anches
that they might have used.

I had the good fortune one morning to see Meeko, the patriarch, make a
new path for himself that none of the others ever followed so long as
I was in the dormitory. He had a home den over a hallway, and a hiding
place for acorns in a hollow linden. Between the two was a driveway; but
though the branches arched over it from either side, the jump was too
great for him to take. A hundred times I saw him run out on the farthest
oak twig and look across longingly at the maple that swayed on the other
side. It was perhaps three feet away, with no branches beneath to seize
and break his fall in case he missed his spring, altogether too much for
a red squirrel to attempt. He would rush out as if determined to try it,
time after time, but always his courage failed him; he had to go down
the oak trunk and cross the driveway on the ground, where numberless
straying dogs were always ready to chase him.

One morning I saw him run twice in succession at the jump, only to turn
back. But the air was keen and bracing, and he felt its inspiration. He
drew farther back, then came rushing along the oak branch and, before he
had time to be afraid, hurled himself across the chasm. He landed fairly
on the maple twig, with several inches to spare, and hung there with
claws and teeth, swaying up and down gloriously. Then, chattering his
delight at himself, he ran down the maple, back across the driveway, and
tried the jump three times in succession to be sure he could do it.

After that he sprang across frequently. But I noticed that whenever the
branches were wet with rain or sleet he never attempted it; and he never
tried the return jump, which was uphill, and which he seemed to know by
instinct was too much to attempt.

When I began feeding him, in the cold winter days, he showed me many
curious bits of his life. First I put some nuts near the top of an old
well, among the stones of which he used to hide things in the autumn.
Long after he had eaten all his store he used to come and search the
crannies among the stones to see if perchance he had overlooked any
trifles. When he found a handful of shagbarks, one morning, in a hole
only a foot below the surface, his astonishment knew no bounds. His
first thought was that he had forgotten them all these hungry days, and
he promptly ate the biggest of the store within sight, a thing I never
saw a squirrel do before. His second thought--I could see it in his