LITTLE MITCHELL

LITTLE MITCHELLTHE STORY OF A MOUNTAIN SQUIRRELLittle Mitchell has his Picture Taken(Page164)LITTLE MITCHELLTHE STORYOF A MOUNTAIN SQUIRRELBYMARGARET W. MORLEYAuthor of “A Song of Life,” “The Bee People,” etc.Illustrations by Bruce HorsfallCHICAGOA. C. McCLURG & CO.1904CopyrightA. C. McClurg & Co.1904Published April 2, 1904——————————THE UNIVERSITY PRESSCAMBRIDGE, U. S. A.CONTENTSPageILittle Mitchell’s Lady comes13IILittle Mitchell is found, and takes a Strange Journey32IIILittle Mitchell’s First Ride, and how he and his Lady get Home54IVLittle Mitchell’s Cat Neighbors78VLittle Mitchell starts out to see the World97VILittle Mitchell refuses to leave his Lady115VIILittle Mitchell’s First Car-ride139VIIILittle Mitchell goes to Boston152IXLittle Mitchell’s Happy Days172XLittle Mitchell makes a Mistake194XILittle Mitchell goes to Sleep215ILLUSTRATIONSPageLittle Mitchell has his Picture TakenFrontispieceLittle Mitchell’s First Home15“A squirrel’s nest, in a nice hole, high up in the crotch of a tall chestnut tree.”The Log Schoolhouse29“The schoolhouse stood on the bank of a little river.”Little Mitchell’s First Meal37“The Lady dipped the end of her finger in the milk and put it in Little Mitchell’s mouth.”Little Mitchell Cries for More47“He had squirmed out of the blanket.”Little Mitchell in his Lady’s Cap59“All curled up in a little round ball in his lady’s cap.”Little Mitchell Warming Himself69“He would flatten himself out and warm the under side of his body before the fire.”Little Mitchell’s First Chestnut75“He took it in his baby hands, and sat up, and looked around, very wise indeed.”Little Mitchell Washes his Face87“Out there in the corn-field he climbed quickly up to her shoulder, and sat there and washed his face with his little hands.”Little Mitchell Likes Chinkapins95“He sat on the Lady’s knee and cracked chinkapins, and would give the shells a toss that sent them far away.”Little Mitchell on a Frolic107“Hop, hop, went Little Mitchell, all up and down the room.”Little Mitchell in his Box119“There he lay on his back, like a hot, tired, human little baby.”Little Mitchell’s Visitor131“He scampered off as if the old cat were after him.”Little Mitchell and his Wheel143“As soon as he moved the wheel began to turn, and he began to run.”Little Mitchell Plays with his Tail155“It was funny to see him hanging by his hind toes from his screen, head downward, and play with his tail.”Little Mitchell Plays with a String169“Across the room and back again he would chase it.”Little Mitchell Sits in his Chair181“He sat in the doll’s chair before the little table, and ate his supper.”Little Mitchell Listens to the Whistle189“He would climb up on the screen, and there he would stay, as still as a mouse.”LITTLE MITCHELLLITTLE MITCHELLTHE STORY OF A MOUNTAIN SQUIRRELILITTLE MITCHELL’S LADY COMESBaby Mitchellwas an August squirrel. That is, he was born in the month of August. His pretty gray mother found a nice hole, high up in the crotch of a tall chestnut tree, for her babies’ nest; and I know she lined it with soft fur plucked from her own loving little breast,—for that is the way the squirrel mothers do.This chestnut tree grew on the side of a steep mountain,—none other than Mount Mitchell, the highest mountain peak in all the eastern half of the United States. It is in North Carolina, where there are a great many beautifulmountains, but none of them more beautiful than Mount Mitchell, with the great forest trees on its slopes.One of these forest trees was the big chestnut where Baby Mitchell was born. In the warm and lovely summer he lay safe in his snug nest twenty feet above the ground.How many little brothers and sisters there were, I do not know, for a very sad thing happened, and all of them died but Little Mitchell. I must tell you what this sad thing was that happened to the little squirrels.There was a small log-cabin at the foot of the mountain, and here lived a father and mother and a very large family of very small children. There was no other house near; and the father had to go a great many miles through the woods to his work in a saw-mill that some one had set up in the mountains.Little Mitchell’s First Home“A squirrel’s nest, in a nice hole, high up in the crotch of a tall chestnut tree.” (Page13)And the children had to go such a long way to school, over little rivers that they crossed on narrow foot-logs; and through deep shady woods, where the sun could scarcely send a ray down through the tops of the tall trees; and under tangled rhododendron bushes that were often like little trees they were so large, and in the summer time were covered with masses of splendid white flowers.Yes, it was a beautiful forest, though it was very, very wild; but there were no dangerous animals to hurt the children, excepting once in a while a long rattlesnake that wiggled out of the way as fast as it could if anybody came along.The children loved their forest home, and they could run across the foot-logs without slipping into the little rivers, for they had no shoes, and their pretty bare feet had learned to cling to whateverthey touched, like the feet of the wild animals, and they, you know, never tumble down or slip on a log.When the children had run across the foot-logs, and danced through the dark woods, and skipped along under the rhododendrons far enough, they came to the schoolhouse.You would be surprised to see this schoolhouse, for it was only a little log-hut with one room; and the seats were just rough benches, and there were no desks and no blackboards.The schoolhouse stood on the bank of a little river; and all the children who lived “yon side” the river, as they say there, had to come to school over a long and narrow foot-log. But this log had a railing to hold on by, and the children did not mind going over it any more than you mind walking on the sidewalk. You see, they had their bare feet to cling with.But they did not have to cross the log to go to the schoolhouse very often, for it is almost always “vacation” in the mountains. Sometimes the children go to school three months in the year, but very often there is school for only six weeks at a time. So they have to make the most of the good times, when they all meet together, and play with each other, and learn to read a little.It would be fun to tell you about the little girls who came from ever so far, barefooted and sunbonneted, and the little boys who came from ever so far, barefooted with ragged caps on their heads, to this queer school. And it would be fun to tell of what they did in school, and of the sport they had at recess, playing in the river that ran so close to the schoolhouse door, and in the woods, all full of wild flowers, where therabbits scampered under the trees, showing nothing but a tuft of white down which was their tail. But up in the trees gray squirrels ran about, with tails all big and bushy, and not white at all. It would be fun to tell about these things,—but there is little Baby Mitchell waiting for us up in the top of the chestnut tree, and we must hurry and take him down.But first we must go back to the little log-cabin at the foot of the mountain, and wait for the lady to come along; because, you see, the story all turns on the coming of the lady.One August day, toward night, when it began to get very cool at the foot of the high mountain, the mother of the little children who lived in the log-cabin was very much astonished. The little children were very much astonished too. The dog was so astonished that he forgot tobark; and the very cabbages and cornstalks that grew in the clearing in front of the cabin no doubt were also very much astonished.Such a thing had never happened before; for coming along the path out of the woods were two strangers,—a lady from away off, and a mountain man who was acting as her guide.The lady, on her part, was very much astonished too. She wanted to climb to the top of Mount Mitchell; and somebody had told somebody who had told her that the shortest way up was from a house at the foot, on the east side of the mountain, and that this house was a little hotel where strangers usually went to spend the night before starting up the high mountain.So the lady came from away off, until she got within a few miles of the foot of the high mountain. Here she spent the night in a farmhouse, andnext morning took a mountain man for a guide, who said he knew the way; and they started to walk to the little hotel, which she found was no hotel at all, but only the tiny log-cabin where the father and mother and their children lived.The lady had to walk, because that was the only way to get there. There was no road through the forest, only a narrow path that went waggling along over rocks and rivers and tangly tree-roots, and nobody but a mountaineer could have found it. The lady followed her guide miles and miles, and would have felt very tired, only the air is so refreshing up by the big mountain that you cannot feel very tired, not if you walk ever so far.The lady wore shoes, of course, and she could not get through the woods and over the foot-logs as easily as the little barefooted children. But at last,just before dark, they crossed one more stream over a particularly small and wabbly foot-log, and there they were.“That is the house,” said the guide, as they came out into the clearing where the cabbages and cornstalks were growing.“Where?” said the lady.