the top of the tree.

He secured his hold upon the small branch that had luckily intercepted
his fall, and sat perfectly still. In a moment more I saw a weasel--one
of the smaller red varieties--come down the trunk of the tree, and begin
exploring the branches on a level with the chipmunk.

I saw in a moment what had happened. The weasel had driven the squirrel
from his retreat in the rocks and stones beneath, and had pressed him
so closely that he had taken refuge in the top of a tree. But weasels
can climb trees, too, and this one had tracked the frightened chipmunk
to the topmost branch, where he had tried to seize him. Then the
squirrel had, in horror, let go his hold, screamed, and fallen through
the air, till he struck the branch as just described. Now his
bloodthirsty enemy was looking for him again, apparently relying
entirely upon his sense of smell to guide him to the game.

How did the weasel know the squirrel had not fallen clear to the ground?
He certainly did know, for when he reached the same tier of branches he
began exploring them. The chipmunk sat transfixed with fear, frozen with
terror, not twelve feet away, and yet the weasel saw him not.

Round and round, up and down, he went on the branches, exploring them
over and over. How he hurried, lest the trail get cold! How subtle and
cruel and fiendish he looked! His snakelike movements, his tenacity, his
speed!

He seemed baffled; he knew his game was near, but he could not strike
the spot. The branch, upon the extreme end of which the squirrel sat,
ran out and up from the tree seven or eight feet, and then, turning a
sharp elbow, swept down and out at right angles with its first course.

The weasel would pause each time at this elbow and turn back. It seemed
as if he knew that particular branch held his prey, and yet its
crookedness each time threw him out. He would not give it up, but went
over his course again and again.

One can fancy the feelings of the chipmunk, sitting there in plain view
a few feet away, watching his deadly enemy hunting for the clue. How his
little heart must have fairly stood still each time the fatal branch was
struck! Probably as a last resort he would again have let go his hold
and fallen to the ground, where he might have eluded his enemy a while
longer.

In the course of five or six minutes the weasel gave over the search,
and ran hurriedly down the tree to the ground. The chipmunk remained
motionless for a long t