reached a
distant bough, when his fierce pursuer, who must have leaped at the
same instant, alighted on the very spot he had just quitted. And now
between these two animals, so unequally matched in strength and size,
you might have seen a most exciting and hardly contested race; the
squirrel doing his utmost to secure his safety, by reaching his hole,
and the wild-cat following with terrible eagerness, in hopes of
obtaining a most delicate and favourite morsel for her supper. Had they
both started fairly, I think that the fierce beast would have had no
chance of overtaking her prey; but, as I have mentioned, she was
between the squirrel and his fortress when the chase began, so that he
could not run at once to his only place of refuge.

Poor Brush! he was hardly pressed indeed, and several times, when he
found his retreat to his hole cut off, he gave himself up for lost.
He owed his safety at last, not to his wonderful agility alone, but
also to his _lightness_, which enabled him to pass over the smaller
branches that would have bent or broken with the weight of his enemy.
To keep you no longer in suspense, you must know, then, that the poor
breathless terrified squirrel reached his hole at last, and no sooner
was he safe within it, than an immense paw, furnished with terribly
sharp, hooked claws, was thrust in as far as it could reach, and Brush
could see the light of those horrid, yellow-green eyes, gleaming in
upon him through the narrow opening. He even fancied he could smell her
hot tainted breath, as she growled with rage and disappointment.

"Baulked, Mrs. Wild-cat! Exactly three seconds too late, Mrs. Tabby!
Yes, Madam, if you had reached the hole only three seconds earlier, you
would have made a very nice supper of poor Brush, and his nest would
that night have contained a sorrowful widow and four fatherless
children. A little too late, I am happy to say, Mrs. Tabby! Only a very
little too late, but 'a miss is as good as a mile,' as people say.
What! you are in a terrible rage now, are you? And you will growl, and
spit, and try to thrust your great ugly head into a hole only just
large enough for the slender body of Brush to pass easily through it.
There! you may do your worst, and when you have tired yourself, you may
go and look for a supper elsewhere, only I cannot possibly wish that
good luck may attend upon your hunting. One thing I _squirrels_ wish
though, that Harvey was under the tree just now with his