“There,” said the guide, pointing to the cabin.It was then that the lady felt very much astonished.Ladies always feel very much astonished in these mountains, because nothing ever turns out as they expect.This lady had expected to find a little hotel, you remember.But where is Baby Mitchell all this time? you are asking.Oh, he is safe enough yet. Nothing at all has happened to him, and you must wait patiently until it is time for something to happen.The lady is very tired, remember,—or at least as tired as anybody can be in that enchanted forest; and she is hungry, and must have her supper.When the mother of the little children saw the lady coming, she was glad as well as astonished, and ran to meet her.“Law me! You must be plumb tired out,” she said. “Come right along in, and set down and rest yourself. We hain’t got much, but what we have got you’re welcome to.”That is the way the mountain people always talk. Their grammar is all wrong, but their hearts are all right,—and a good heart is worth a great deal more than good grammar; don’t you think so?So the lady went in. There was nothing else to do. She couldn’tpossiblyhave gone back all that way through the forest and across therivers at night, you know. And though the log-house was so small and so crowded, she felt that she was not in the way, the mother and all the little children looked so friendly at her.She was quite a wonderful lady,—or at least so thought that family in the woods; for while the little children stood looking at her, what do you think?There she sat—with a doll in her hands!It was a little doll, but it had real hair, and when you laid it down it shut its eyes.The little children who lived in the cabin had never seen a doll in their long lives before,—never.But they knew right away what it was for. So did the lady. She knew very well it was meant for children to play with; and presently she laid it in the arms of one of the little girls.And the little girl grabbed it tight in both hands, as if she were afraid it would run away. Then she laid it up over her shoulder, with its curly head in the hollow of her neck, just as her mother held the baby, and she patted it softly with a gentle motherly touch of her chubby little hand, and, oh, how her eyes did shine!Then, wonder of wonders!—there was another doll in the lady’s hand, and she put it into the arms of another little girl; and still another doll came out of her pocket, or somewhere, for the third little girl; and the three dolls were all as much alike as two peas.It was all wonderful. The three little girls would have thought Christmas had come in the middle of the summer, if they had known anything about Christmas, which they did not. Yet they were very good and prettylittle girls, and they had lovely rivers to play in, and a great splendid mountain to look at all their lives.Of course there were some boys,—three of them; and they were about as much interested in the wonderful dolls as were their little sisters. That is, they were until the lady took out of the bag which the guide carried a new jack-knife with two shiny blades; then the boys’ eyes got very shiny too. None of them had ever owned a knife. Their father had one, and when he was at home the boys used to borrow it to whittle the ends of sticks into brushes to kindle the fire with; for there was never a scrap of paper with which to start a fire.You can imagine how those three boys felt when the lady gave each of them a new knife! You can imagine how they felt, I say; but they could not have told you. They really didn’tknow themselves; for they had never felt that way before.What are you asking?—are wenevercoming to Little Mitchell?Yes; but we must have supper first.What has supper to do with it?Oh, everything. For now that the lady is found, the whole story turns on the supper.If it hadn’t been for the supper, the lady would not have found Little Mitchell, and you would never have known a thing about him.You see, the people who lived in the cabin had nothing to eat but corn-pone, which is a kind of coarse cornbread baked in the ashes; for they had no stove,—nothing but a big stone fireplace to do their cooking in.There was nothing but corn-pone and fried cabbage there to eat. So when the lady came, the father took his gun (he had just got home fromthe saw-mill) and went out to get some meat for supper.After a little while he came back with a large gray squirrel; and pretty soon they all had a nice hot supper of corn-pone, fried cabbage, and squirrel-pie.Now squirrel-pie is really no worse than chicken-pie or veal-pie or mutton-pie; but it sounds worse. And of course nobody knew that the squirrel that went into the pie was a poor little mother bunny with a nestful of young babies.I should like to tell you how the lady spent the night in the log-cabin, which had only two rooms for its eleven occupants, counting the lady and her guide who were not expected, and not counting the very littlest baby and the next biggest baby and the three-year old baby, who were all tucked away somewhere—under one of the beds, I think—before supper.The Log Schoolhouse“The schoolhouse stood on the bank of a little river.” (Page17)I say I should like to tell you about that strange night; only, of course, you would not listen, with Baby Mitchell waiting up in his tree to be rescued.But I must say that many rooms do not make kinder hearts or better manners than the lady found in those two crowded little rooms of the log-house.The lady was not used to living as her new friends had to live, and she could not get used to it in time to go to sleep that night. So when morning came she should have felt very tired after the long walk of the day before and the sleepless night. But, remember, she was in an enchanted forest,—that is, it seemed to have enchanted air, for the moment she got out in the morning and breathed deep of the pure high air she felt as fresh as she ever felt in her life.And the school-teacher did look so fresh and pretty!Who was the school-teacher?Why, she was just the school-teacher. She was young and pretty, and the little children loved her, and went to school every morning with her through the deep woods and over the many rivers.She lived at their house during term-time, and she had just come, for school was to begin the next Monday. Her own home was in another part of the mountains.When the lady asked her how she liked living out in this wild and lonely place, and teaching in the wild and lonely schoolhouse, she smiled until her pretty white teeth showed, and said,—“Oh, I like it splendid.”So you see the little children had good reason to love her.IILITTLE MITCHELL IS FOUND, AND TAKES A STRANGE JOURNEYWhenthe little gray bunny mother did not come home, the babies in the crotch of the old chestnut tree got very hungry, and I am sure they cried all night.No doubt they were cold too, for they had no little furry mother to curl herself about them and keep them warm. Poor babies! I suppose they cuddled as close together as they could, and cried and cried, and wondered why mother did not come home and take care of them.At last, when morning came, the strongest one—that was our Little Mitchell, you know—felt so desperatethat, although he was only two or three days old and had not got his eyes open yet, he climbed up to the crotch of the tree to find out what he could.All he felt was the cold keen air of the early morning; and then, being all confused, I suppose, and not knowing how high he was from the ground,—for his eyes were tight shut, remember,—he tried to walk out into space, and down he fell,—not to the ground, oh dear, no! If he had fallen to the ground he would have been killed, and this story would never have been told.When he felt himself falling, he caught at the tree-trunk with his little claws, and managed to get hold of a piece of loosened bark. Here he clung, terribly frightened, and crying like a little baby,—which, indeed, he was.Perhaps it was a good thing for him that his eyes were shut, for how frightened he would have been to look downand see the earth so far below him!—such a cold, unfriendly earth, too, with nothing on it for a baby squirrel to eat.I do not know how long he had been clinging there and crying before the lady came. For now it is time for his lady to come along, and when she once comes Little Mitchell will be in the story every minute until it ends.You see, as soon as breakfast was over and they had all eaten all the hot corn-pone and fried cabbage they wanted, the lady was ready to start up the mountain.The little children and their mother and the school-teacher were sorry to see the lady go, and the father looked anxious,—for Mount Mitchell is a very wild mountain and a very big one, and he was afraid they would get lost. He offered to go and show them; but the guide said no, he knew the way.So the lady and her guide started onup the mountain in the cold morning air, and it became so steep right away that the lady had to keep stopping to get her breath.It was while she was stopping to breathe that the guide said,—“Listen! I hear a boomer, and I would like to get to see it.”