He found a splendid nest made of leaves and strips of inner bark in the hollow stub of a big branch of a chestnut-tree, and he made up his mind that there was where he would sleep. Then he ran over to see Chatterer again. He found him scolding at a cat who watched him with yellow, unblinking eyes. Chatterer would run down the trunk of the tree almost to the ground, and there scold and call names as fast as his tongue could go. Then he would run back up to the lowest branch and scold from there. The next time he would go a little farther down. Finally he leaped to the ground, and raced across to another tree. The cat sprang, but was just too late. Chatterer jeered at her. Then he began the same thing over again, and kept at it until finally the cat gave up and left in disgust. It had been exciting, but Tommy shivered at the thought of what might have happened. “Ever try that with a fox?” asked Chatterer. “No,” replied Tommy. “I have!” boasted Chatterer. “But I’ve seen squirrels caught doing it,” he said. “Still, I suppose one may as well be caught by a fox as by a hawk.” “Did you see that weasel this morning?” asked Tommy. Chatterer actually shivered as he replied: “Yes, I saw him after you. It’s a wonder he didn’t get you. You’re lucky! I was lucky myself this morning, for a mink went right past where I was hiding. Life is nothing but one jump after another these days. It seems as if, when one has worked as hard as I did last fall to store up enough food to keep me all winter, I ought to be allowed to enjoy it in comfort. “Those who sleep all winter, like Johnny Chuck, have a mighty easy time of it. They don’t know when they are well off. Still, I’d hate to miss all the excitement and fun of life. I would rather jump for my life twenty times a day as I have to, and know that I’m alive, than to be alive and not know it. See that dog down there? I hate dogs! I’m going to tell him so.” Off raced Chatterer to bark and scold at a little black-and-white dog which paid no attention to him at all. The shadows were creeping through the trees, and Tommy began to think of his nest. He looked once more at Chatterer, who was racing along the top of the old wall scolding at the dog. Suddenly what seemed like merely a darker shadow swept over Chatterer, and, when it had passed, he had vanished. For once, that fatal once, he had been careless. Hooty the Owl had caught him. Tommy shivered. He was frightened and cold. He would get to his nest as quickly as he could. He leaped down to a great gray stone, and--behold, he wasn’t a squirrel at all! He was just a boy sitting on a big stone, with a heap of Christmas greens at his feet. He shivered, for he was cold. Then he jumped up and stamped his feet and threshed his arms. A million diamond points glittered in the white meadows where the snow crystals splintered the sunbeams. From the Old Orchard sounded the sharp scolding chirr and cough of Chatterer the Red Squirrel.