e than merely part. They
curl, upwards from the root, downwards to the point, and form a plume.

The plume is a natural parachute, not so obvious, perhaps, as in the
squirrel's case, but, weight for weight, of equal service.

His feet? Ten toes behind and eight before, sharp-pointed toes that grip
the slenderest twig, and catch the slightest foothold in the bark.

His ears? Small, say the books. Not small, but rather hidden in the deep
surrounding fur.

Had you seen the dormouse at the moment of his final awakening, you might
have recognized him from this description. A few minutes later and the
grey, flitting shadow might easily have baffled you. For, as he reached
the surface of his nest, the sun went down.

[Illustration: SHARP-POINTED TOES THAT CATCH THE SLIGHTEST FOOTHOLD IN THE
BARK.]

Before him, at last, lay the twilight world he loved. Nature had ceased
her noise and commenced her melody. From the brook below came the dull
plash of the rising trout; now and then one could catch a stealthy rustle
in the herbage--the beetles were abroad, ay and the mice and the beasts
of prey; a hare paced by with easy lilting stride; his gentle footfall
hardly stirred the dust. In the distance sounded the cry of a lost soul.
It was the barn owl starting on her rounds. The dormouse cowered back
until she passed--white--gleaming, swift and silent as a moth.

There was no discordant note. Wood, meadow, and hedgerow were bathed in
liquid blue. The very tree trunks stood out as indigo against the sky.
Daisy and marigold, hyacinth and clover were attuned to the same soothing
minor chord. The work-a-day world was at rest, but the sleep-a-day world
was holding high revel.

Before he was halfway down the stump he had caught the glint of twenty
pairs of eyes. The voles and wood-mice had waited, like himself, until the
owl had passed. Before each tuft of grass now stood its latest tenant.
From beneath the root of a neighbouring hazel came a stealthy procession
of five bank voles. Each, as it gained the entrance, performed its normal
round. First it sniffed for weasel, then it sat up and washed its face,
then it sniffed again, finally it stole off, foraging among the
grass-stems. He saw his friend the shrewmouse scuffling with its mate;
he saw the wood-mice nut-grubbing; he saw the night reunion of the
stump-tailed voles; but the first of his own kind that he saw was mother.

[Illustration: IT WAS THE SAME SOFT FUR THAT HE HAD NEST