“Boomer” is their name for the little red squirrel, of which the mountaineers are very fond, and which is not nearly so common there as the big gray squirrel. The people who live down below call the mountain people “mountain boomers,”—why, I do not know, unless perhaps they think they live in the mountains like squirrels.Well, the guide began to look around to find the boomer, and the lady looked around too, and at last they spied a little squirrel clinging to the bark of a tall chestnut tree, twenty feet from the ground, and crying very hard.They soon found that it was no boomer, but a tiny gray squirrel. The guide threw up small sticks and bits of bark to make him run; but he did not stir, even when a bit of bark hit his tail.Then said the guide, “I’m going up to get him.”So up the tree he went, clinging with arms and knees, for the tree-trunk was so big his arms could not reach half-way around it.It was a very hard climb, but the man got there at last, and, catching the little fellow by the tail, came sliding down, the little squirrel squeaking frantically, for it was both frightened and hurt at being handled in that rough way. Its own little bunny mother never picked it up by the tail, you know.The man put the little fellow in the lady’s hand, and, to her surprise, she saw it was a young gray squirrel with its eyes not yet open.Little Mitchell’s First Meal“The Lady dipped the end of her finger in the milk and put it in Little Mitchell’s mouth.” (Page52)And now you know it was Little Mitchell, who had fallen out of his nest and was lying there in the lady’s hand.Such a funny little fellow as he was!—all head and feet, with almost no body at all, and a queer little stub of a tail that was hardly as long as his queer little body.The lady laughed when she saw him, and then she felt very sorry for the helpless little one.What could she do with him? She could not lay him down on the cold mountain and go away and leave him. And yet he must just as surely die if she took him, she thought, for she had nothing with which to feed him.He nosed around in her hand in such a comical, helpless way, not crying now, but whimpering like a verytired, worn-out little baby,—which, you know, is just what he was.Finally the lady started on with him in her hand; but he squirmed and whimpered so, she soon grew tired of holding him—and then, what do you think she did?She had on a warm flannel waist with a soft loose belt, and into the waist she tucked him. In a moment he had worked his way down under the belt, where he snuggled up, stopped crying, and went fast asleep.You see, he was almost dead from cold and weariness.On went the lady, slowly climbing up the steep mountain; and the wonder is that Little Mitchell was not squeezed to death under her belt. But he slept on.On through the great chestnut forest went the lady and her guide,—on past the handsome tulip trees, thegreat oaks, and all kinds of beautiful forest trees.The sun grew hot on the mountain side, and the air became soft and hazy,—a little too soft and hazy for safety on that wild mountain, where storms ride swiftly up like witches from nowhere.But on and up they went, until they came out of the forest to a wide sloping pasture,—a “bald” they call such open places on the mountains.Here they found the ground covered thick with grass and flowers, and a herd of cattle grazing. These half-wild cattle raised their heads as the lady and her guide came out of the forest into their pasture, and some of them shook their long horns and began to step nearer. But the guide shouted and waved a big stick at them, and they went off.And Baby Mitchell slept on.When they were half-way across the “bald” that sloped gently upward, the lady turned around and looked back over the tree-tops.It was a wonderful view.Below was the valley where stood the log-cabin; but she could not see the cabin, it was so close under the mountain; and the valley itself looked like a slit, it was so deep and narrow.And now you know why the night came on so soon, and why the morning sun was so long in shining down into the cabbage patch. The valley was so deep and narrow that the sun could not look into it until it was high up in the sky.Across the narrow valley, and right in front, was a splendid tree-covered spur of the Blue Ridge mountains; and off a little to the left was the queer-looking Table Mountain, stuck up like a big hat set on the headof a mountain. Beyond were billows upon billows of mountains; and beyond them, far off in the distance, the lowlands looked blue and level like the sea.The lady stood several minutes looking at the grand and beautiful view, with Baby Mitchell fast asleep under her belt. Then she went on, and at last they got to the top of the “bald,” and, with a last look back at the wide world below, the lady followed her guide on into the black fir forest.The black fir forest was very black indeed, and the fir trees towered up and up and up so high you could not see their tops, and so thick you could not see the sky through their branches. Oh, but it was dark under them!—it was like walking under thousands of Christmas trees before the candles and presents have been put on; only these trees were ten times as big asChristmas trees. They were balsam firs, the kind you get the sweet-smelling needles from to put into sofa pillows; only these were ten times as big as the balsam firs that grow in the North. But they smelled just as sweet as those, and all the forest was filled with the perfume of them. The ground was covered ankle deep with soft green moss that the lady’s feet sank into as she walked.And everywhere were the rhododendrons. It was too late for them to be in bloom; so they were not as lovely as they are sometimes. When you get into the rhododendrons, you cannot see up into the tree branches, because the rhododendron branches are tangled about you and above you with their stiff green leaves. They make the woods seem dreadfully black and gloomy; but when they are in bloom it is another matter.The lady and the guide went on and on under the twisted rhododendrons, and Baby Mitchell lay fast asleep under the lady’s belt.Then the guide lost the trail.It was, in fact, a great deal easier to lose it than to keep it. Indeed, it could hardly be called a trail at all, it was so little used, and one had to know the mountain very well indeed to get safely to the top.Such a wild and lovely forest as they found now, you never were in. I do not believe such balsam firs grow anywhere else in the world. Their dark green tops make the mountains look black, excepting when the air is hazy and makes them look faint and blue in the distance. But when the air is clear the mountains look black because of the fir trees that grow all the way up to their tops.And when anybody asks, you can tell them that is why the Black Mountains got their name; and Mount Mitchell, you know, is one of the Black Mountains,—the very highest one of all.Well, they lost the trail, the lady and her guide, and soon they had to creep on their hands and knees under the rhododendrons that twisted great tangly arms about them and tripped them up with roots that lay like giant snakes upon the ground. And then they came to awful precipices, and had to creep back again. And sometimes they had to climb over immense fallen logs, slippery with a deep coat of green moss.The lady remembered Baby Mitchell under her belt, and crept along as carefully as she could; yet it is a wonder he wasn’t squeezed to death. But he was a good tired baby, thatsaid never a word, but slept on, warm and snug under the soft belt.It was hard work for the lady, and the air began to smell damp, and sweeter than ever,—the way it does before a rain.And now and then they would get glimpses through the forest to where was a deep gorge with a tremendous tree-clad spur beyond, and down into this gorge went pouring what looked like a river of white mist.The lady was frightened now, for she knew they were lost on the wild mountain, and that the white river she saw was the fog-clouds rolling in.The fog-clouds sometimes shut down on the mountains so thick and heavy that you cannot see your way at all; and then it is not safe to take so much as a step.Little Mitchell Cries for More“He had squirmed out of the blanket.” (Page62)But the guide struggled on as fast as he could, and would not own that they were lost, though his face was all drawn with fear of the wild cloud-covered mountain.At last they reached a little icy stream coming down the mountain and began to climb up its bed, not minding the cold water that soaked their feet. Then on they went as fast as they could struggle through the terrible forest, and just as they got to a trail that the guide knew would lead them to the top the rain began to fall and a cloud closed swiftly about them. But they were on the right path now, so they did not care for the creeping cloud.It was still a long, long walk to the top,—for one thing that always astonishes strangers who go to these mountains is the way distances stretch out. They tell you it is two miles to a place, and when you have gone two miles it is still two miles farther,—onlysometimes when you have gone the two miles it is four more before you get there.Well, they got to the top at last, but by that time the rain was pouring and the clouds had settled down over everything. It was a terrible storm they were in, and so icy cold.But Little Mitchell slept on,—he was so very, very tired, you see, and then the lady had managed somehow to keep him dry and warm.You can see the whole world from the top of Mount Mitchell,—well, no, not really the whole world, but you know what I mean,—you can see so much it seems