his body when
he was walking or running so as to hardly show and wasn't in the way at
all.

"'Now,' said she, 'climb that tall tree over yonder clear to the top and
then jump with all your might for that tree over there across that open
place.'

"It was ten times as far as little Mr. Squirrel ever had jumped before,
and the tree was so tall that he felt sure that he would break his neck
when he struck the ground. He was afraid, very much afraid. But Old
Mother Nature had told him to do it. He knew that he ought to trust her.
So he climbed the tall tree. It was a frightful distance down to the
ground, and that other tree was so far away that it was foolish to even
think of reaching it.

"'Jump!' commanded Old Mother Nature.

"Little Mr. Squirrel gulped very hard, trying to swallow his fear. Then
he jumped with all his might, and just as he had taught himself to do,
spread himself out as flat as he could. Just imagine how surprised he
was and how tickled when he just coasted down on the air clear across
the open place and landed as lightly as a feather on the foot of that
distant tree! You see, the skin between his legs when he spread them out
had kept him from falling straight down. Of course if he hadn't jumped
with all his might, as Old Mother Nature had told him to, even though he
thought it wouldn't be of any use, he wouldn't have reached that other
tree.

"He was so delighted that he wanted to do it right over again, but he
didn't forget his manners. He first thanked Old Mother Nature.

"She smiled. 'See that you keep out of danger, for that is why I have
made you the greatest jumper in the Green Forest,' said she.

"Little Mr. Squirrel did. People who, like Peter, did not use their
eyes, thought that he could fly, and he was called the Flying Squirrel.
He was the great-great-ever-so-great-grandfather of Timmy whom you both
know."

"And Timmy doesn't really fly at all, does he?" asked Jimmy Skunk.

"Certainly not. He jumps and slides on the air," replied Grandfather
Frog.

"What did I tell you?" cried Jimmy triumphantly to Peter.

"Well, anyway, it's next thing to flying. I wish I could do it," replied
Peter.

IX

HOW MR. WEASEL WAS MADE AN OUTCAST

IX

HOW MR. WEASEL WAS MADE AN OUTCAST

Chatterer the Red Squirrel peered down from the edge of an old nest
built long ago in a bi