don’t catch _me_ playing the fool like that,’ he jeered. ‘A bachelor life’s good enough for me, thank you.’ Next day Sable was as sweet as sugar, and we agreed to be married and set up house together. The next great question was the location of our future home. During the past winter I had seen so plainly how great were the advantages of a hole in a trunk that I quite determined to find similar quarters. As I have said before, I knew the coppice from end to end, and it struck me that there was a beech-tree not far from the gate which might suit us. So off we went to have a look at it. On the way we noticed two squirrels fighting savagely on the ground, with a third sitting demurely by, and watching the combat. I had seen half a dozen such fights in the past few days, and did not pay much attention, but Sable suddenly stopped and sat up straight. ‘Don’t you see who it is, Scud?’ she exclaimed, intensely amused. I looked again, and to my utter astonishment, who should the topmost of the two be but my brother Rusty. ‘My whiskers, but I’m sorry for the other!’ I laughed. Rusty was a terrific fighter, and, indeed, we had not long to wait before his rival broke and ran for dear life, Rusty after him.