as if it must be the whole world; and that is why the lady had wanted to go there. But for all she could see that day, she might as well have stayed at home.It is usually that way on Mount Mitchell. No matter how clear it iswhen you start, there is a watchful cloud that goes sneaking up after you, or else comes sneaking down from its hiding-place back of the sky as soon as you come, and the first thing you know it has folded itself down over the mountain-top and blotted out everything from sight.There is a cave on the top of Mount Mitchell, made by a large overhanging rock. People generally go up from the sensible side of the mountain,—which is not the side the lady went up, because she didn’t know any better, you see.The people who go up from the sensible side take blankets and food on the backs of mules, and stay all night in the cave. That is good fun.But the lady had no blankets and no mule,—only a very tired guide, who was so tired because he got frightened on the mountain thinkinghe had lost the way, and a poor little hungry baby squirrel fast asleep under her belt.The lady looked into the cave, and what do you think she found?A couch of balsam boughs; but that doesn’t count.An old coffee-pot; but that doesn’t count.A little can partly full of condensed milk; and that does count,—for, you see, it saved Baby Mitchell’s life.Somebody had been camping there sometime, and had left the can of milk, and it had not turned sour because it is so cold up there even in midsummer.While the guide was trying to make a fire out of wet sticks, the lady took Little Mitchell out from under her belt,—and a very limp baby he was by this time, for he was nearly starved to death, of course.She dipped the end of her finger in the milk and put it in Little Mitchell’s mouth. Perhaps you think he wouldn’t eat condensed milk. You should have seen him! He licked every bit from the lady’s finger, and then cried for more.She fed him all she dared,—for when you are almost starved it is dangerous to eat too much at a time, you know. When she would give him no more, he cried very hard,—he was such a hungry baby, and the milk tasted so good. But pretty soon he quieted down and went fast asleep again, and was tucked back under the soft belt.The guide could not start a fire,—which shows he was not a “truly” guide, for a “truly” guide can make a fire out of icicles, you know.So, all wet and shivery, they sat in the cave and ate some lunch outof the lady’s bag, which had been carried by the guide.They hardly dared to rest at all, for they had to get to the foot of the mountain before night; so in a few minutes they started down.IIILITTLE MITCHELL’S FIRST RIDE, AND HOW HE AND HIS LADY GET HOMEOh, no, indeed! They didn’t try to go back the way they came up. They went down the sensible side of the mountain. The distance was more than twice as great, but there was a plain path all the way.But first they stopped a minute to look at the Mitchell monument. I must tell you about this. It is made of metal, and is fastened with four strong wire cables, to keep it from blowing down,—for there are terrible winds on the top of Mount Mitchell. The monument is placed over the grave of Dr. Mitchell, for whom the big mountain is named, because heloved it so, and went up to the top of it a great many times, and measured it to find out how high it is; but one day the clouds came down, and he stayed so long that he got lost on his beautiful mountain, and died there.So the mountain was named after Dr. Mitchell; and Baby Mitchell, as you have guessed long before this, was named after the mountain, because the lady found him on the side of it.Well, they started down in the rain, and the path was plain enough, for mules sometimes came up it as I have told you. But it was a hard path to walk in, for the roots of the big trees that grew so close together had come up out of the ground, as tree roots do, and had twisted about everywhere. Sometimes it was like going down a flight of break-neck stairs, the path was so steep, and the twistedroots made the steps. Besides, there were deep holes full of water that your feet kept sinking down into.But in spite of all this, it was a beautiful forest. And soon the lady forgot how cold and tired she had been, and went along as happy as could be. You see, the forest was so lovely, all dripping wet, and the air was so fine, she had to feel happy. The dampness made the moss like king’s velvet, so soft and deep and green.And the great fir trees towered high up toward the sky, and stood so close together there was scarcely room to pass between them; and it was all dim and half dark, because of the trees overhead, and the cloud over the trees.After a while they got out of the firs into the briar patch; and here the sun was trying to break throughthe clouds. And after the briar patch, where it was not so steep, they came into another kind of forest.They had got below the fir trees, and now went along under the broad-leaved oaks, and chestnuts, and lindens, and many other mountain trees.The path got smoother, excepting where they had to cross the beds of rocky streams, full and roaring from the rain. It wound back and forth on the mountain-side, and was not so steep, and the lady kept on feeling very happy, the forest was so lovely.At last they got down the mountain and came to a river that was hard to cross. It went rushing along, and they had to jump from rock to rock to get over. But they managed it, and then went on through more lovely woods, till they got to Mr. Dolph Wilson’s house.This house had several rooms, and the Wilsons were used to having strangers come and stay with them on their way to or from the mountain. They had a mule named Belle, that had been up,—oh, I don’t know how many times,—and she could walk in the holes between the tree roots on the steep part, and over the rocky beds of the streams, without tumbling down.As soon as the lady got into the house, she asked for some milk, which she warmed over the kitchen stove, not to drink herself,—oh dear, no,—but for the poor little baby squirrel that was lying all snuggled up asleep under her belt.At first he would not drink from the spoon; it was hard and cold, and he did not know how to drink in that way. But presently he happened to get the edge of it in his mouth, and tasted the good warm milk. How he did drink it then! He held the spoon between his lips, and drank just as you drink from a tumbler; and I don’t suppose anything in the world ever tasted better to any one than that milk did to Baby Mitchell.Little Mitchell in His Lady’s Cap“All curled up in a little round ball in his lady’s cap.” (Page73)Then the lady took a piece of soft cloth for a blanket, and wrapped him up in it, and took him to her bedroom, where she put him to bed, and left him while she got warm and dry and had her supper.Do you want to know about his bed?Well, you see, the mountain people use feather-beds, and they have two or three beds in one room. That is the way they like to live,—a great many people together in one room.But the lady did not like this way, so she had a room to herself, with two big beds in it, and there was a thick feather-bed on each of them. Shepunched her fists down into one of the feather-beds until she had made quite a deep hole, and in this she buried Little Mitchell in his blanket.You see, young squirrels, like other babies, need to be kept warm.So Baby Mitchell had a whole feather-bed to himself that night, and he slept without a sound until the lady unrolled him the next morning.She hardly expected to find him alive, he was such a tender little thing to undergo such hardships. Starving, and sleeping under ladies’ belts, and being carried in that way up a rough mountain and then down again, and fed on condensed milk and cow’s milk, and put to sleep at last in a feather-bed, one would think would be enough to wear out any squirrel so young it couldn’t open its eyes.But it didn’t wear out Baby Mitchell.When the lady unrolled him, there he was, as alive as could be and as warm as a kitten. She laughed when she saw him, he was so little and the bed so big!As soon as she unrolled him, he lifted up his head, and then he opened his mouth and screamed for his breakfast. He was used to being cared for earlier in the morning, in his home in the tree, and he was starving hungry.The lady hurried to give him some warm milk, and when he had drunk it he went fast asleep right away, and she wrapped him up and put him in the feather-bed again, and went off.When she came back he had squirmed out of the blanket and was standing up as straight as he could on his funny little legs, and holding up his funny head, with his eyes still tight shut. And he was screaming at the top of his voice, “Oh, come andtake me! come and take me!” At least that is what the lady said he meant, for the minute she put her hand on him he stopped crying.So of course she cuddled him up against her cheek for a minute, and talked to him, and comforted him, and then gave him another drink of warm milk.You see, she had left him until he got hungry, and then he had squirmed out to look for his lady; and when he could not find her he screamed and cried. He always did make a great fuss when he was hungry.Little Mitchell and his lady were comfortable enough at the home of Mr. Dolph Wilson, who, you must not forget, lives at the foot of the sensible side of the great Mount