Part 13 (1/2)

The squirrel was in a terrible fright, till Bevis promised not to repeat anything.

”But,” said he, ”you have not told me the secret.”

”No,” said the squirrel, ”but I very nearly did, and only just stopped in time. Why, if the trees heard it, they would pa.s.s it from one to the other in a moment. Dear, dear!” He sat down, he was so frightened he could not frisk about. But Bevis stroked him down, and soothed him, and said he had the most lovely silky tail in the world, and this brought him to himself again.

”All this comes,” said the squirrel, ”of my having run up the wrong side of the tree first this morning. Take care, Bevis dear, that you too do not make a mistake, and put the wrong foot first out of bed when you get up.” Bevis laughed at this, and asked which was his wrong foot. ”Well,”

said the squirrel, ”the fact is, it depends: sometimes it is one, and sometimes it is the other, and that is the difficulty, to know which it is, and makes all the difference in life. The very best woman I ever knew (and she was a farmer's wife) always, when she was out walking, put one foot before the other, and so was always right.”

”Nonsense,” said Bevis, ”how could she walk without putting one foot before the other?”

”Oh, yes,” said the squirrel, ”many people, though they think they put one foot before the other, really keep the wrong foot foremost all the time. But do you remember to-morrow morning when you get up.”

”I do not see what difference it can make,” said Bevis.

”If you put one foot out first,” said the squirrel, ”it will very likely lead you to the looking-gla.s.s, where you will see yourself and forget all the rest, and you will do one sort of thing that day; and if you put the other out first it will lead you to the window, and then you will see something, and you will think about that, and do another sort of thing; and if you put both feet out of bed together they will take you to the door, and there you will meet somebody, who will say something, and you will do another kind of thing. So you see it is a very important matter, and this woman, as I said, was the best that ever lived.”

”No she wasn't,” said Bevis, ”she was not half so good as my mother is.”

”That is true, dear,” said the squirrel. ”Your mother is the very best of all. But don't forget about your feet to-morrow morning, dear.”

”Look up,” said Bevis, ”and tell me what bird that is.”

The squirrel looked up, and saw a bird going over at a great height.

”That is a peewit,” he said. ”He is a messenger; you can see how fast and straight he is flying. He is bringing some news, I feel sure, about Choo Hoo. Kapchack sent an out-post of peewits over the hills to watch Choo Hoo's movements, and to let him know directly if he began to gather his army together. Depend upon it, dear, there is some very important news. I must tell the woodp.e.c.k.e.r, and he will find out; he is very clever at that.” The squirrel began to get restless, though he did not like to tell Bevis to go.

”You promised to tell me about Choo Hoo,” said Bevis.

”So I did,” said the squirrel, ”and if you will come to-morrow I will do so; I am rather in a hurry just now.”

”Very well,” said Bevis, ”I will come to-morrow. Now show me the way to the felled tree.” As they were going Bevis recollected the weasel, and asked if he was really so ill he could not move, but was obliged to lick his paw to cure the pain.

The squirrel laughed. ”No,” he whispered; ”don't you say I said so: the truth is, the weasel is as well as you or I, and now the council is broken up I daresay he is running about as quickly as he likes. And, Bevis dear, stoop down and I'll tell you (Bevis stooped), the fact is, he was at the council all the time.”

”But I never saw him,” said Bevis, ”and he never said anything.”

”No,” whispered the squirrel very quietly, ”he wanted to hear what they said without being present; he was in the elm all the time; you know, dear, that malice-minded elm on the other side of the raspberries, which I told you was rotten inside. He lives there in that hole; there is a way into it level with the ground; that is his secret hiding-place.”

”I will bring my cannon-stick to-morrow,” said Bevis, delighted to have discovered where the weasel lived at last, ”and I will shoot into the hole and kill him.”

”I could not let you do that,” said the squirrel. ”I do not allow any fighting, or killing, in my copse, and that is the reason all the birds and animals come here to hold their meetings, because they know it is a sanctuary. If you shoot off your cannon the birds are sure to hear it, and you will not be present at any more of their meetings, and you will not hear any more of the story. Therefore it would be very foolish of you to shoot off your cannon; you must wait, Bevis dear, till you can catch the weasel outside my copse, and then you may shoot him as much as you like.”

”Very well,” said Bevis, rather sulkily, ”I will not shoot him in the hole if you do not want me to. But how could the weasel have been in the elm all the time, when the humble-bee said he found him lying in the suns.h.i.+ne on a bank licking his paw?”

”Why, of course he told the humble-bee to say that.”

”What a cheater he is, isn't he?” said Bevis. ”And how did you find out where he lived? I looked everywhere for him, and so did Pan--Pan sniffed and sniffed, but could not find him.”

”Nor could I,” said the squirrel. ”After you shot the--I mean after the unfortunate business with the thrush, he kept out of the way, knowing that you had vowed vengeance against him, and although I go about a good deal, and peep into so many odd corners, I could not discover his whereabouts, till the little tree-climber told me. You know the tree-climber, dear, you have seen him in your orchard at home; he goes all round and round the trees, and listens at every c.h.i.n.k, and so he learns almost all the secrets. He heard the weasel in the elm, and came at once and told me. Here is the timber, and there is the dragon-fly.