is axe. Of Simmo and his axe Meeko had a mortal
dread, which I could not understand till one day when I paddled silently
back to camp and, instead of coming up the path, sat idly in my canoe
watching the Indian, who had broken his one pipe and now sat making
another out of a chunk of black alder and a length of nanny bush. Simmo
was as interesting to watch, in his way, as any of the wood folk.

Presently Meeko came down, chattering his curiosity at seeing the Indian
so still and so occupied. A red squirrel is always unhappy unless he
knows all about everything. He watched from the nearest tree for a
while, but could not make up his mind what was doing. Then he came down
on the ground and advanced a foot at a time, jumping up continually but
coming down in the same spot, barking to make Simmo turn his head and
show his hand. Simmo watched out of the corner of his eye until Meeko
was near a solitary tree which stood in the middle of the camp ground,
when he jumped up suddenly and rushed at the squirrel, who sprang to the
tree and ran to a branch out of reach, snickering and jeering.

Simmo took his axe deliberately and swung it mightily at the foot of
the tree, as if to chop it down; only he hit the trunk with the head,
not the blade of his weapon. At the first blow, which made his toes
tingle, Meeko stopped jeering and ran higher. Simmo swung again and
Meeko went up another notch. So it went on, Simmo looking up intently
to see the effect and Meeko running higher after each blow, until the
tiptop was reached. Then Simmo gave a mighty whack; the squirrel leaped
far out and came to the ground, sixty feet below; picked himself up,
none the worse for his leap, and rushed scolding away to his nest. Then
Simmo said umpfh! like a bear, and went back to his pipemaking. He had
not smiled nor relaxed the intent expression of his face during the
whole little comedy.

I found out afterwards that making Meeko jump from a tree top is one of
the few diversions of Indian children. I tried it myself many times
with many squirrels, and found to my astonishment that a jump from any
height, however great, is no concern to a squirrel, red or gray. They
have a way of flattening the body and bushy tail against the air, which
breaks their fall. Their bodies, and especially their bushy tails, have
a curious tremulous motion, like the quiver of wings, as they come down.
The flying squirrel's sailing down from a tree top to another tree,
fifty f