Mitchell; and if you ever decide to go to the top of that mountain, that is the very best way to go. Only itwill take you a long time to get to the Wilsons’ from anywhere,—almost as long as it would take to go to the moon if there were a rapid-transit trolley up there.But you will see a very lovely valley if you do go,—not to the moon, to Mr. Adolph Wilson’s, I mean,—and a beautiful cold river with a great many large smooth rocks in its bottom, and as handsome a forest as exists this side of the moon, or the other side either, as far as I know.Besides, there are the young Wilsons, who will be glad to see you, and who will show you over the mountains round about; and, finally, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson will take you up Mount Mitchell on Belle, the mule, if you want to go that way.Mr. Dolph Wilson is the son of “Big Tom,” the most famous bear-hunter in these parts. It was hewho found the body of Dr. Mitchell when every one else had given up the search. He loves to tell the story of that search, and it would make you cry, it is so sad,—for “Big Tom” loved Dr. Mitchell. But if you want to hear him tell the story, which is well worth going a long distance for, you will need to go soon, for “Big Tom” is a very old man now, so old that he cannot have a great many more years to live.Well, the lady had to get back home; so the day after she got to his house Mr. Dolph Wilson drove her and the guide and Baby Mitchell, in his carriage, with the two little, lazy, long-eared mules, for ten miles. They stopped at “Big Tom’s” log-cabin to see him and hear him tell his story, and then they went on.Their way was over a rough mountain road, where they had to ford agreat many stony streams and a shining river two or three times.But Baby Mitchell did not care anything about this, for he was asleep in the guide’s hand. You see, at that time of his life he did almost nothing but sleep and eat, and he never cried at all excepting when he was hungry.The big, kind-hearted guide looked very funny holding Baby Mitchell so carefully in one hand, and the little can of condensed milk in the other, while the carriage bumped and jerked over the rough road. For of course they had to take along the can of milk for fear they might not be able to get anything else for Baby Mitchell’s dinner.Mr. Dolph Wilson could take them only ten miles on their way, because he had to go back home and attend to some men who had come from everso far to go fishing for trout in the river by his house.But ten miles was enough, for the lady could easily walk to her next stopping-place, which she did, along a lovely valley with the high mountains on all sides of her; and she carried Little Mitchell now, while the guide took her bag and the can of milk.At noon she sat down under a tree by the roadside. So few people live along here that it was as quiet and lonely where the lady stopped to rest as though it had been in the midst of the forest.She unrolled Baby Mitchell and let him lie and stretch his limbs in the warm sun, which he did in a very comical manner,—for all the world like a nice, comfortable human baby. Then she gave him some condensed milk, and he had no sooner eaten itthan he fell fast asleep again, and she rolled him up in his blanket and laid him on a stone while she ate her lunch.When she was rested, they went on until they reached the place where the lady was to spend the night. The guide went home, and he wanted very much to take Baby Mitchell for his children to play with. But of course the lady could not allow that. The little fellow was altogether too young and tender to be handled by careless children who might not know how to avoid hurting him. So she kept him with her; and again he had good warm milk for his supper, and was put to sleep in a whole feather-bed.The next morning Baby Mitchell and the lady took another long drive. This time they had to go in a lumber wagon, over a road that was, oh, so rough! Even Baby Mitchell kept waking up, the wagon jolted so. They forded deep rivers, and they went down mountains and up mountains; but by noon they got back to the place where the lady started from when she went ever so far to the foot of Mount Mitchell.Little Mitchell Warming Himself“He would flatten himself out and warm the under side of his body before the fire.” (Page77)This place was a log-house, but it was not like the log-houses of the mountain people. It was a beautiful house, and belonged to dear friends of the lady. They had built it that they might come deep into the mountains to live every summer.There were no feather-beds here, and there were a number of cats. But you will want to know more about them, for they were very remarkable cats.The gentleman at this house where Baby Mitchell’s lady was visiting gave him a nice little wooden box, with a great many holes bored in it to let inthe air; and the gentleman’s wife gave him some soft cotton for a bed. Then Baby Mitchell’s lady, and the gentleman, and the gentleman’s wife, all looked at Baby Mitchell. His lady had scarcely taken time for that before, she was so occupied in getting him safe through.Such a funny Baby Mitchell! All head and feet, you know, with the queerest little fuzzy tail! And those eyes tight shut! The gentleman said he never would have any eyes; but he only said that to tease the lady, and the gentleman’s wife said, “Oh, shame!” for she had quite fallen in love with the ridiculous-looking little furry baby.Then the lady took Baby Mitchell up to her own pretty room and laid him on the bed, rolled up in his blanket, while she went to eat her supper. When she came back witha cup of warm milk for him, she took up the little roll of blanket, and what do you think!It was empty. No Baby Mitchell there!The lady thought of the cats; but the door was tight shut, and there were screens in the windows. She looked on the bed and on the floor, but saw no Baby Mitchell. Then she began, as well as she could, to make the little noise that Baby Mitchell made when he was hungry; and presently, if you will believe it, she heard something answer her. So she kept calling, and Baby Mitchell kept answering, until at last she found him; and where do you think he was?He had managed to crawl out of his blanket, and no doubt he felt very lonely and tired and hungry, so he started out to find his lady. He hadscrambled down to the floor, and gone across the room, and climbed upon a low couch under the window; and on the pillow of the couch was lying his lady’s cap, where she had left it a few minutes before. And here she found him, all curled up into a little round ball on the top of her cap. He must have smelled it, and gone there.So the lady said, “It is time now for you to have a room of your own, where you cannot get lost.”Then she took the cotton that her friend, the gentleman’s wife, had given her, and put it into the box that her friend the gentleman had bored full of holes, and made a soft bed for Baby Mitchell. Then she gave him a good supper of warm milk, and put him to bed in his box, and he went fast asleep and slept soundly until the next morning.After breakfast next day the ladyput Baby Mitchell on the couch while she fixed his box, and when she went to take him,—what do you think? He had one round black eye wide open! He didn’t seem to know he had an open eye, though, and went nosing about just as he did when he had no eye at all.Next day open came the other round black eye, and then all at once Baby Mitchell seemed to be able to see. And if you will believe it, he was now afraid of his lady! He probably had not expected to open his eyes on a lady instead of on a furry little bunny mother; and so he was as badly frightened as though he had never licked condensed milk from her finger, nor been taken care of by her through more than half of his short life.Little Mitchell’s First Chestnut“He took it in his baby hands, and sat up, and looked around, very wise indeed.” (Page113)No, not quite so badly frightened, either; for when his lady caught himand covered up his bright eyes, he smelled her hands and was not afraid, and very soon he got to know her by sight.She used to give him warm milk out of a spoon three or four times a day, and every day he took a little more, and every day he grew a little larger. After he had eaten he would climb all over his lady, and sit on her shoulder or on her knee for a few minutes; but he would soon get sleepy and be glad to creep into his warm nest, when his lady would shut the box cover down tight over him—so that if a cat should happen to get into the room and find his box, and should try ever so hard to get him out, she could not do it.Sometimes Baby Mitchell would climb up on the wire screen that stood before the fireplace; and in the early morning, when the air was cooland there was a fire blazing in the fireplace, he used to like to flatten out on the screen and warm the little white underside of his body. But soon it would get too hot for him; and then do you think he would climb down again? Not at all. He would look at his lady out of his big black eyes, and nod his head at her as much as to say, “Come and take me down,”—which she always did.So, you see, he was very much petted and spoiled. Everybody in the house petted and spoiled him—excepting the cats, and they longed to pet him, and I am perfectly sure that if they had done so they would have completely spoiled him.

