University of Virginia Library

10. X
POSSUM PINKTOES AND BILLIE

GRANDMA and Grandpa Lightfoot were so glad to have Jennie Chipmunk bring back Johnnie and Billy Bushytail, after they had run away, that they did not scold the little boy squirrels very much. Indeed, Johnnie and Billie were quite ashamed of themselves for making their kind grandparents worry, and they promised never to do so again.

Well, it was about three days after this, or maybe it was three days and a half — I can't be quite sure, because, you see, Jennie Chipmunk took my calendar to use for paper on the pantry shelves — anyhow, it was not very long after, that Billie Bushytail

was walking alone in the woods. Johnnie had gone to the drug store after some more wild cherry bark for Grandpa Lightfoot's cough, and Billie was all alone. He jumped from one tree to another, his tail whistling in the wind, when all at once, he heard some one call to him;

“Where did you learn to jump?” asked a voice.

“My grandfather taught me,” answered Billie, “or, to be more correct, it was a big bird that scared me and Johnnie, so that we jumped before we knew it. But who are you?”

He looked down, and all he could see was a little bunch of fur, curled up on a limb of the tree.

“I'm here,” the voice continued. “I'm practising sleep, so when I'm caught folks will think I'm dead, and let me alone.”

And what do you suppose? if it wasn't that bunch of fur that was talking. Yes, sir; that bunch of fur, that looked just as pussy does when she curls up in front of the stove. Now what do you think about that for something strange?

“Who are you, anyhow?” asked Billie, and he was beginning to get frightened.

“Oh,” said the bunch of fur, “I'm Possum Pinktoes,” and with that out of the fur came a little sharp nose, and some sharp claws, and a long tail, and two bright eyes looked up to Billie.

“Possum Pinktoes,” repeated the squirrel. “Why are you called that?”

“Well, because I have pink toes,” answered the little creature. “My father is Dr. Possum, you know, and he named me. He ought to know what to name me.”

“I suppose he ought,” said Billie. “But what are you doing here?”

Then Possum Pinktoes told how he had to practise making believe he was asleep. Don't you think that was a very strange thing to do? But, you see, he did it for a reason. When some animals see what they think is a dead creature, they will not touch it, and Possum Pinktoes, by making believe he was asleep, could look as if he really were dead, when he was very much alive. But thing of making believe he was asleep! I've known lots of children who pretended they were wide awake, when they were as sleepy as they could be, but I never saw any children who made believe they were asleep when they were awake.

“Is that all you are doing?” asked Billie.

“Oh, no, indeed,” answered Possum Pinktoes. “That is only one of the things I can do. Presently I am going to hang by my tail. I have to do that. Watch me.”

He made a quick motion, and — would you believe me? — there he was hanging down from the limb of the tree by his tail.

“My gracious!” cried Billie Bushytail. “That is a very good trick indeed! A very good one! I wonder if I could do that?”

“Did you ever try?” asked Possum Pinktoes.

“No,” answered Billie, “I never did.”

“Then,” said Possum Pinktoes, “you don't know whether you can do it or not. You never know whether you can do a thing until you try it. Watch me carefully, and see if you can hang by your tail. You have a nice, large one. I should think you could.”

So, after Billie Bushytail had watched Possum Pinktoes for a few minutes, and saw how gracefully the furry creature hung by his tail, the little squirrel decided to try it.

“Who knows?” said Billie. “Perhaps

some day I may get into a circus, and can do this trick.”

So he tried to wind his tail around the limb, as he had seen Possum Pinktoes do, and he let himself drop toward the ground. Then, what do you suppose happened? Why, Billie Bushytail fell right to the earth, as quick as could be, and my! what a bump he gave his nose. It bled a little, not quite as much as did the maid's nose who was out in the garden hanging up the clothes, but pretty much. Then Billie ran home crying, and his grandfather told him he was a foolish little squirrel, and should never try hanging by his tail again. And Billie never did. Now, what shall I tell you about to-morrow night? Oh, I know. How would you like to hear about Johnnie and the sly, sly old fox?