PEDLAR: "WELL, WHAT DO YOU WANT?-A HIGH COLLAR OR A SHOULDER-BRACE? A GREAT EUT MODEST BEGGAR: "GIVE US A PEANUT, THAT 'S A GOOD FELLOW!" ENGRAVED FOR ST. NICHOLAS, AFTER THE PAINTING BY MR. PHIL R. MORRIS. BY PERMISSION OF BOUSSOD, VALADON & CO., PARIS. (See page 954-) VOL. XII. ST. NICHOLAS. OCTOBER, 1885. Copyright, 1885, by THE CENTURY CO. No. 12. WAR WITH THE LITTLE "REDSKINS." "SUNSHINE COVE," the summer home of the Shortwells, was a charming spot on the shore of a clear and beautiful little lake. A pretty cottage, nestled in a grove of chestnut, oak, and walnut trees; its broad verandas were shaded by honeysuckles and Virginia creepers; and a bit of green lawn at one side was sprinkled with plots of bright flowers. A picturesque summer-house, perched on a bluff, overlooked the lake, where a flock of white swans were usually at play; a rustic boat-house and bathhouse stood on the water's edge; a clump of vines among the trees had been trained to form an arbor; and a winding drive-way through the grove led to the barn and stable. "Sunshine Cove," though within an hour's ride from the city by rail, was surrounded by wooded hills; there were few houses within sight, and the railroad was so far away that no one thought of being annoyed by the whistling of the locomotives that dashed through the valley nearly every hour. Mr. Shortwell's wife and four children spent their summers at the Cove, while he rode to and from the city daily, and spent in the country as much of his time as he could spare from his business. Next to his family, he thought more of "Sunshine Cove" than of anything else on earth. From the time that he built the cottage and laid out the grounds, he had watched the growth of every shrub and tree on the place with almost affectionate interest. His special delight was an orchard of young pear-trees, many of which had been set out by his own hands. Now, at the end of several years, they were loaded with fruit; but Mr. Shortwell was not to reap the benefit of his work. As fast as each luscious pear mellowed in the August sun, some unknown enemy bit a hole in its side, stole the seeds and left it to rot on its stem or on the ground. It did not take long to discover that the "redskins," as the red squirrels that swarmed about the place were called, were the mischiefmakers. While the carpenters were at work finishing up the cottage two little red squirrels from the woods on the hills came to make a call, and whisked about in so neighborly and inoffensive a manner that they were encouraged to stay. They were fed and treated so well, indeed, that they forgot to go back to their old home. Their call was prolonged into a visit that lasted through the summer, and in the fall they laid up a hoard of nuts in a hollow oak-tree, and concluded to remain all winter. The next summer there were four of the little "redskins to meet the Shortwells when they came from the city, and in after years the increase was much more rapid. The squirrels were cunning little fellows, whisking about with funny antics and bright capers. It was very amusing to see their bushy red tails go bobbing across the lawn and to hear their chatter as they jumped from branch to branch while at play among the trees. But squirrels, like many children, seem to have a certain amount of naughtiness born in them which is bound to come out and make them disagreeable, sometimes. This was true of these "Sunshine Cove redskins," and their mischievous pranks, once considered so amusing, soon became unbearable through their frequent repetition. When a pair of the little rascals took possession of a pretty bird-house, pitilessly turning out two modest bluebirds, and filled the miniature dwelling with their own nest, the occurrence was looked upon as an interesting instance of squirrel enterprise. Such enterprise ceased to be entertaining, however, after the squirrels had established themselves in every bird-house on the place and frightened away nearly all the songsters that once made the grove so melodious. The appearance of a bird on the lawn was generally accepted as a challenge by some squirrel, which would dart down a tree and, with a spiteful bark, attack and drive away the feathered visitor. The chattering of the "redskins" was no adequate substitute for the twittering and singing of the birds, and the Shortwells heartily wished the fourlegged invaders back in the woods. The squirrels also caused serious annoyance by stripping the fibrous bark from the rustic cedar fence before the house, the bark making excellent nests for the little thieves. They seemed to know that they were doing wrong when they stole the bark, and never made their marauding excursions boldly, but by sneaking around behind trees and bushes. One day Mrs. Shortwell spied one of the little thieves on the fence in front of the cottage. He was sitting up on his hind legs and had a fine bunch of bark in his mouth; but when a sharp rap on the window showed him that he had been discovered, he dropped on all fours and scampered off at his fastest pace. One end of a piece of cord used in training vines on the fence had been caught in the bark, however, while the other end was fastened to the fence, and before Bunny had run three lengths of his little body, he was brought up with a jerk that made him turn a complete somersault. He recovered himself quickly, looked around with a surprised and mortified air, tugged at the cord till it snapped, and then darted off with his plunder. About this time, a visit to a rarely used attic chamber showed that the squirrels had been there, too, for nest-making materials. A mattress and several quilts had been torn to pieces, the little rascals having entered by a small hole gnawed through the roof near the chimney. From the attic the squirrels found their way also to other portions of the house. As the cook was finishing her work in the kitchen one evening, she felt a sharp tug at her skirt, and turned around just in time to see a bushy red tail disappearing through the pantry door, which was slightly ajar. An investigation showed that the squirrels had a passage-way from the garret down between the walls and through a knot-hole into the pantry. A great many forays on the family larder, for which up to that time the rats and mice had been blamed, were in this way accounted for. The squirrels were also guilty of numerous smaller misdeeds, such as waking up the sleepers in the cottage by their gambols on the roof early in the morning and on moonlit nights, stealing the corn that had been stored in the barn for the chickens, and keeping up an incessant and spiteful scolding whenever any one left the cottage for a walk about the grounds. They were evidently trying to follow the example of the Arabian camel, which, being allowed to thrust its nose into its master's tent on a cold night, followed this by its whole head, then by its neck, and finally by its body, thus turning its master out of doors. Mr. Shortwell, however, determined to keep possession of "Sunshine Cove," and to drive away or exterminate the "redskins." He was far too softhearted to go gunning for his former pets, so Quashee and Tab, mousers whom long service in his city warehouse had fitted for the savage work, were imported as executioners. They arrived one evening, and were shut up in the carriage-house for a day or two, till they had become accustomed to their new surroundings. When they were let out, consternation reigned among the squirrels, and also in Mr. Shortwell's breast for a brief period, for Tab, misunderstanding his mission, forayed the first day in a coop of choice chickens. However, a severe whipping corrected the cat's mistake in a measure, and temptation being removed by putting the chickens beyond his reach, Tab confined his attentions strictly to his legitimate game. Just at this critical point in the lives of the "redskins," a little incident, in which one of them figured prominently, turned the tide in their favor and saved them from complete destruction. Several days after Tab and Quashee had begun their war on the squirrels, Mrs. Shortwell was sitting near an open window of her room, when she heard a scramble on the piazza-roof, and an agonized squeal. At almost the same moment, a squirrel darted through the window and buried itself in a mass of fancy work in Mrs. Shortwell's lap. The little fellow was not a second too soon, for close behind him in full chase was Quashee, with tail bristling and eyes flashing. Quashee stopped on the window-sill with a low growl of disappointment at the disappearance of his dinner, which had so mysteriously slipped through his claws; and then, wasting no time, jumped back upon the roof to search for other prey. Although startled, Mrs. Shortwell sat perfectly still. In a few moments there was a slight stir among the crewels in her lap, and then all was quiet again. Several more seconds |