LITTLE MITCHELLTHE STORY OF A MOUNTAIN SQUIRRELLittle Mitchell has his Picture Taken(Page164)LITTLE MITCHELLTHE STORYOF A MOUNTAIN SQUIRRELBYMARGARET W. MORLEYAuthor of “A Song of Life,” “The Bee People,” etc.Illustrations by Bruce HorsfallCHICAGOA. C. McCLURG & CO.1904CopyrightA. C. McClurg & Co.1904Published April 2, 1904——————————THE UNIVERSITY PRESSCAMBRIDGE, U. S. A.

THE STORY OF A MOUNTAIN SQUIRREL

Little Mitchell has his Picture Taken(Page164)

Little Mitchell has his Picture Taken(Page164)

Little Mitchell has his Picture Taken

(Page164)

LITTLE MITCHELL

THE STORYOF A MOUNTAIN SQUIRREL

BY

MARGARET W. MORLEY

Author of “A Song of Life,” “The Bee People,” etc.

Illustrations by Bruce Horsfall

CHICAGOA. C. McCLURG & CO.1904

CopyrightA. C. McClurg & Co.1904

Published April 2, 1904

——————————

THE UNIVERSITY PRESSCAMBRIDGE, U. S. A.

CONTENTSPageILittle Mitchell’s Lady comes13IILittle Mitchell is found, and takes a Strange Journey32IIILittle Mitchell’s First Ride, and how he and his Lady get Home54IVLittle Mitchell’s Cat Neighbors78VLittle Mitchell starts out to see the World97VILittle Mitchell refuses to leave his Lady115VIILittle Mitchell’s First Car-ride139VIIILittle Mitchell goes to Boston152IXLittle Mitchell’s Happy Days172XLittle Mitchell makes a Mistake194XILittle Mitchell goes to Sleep215

ILLUSTRATIONSPageLittle Mitchell has his Picture TakenFrontispieceLittle Mitchell’s First Home15“A squirrel’s nest, in a nice hole, high up in the crotch of a tall chestnut tree.”The Log Schoolhouse29“The schoolhouse stood on the bank of a little river.”Little Mitchell’s First Meal37“The Lady dipped the end of her finger in the milk and put it in Little Mitchell’s mouth.”Little Mitchell Cries for More47“He had squirmed out of the blanket.”Little Mitchell in his Lady’s Cap59“All curled up in a little round ball in his lady’s cap.”Little Mitchell Warming Himself69“He would flatten himself out and warm the under side of his body before the fire.”Little Mitchell’s First Chestnut75“He took it in his baby hands, and sat up, and looked around, very wise indeed.”Little Mitchell Washes his Face87“Out there in the corn-field he climbed quickly up to her shoulder, and sat there and washed his face with his little hands.”Little Mitchell Likes Chinkapins95“He sat on the Lady’s knee and cracked chinkapins, and would give the shells a toss that sent them far away.”Little Mitchell on a Frolic107“Hop, hop, went Little Mitchell, all up and down the room.”Little Mitchell in his Box119“There he lay on his back, like a hot, tired, human little baby.”Little Mitchell’s Visitor131“He scampered off as if the old cat were after him.”Little Mitchell and his Wheel143“As soon as he moved the wheel began to turn, and he began to run.”Little Mitchell Plays with his Tail155“It was funny to see him hanging by his hind toes from his screen, head downward, and play with his tail.”Little Mitchell Plays with a String169“Across the room and back again he would chase it.”Little Mitchell Sits in his Chair181“He sat in the doll’s chair before the little table, and ate his supper.”Little Mitchell Listens to the Whistle189“He would climb up on the screen, and there he would stay, as still as a mouse.”

LITTLE MITCHELLLITTLE MITCHELLTHE STORY OF A MOUNTAIN SQUIRRELILITTLE MITCHELL’S LADY COMESBaby Mitchellwas an August squirrel. That is, he was born in the month of August. His pretty gray mother found a nice hole, high up in the crotch of a tall chestnut tree, for her babies’ nest; and I know she lined it with soft fur plucked from her own loving little breast,—for that is the way the squirrel mothers do.This chestnut tree grew on the side of a steep mountain,—none other than Mount Mitchell, the highest mountain peak in all the eastern half of the United States. It is in North Carolina, where there are a great many beautifulmountains, but none of them more beautiful than Mount Mitchell, with the great forest trees on its slopes.One of these forest trees was the big chestnut where Baby Mitchell was born. In the warm and lovely summer he lay safe in his snug nest twenty feet above the ground.How many little brothers and sisters there were, I do not know, for a very sad thing happened, and all of them died but Little Mitchell. I must tell you what this sad thing was that happened to the little squirrels.There was a small log-cabin at the foot of the mountain, and here lived a father and mother and a very large family of very small children. There was no other house near; and the father had to go a great many miles through the woods to his work in a saw-mill that some one had set up in the mountains.Little Mitchell’s First Home“A squirrel’s nest, in a nice hole, high up in the crotch of a tall chestnut tree.” (Page13)And the children had to go such a long way to school, over little rivers that they crossed on narrow foot-logs; and through deep shady woods, where the sun could scarcely send a ray down through the tops of the tall trees; and under tangled rhododendron bushes that were often like little trees they were so large, and in the summer time were covered with masses of splendid white flowers.Yes, it was a beautiful forest, though it was very, very wild; but there were no dangerous animals to hurt the children, excepting once in a while a long rattlesnake that wiggled out of the way as fast as it could if anybody came along.The children loved their forest home, and they could run across the foot-logs without slipping into the little rivers, for they had no shoes, and their pretty bare feet had learned to cling to whateverthey touched, like the feet of the wild animals, and they, you know, never tumble down or slip on a log.When the children had run across the foot-logs, and danced through the dark woods, and skipped along under the rhododendrons far enough, they came to the schoolhouse.You would be surprised to see this schoolhouse, for it was only a little log-hut with one room; and the seats were just rough benches, and there were no desks and no blackboards.The schoolhouse stood on the bank of a little river; and all the children who lived “yon side” the river, as they say there, had to come to school over a long and narrow foot-log. But this log had a railing to hold on by, and the children did not mind going over it any more than you mind walking on the sidewalk. You see, they had their bare feet to cling with.But they did not have to cross the log to go to the schoolhouse very often, for it is almost always “vacation” in the mountains. Sometimes the children go to school three months in the year, but very often there is school for only six weeks at a time. So they have to make the most of the good times, when they all meet together, and play with each other, and learn to read a little.It would be fun to tell you about the little girls who came from ever so far, barefooted and sunbonneted, and the little boys who came from ever so far, barefooted with ragged caps on their heads, to this queer school. And it would be fun to tell of what they did in school, and of the sport they had at recess, playing in the river that ran so close to the schoolhouse door, and in the woods, all full of wild flowers, where therabbits scampered under the trees, showing nothing but a tuft of white down which was their tail. But up in the trees gray squirrels ran about, with tails all big and bushy, and not white at all. It would be fun to tell about these things,—but there is little Baby Mitchell waiting for us up in the top of the chestnut tree, and we must hurry and take him down.But first we must go back to the little log-cabin at the foot of the mountain, and wait for the lady to come along; because, you see, the story all turns on the coming of the lady.One August day, toward night, when it began to get very cool at the foot of the high mountain, the mother of the little children who lived in the log-cabin was very much astonished. The little children were very much astonished too. The dog was so astonished that he forgot tobark; and the very cabbages and cornstalks that grew in the clearing in front of the cabin no doubt were also very much astonished.Such a thing had never happened before; for coming along the path out of the woods were two strangers,—a lady from away off, and a mountain man who was acting as her guide.The lady, on her part, was very much astonished too. She wanted to climb to the top of Mount Mitchell; and somebody had told somebody who had told her that the shortest way up was from a house at the foot, on the east side of the mountain, and that this house was a little hotel where strangers usually went to spend the night before starting up the high mountain.So the lady came from away off, until she got within a few miles of the foot of the high mountain. Here she spent the night in a farmhouse, andnext morning took a mountain man for a guide, who said he knew the way; and they started to walk to the little hotel, which she found was no hotel at all, but only the tiny log-cabin where the father and mother and their children lived.The lady had to walk, because that was the only way to get there. There was no road through the forest, only a narrow path that went waggling along over rocks and rivers and tangly tree-roots, and nobody but a mountaineer could have found it. The lady followed her guide miles and miles, and would have felt very tired, only the air is so refreshing up by the big mountain that you cannot feel very tired, not if you walk ever so far.The lady wore shoes, of course, and she could not get through the woods and over the foot-logs as easily as the little barefooted children. But at last,just before dark, they crossed one more stream over a particularly small and wabbly foot-log, and there they were.“That is the house,” said the guide, as they came out into the clearing where the cabbages and cornstalks were growing.“Where?” said the lady.“There,” said the guide, pointing to the cabin.It was then that the lady felt very much astonished.Ladies always feel very much astonished in these mountains, because nothing ever turns out as they expect.This lady had expected to find a little hotel, you remember.But where is Baby Mitchell all this time? you are asking.Oh, he is safe enough yet. Nothing at all has happened to him, and you must wait patiently until it is time for something to happen.The lady is very tired, remember,—or at least as tired as anybody can be in that enchanted forest; and she is hungry, and must have her supper.When the mother of the little children saw the lady coming, she was glad as well as astonished, and ran to meet her.“Law me! You must be plumb tired out,” she said. “Come right along in, and set down and rest yourself. We hain’t got much, but what we have got you’re welcome to.”That is the way the mountain people always talk. Their grammar is all wrong, but their hearts are all right,—and a good heart is worth a great deal more than good grammar; don’t you think so?So the lady went in. There was nothing else to do. She couldn’tpossiblyhave gone back all that way through the forest and across therivers at night, you know. And though the log-house was so small and so crowded, she felt that she was not in the way, the mother and all the little children looked so friendly at her.She was quite a wonderful lady,—or at least so thought that family in the woods; for while the little children stood looking at her, what do you think?There she sat—with a doll in her hands!It was a little doll, but it had real hair, and when you laid it down it shut its eyes.The little children who lived in the cabin had never seen a doll in their long lives before,—never.But they knew right away what it was for. So did the lady. She knew very well it was meant for children to play with; and presently she laid it in the arms of one of the little girls.And the little girl grabbed it tight in both hands, as if she were afraid it would run away. Then she laid it up over her shoulder, with its curly head in the hollow of her neck, just as her mother held the baby, and she patted it softly with a gentle motherly touch of her chubby little hand, and, oh, how her eyes did shine!Then, wonder of wonders!—there was another doll in the lady’s hand, and she put it into the arms of another little girl; and still another doll came out of her pocket, or somewhere, for the third little girl; and the three dolls were all as much alike as two peas.It was all wonderful. The three little girls would have thought Christmas had come in the middle of the summer, if they had known anything about Christmas, which they did not. Yet they were very good and prettylittle girls, and they had lovely rivers to play in, and a great splendid mountain to look at all their lives.Of course there were some boys,—three of them; and they were about as much interested in the wonderful dolls as were their little sisters. That is, they were until the lady took out of the bag which the guide carried a new jack-knife with two shiny blades; then the boys’ eyes got very shiny too. None of them had ever owned a knife. Their father had one, and when he was at home the boys used to borrow it to whittle the ends of sticks into brushes to kindle the fire with; for there was never a scrap of paper with which to start a fire.You can imagine how those three boys felt when the lady gave each of them a new knife! You can imagine how they felt, I say; but they could not have told you. They really didn’tknow themselves; for they had never felt that way before.What are you asking?—are wenevercoming to Little Mitchell?Yes; but we must have supper first.What has supper to do with it?Oh, everything. For now that the lady is found, the whole story turns on the supper.If it hadn’t been for the supper, the lady would not have found Little Mitchell, and you would never have known a thing about him.You see, the people who lived in the cabin had nothing to eat but corn-pone, which is a kind of coarse cornbread baked in the ashes; for they had no stove,—nothing but a big stone fireplace to do their cooking in.There was nothing but corn-pone and fried cabbage there to eat. So when the lady came, the father took his gun (he had just got home fromthe saw-mill) and went out to get some meat for supper.After a little while he came back with a large gray squirrel; and pretty soon they all had a nice hot supper of corn-pone, fried cabbage, and squirrel-pie.Now squirrel-pie is really no worse than chicken-pie or veal-pie or mutton-pie; but it sounds worse. And of course nobody knew that the squirrel that went into the pie was a poor little mother bunny with a nestful of young babies.I should like to tell you how the lady spent the night in the log-cabin, which had only two rooms for its eleven occupants, counting the lady and her guide who were not expected, and not counting the very littlest baby and the next biggest baby and the three-year old baby, who were all tucked away somewhere—under one of the beds, I think—before supper.The Log Schoolhouse“The schoolhouse stood on the bank of a little river.” (Page17)I say I should like to tell you about that strange night; only, of course, you would not listen, with Baby Mitchell waiting up in his tree to be rescued.But I must say that many rooms do not make kinder hearts or better manners than the lady found in those two crowded little rooms of the log-house.The lady was not used to living as her new friends had to live, and she could not get used to it in time to go to sleep that night. So when morning came she should have felt very tired after the long walk of the day before and the sleepless night. But, remember, she was in an enchanted forest,—that is, it seemed to have enchanted air, for the moment she got out in the morning and breathed deep of the pure high air she felt as fresh as she ever felt in her life.And the school-teacher did look so fresh and pretty!Who was the school-teacher?Why, she was just the school-teacher. She was young and pretty, and the little children loved her, and went to school every morning with her through the deep woods and over the many rivers.She lived at their house during term-time, and she had just come, for school was to begin the next Monday. Her own home was in another part of the mountains.When the lady asked her how she liked living out in this wild and lonely place, and teaching in the wild and lonely schoolhouse, she smiled until her pretty white teeth showed, and said,—“Oh, I like it splendid.”So you see the little children had good reason to love her.

LITTLE MITCHELL

LITTLE MITCHELL

THE STORY OF A MOUNTAIN SQUIRREL

LITTLE MITCHELL’S LADY COMES

Baby Mitchellwas an August squirrel. That is, he was born in the month of August. His pretty gray mother found a nice hole, high up in the crotch of a tall chestnut tree, for her babies’ nest; and I know she lined it with soft fur plucked from her own loving little breast,—for that is the way the squirrel mothers do.

This chestnut tree grew on the side of a steep mountain,—none other than Mount Mitchell, the highest mountain peak in all the eastern half of the United States. It is in North Carolina, where there are a great many beautifulmountains, but none of them more beautiful than Mount Mitchell, with the great forest trees on its slopes.

One of these forest trees was the big chestnut where Baby Mitchell was born. In the warm and lovely summer he lay safe in his snug nest twenty feet above the ground.

How many little brothers and sisters there were, I do not know, for a very sad thing happened, and all of them died but Little Mitchell. I must tell you what this sad thing was that happened to the little squirrels.

There was a small log-cabin at the foot of the mountain, and here lived a father and mother and a very large family of very small children. There was no other house near; and the father had to go a great many miles through the woods to his work in a saw-mill that some one had set up in the mountains.

Little Mitchell’s First Home“A squirrel’s nest, in a nice hole, high up in the crotch of a tall chestnut tree.” (Page13)

Little Mitchell’s First Home“A squirrel’s nest, in a nice hole, high up in the crotch of a tall chestnut tree.” (Page13)

Little Mitchell’s First Home

“A squirrel’s nest, in a nice hole, high up in the crotch of a tall chestnut tree.” (Page13)

And the children had to go such a long way to school, over little rivers that they crossed on narrow foot-logs; and through deep shady woods, where the sun could scarcely send a ray down through the tops of the tall trees; and under tangled rhododendron bushes that were often like little trees they were so large, and in the summer time were covered with masses of splendid white flowers.

Yes, it was a beautiful forest, though it was very, very wild; but there were no dangerous animals to hurt the children, excepting once in a while a long rattlesnake that wiggled out of the way as fast as it could if anybody came along.

The children loved their forest home, and they could run across the foot-logs without slipping into the little rivers, for they had no shoes, and their pretty bare feet had learned to cling to whateverthey touched, like the feet of the wild animals, and they, you know, never tumble down or slip on a log.

When the children had run across the foot-logs, and danced through the dark woods, and skipped along under the rhododendrons far enough, they came to the schoolhouse.

You would be surprised to see this schoolhouse, for it was only a little log-hut with one room; and the seats were just rough benches, and there were no desks and no blackboards.

The schoolhouse stood on the bank of a little river; and all the children who lived “yon side” the river, as they say there, had to come to school over a long and narrow foot-log. But this log had a railing to hold on by, and the children did not mind going over it any more than you mind walking on the sidewalk. You see, they had their bare feet to cling with.

But they did not have to cross the log to go to the schoolhouse very often, for it is almost always “vacation” in the mountains. Sometimes the children go to school three months in the year, but very often there is school for only six weeks at a time. So they have to make the most of the good times, when they all meet together, and play with each other, and learn to read a little.

It would be fun to tell you about the little girls who came from ever so far, barefooted and sunbonneted, and the little boys who came from ever so far, barefooted with ragged caps on their heads, to this queer school. And it would be fun to tell of what they did in school, and of the sport they had at recess, playing in the river that ran so close to the schoolhouse door, and in the woods, all full of wild flowers, where therabbits scampered under the trees, showing nothing but a tuft of white down which was their tail. But up in the trees gray squirrels ran about, with tails all big and bushy, and not white at all. It would be fun to tell about these things,—but there is little Baby Mitchell waiting for us up in the top of the chestnut tree, and we must hurry and take him down.

But first we must go back to the little log-cabin at the foot of the mountain, and wait for the lady to come along; because, you see, the story all turns on the coming of the lady.

One August day, toward night, when it began to get very cool at the foot of the high mountain, the mother of the little children who lived in the log-cabin was very much astonished. The little children were very much astonished too. The dog was so astonished that he forgot tobark; and the very cabbages and cornstalks that grew in the clearing in front of the cabin no doubt were also very much astonished.

Such a thing had never happened before; for coming along the path out of the woods were two strangers,—a lady from away off, and a mountain man who was acting as her guide.

The lady, on her part, was very much astonished too. She wanted to climb to the top of Mount Mitchell; and somebody had told somebody who had told her that the shortest way up was from a house at the foot, on the east side of the mountain, and that this house was a little hotel where strangers usually went to spend the night before starting up the high mountain.

So the lady came from away off, until she got within a few miles of the foot of the high mountain. Here she spent the night in a farmhouse, andnext morning took a mountain man for a guide, who said he knew the way; and they started to walk to the little hotel, which she found was no hotel at all, but only the tiny log-cabin where the father and mother and their children lived.

The lady had to walk, because that was the only way to get there. There was no road through the forest, only a narrow path that went waggling along over rocks and rivers and tangly tree-roots, and nobody but a mountaineer could have found it. The lady followed her guide miles and miles, and would have felt very tired, only the air is so refreshing up by the big mountain that you cannot feel very tired, not if you walk ever so far.

The lady wore shoes, of course, and she could not get through the woods and over the foot-logs as easily as the little barefooted children. But at last,just before dark, they crossed one more stream over a particularly small and wabbly foot-log, and there they were.

“That is the house,” said the guide, as they came out into the clearing where the cabbages and cornstalks were growing.

“Where?” said the lady.

“There,” said the guide, pointing to the cabin.

It was then that the lady felt very much astonished.

Ladies always feel very much astonished in these mountains, because nothing ever turns out as they expect.

This lady had expected to find a little hotel, you remember.

But where is Baby Mitchell all this time? you are asking.

Oh, he is safe enough yet. Nothing at all has happened to him, and you must wait patiently until it is time for something to happen.

The lady is very tired, remember,—or at least as tired as anybody can be in that enchanted forest; and she is hungry, and must have her supper.

When the mother of the little children saw the lady coming, she was glad as well as astonished, and ran to meet her.

“Law me! You must be plumb tired out,” she said. “Come right along in, and set down and rest yourself. We hain’t got much, but what we have got you’re welcome to.”

That is the way the mountain people always talk. Their grammar is all wrong, but their hearts are all right,—and a good heart is worth a great deal more than good grammar; don’t you think so?

So the lady went in. There was nothing else to do. She couldn’tpossiblyhave gone back all that way through the forest and across therivers at night, you know. And though the log-house was so small and so crowded, she felt that she was not in the way, the mother and all the little children looked so friendly at her.

She was quite a wonderful lady,—or at least so thought that family in the woods; for while the little children stood looking at her, what do you think?

There she sat—with a doll in her hands!

It was a little doll, but it had real hair, and when you laid it down it shut its eyes.

The little children who lived in the cabin had never seen a doll in their long lives before,—never.

But they knew right away what it was for. So did the lady. She knew very well it was meant for children to play with; and presently she laid it in the arms of one of the little girls.And the little girl grabbed it tight in both hands, as if she were afraid it would run away. Then she laid it up over her shoulder, with its curly head in the hollow of her neck, just as her mother held the baby, and she patted it softly with a gentle motherly touch of her chubby little hand, and, oh, how her eyes did shine!

Then, wonder of wonders!—there was another doll in the lady’s hand, and she put it into the arms of another little girl; and still another doll came out of her pocket, or somewhere, for the third little girl; and the three dolls were all as much alike as two peas.

It was all wonderful. The three little girls would have thought Christmas had come in the middle of the summer, if they had known anything about Christmas, which they did not. Yet they were very good and prettylittle girls, and they had lovely rivers to play in, and a great splendid mountain to look at all their lives.

Of course there were some boys,—three of them; and they were about as much interested in the wonderful dolls as were their little sisters. That is, they were until the lady took out of the bag which the guide carried a new jack-knife with two shiny blades; then the boys’ eyes got very shiny too. None of them had ever owned a knife. Their father had one, and when he was at home the boys used to borrow it to whittle the ends of sticks into brushes to kindle the fire with; for there was never a scrap of paper with which to start a fire.

You can imagine how those three boys felt when the lady gave each of them a new knife! You can imagine how they felt, I say; but they could not have told you. They really didn’tknow themselves; for they had never felt that way before.

What are you asking?—are wenevercoming to Little Mitchell?

Yes; but we must have supper first.

What has supper to do with it?

Oh, everything. For now that the lady is found, the whole story turns on the supper.

If it hadn’t been for the supper, the lady would not have found Little Mitchell, and you would never have known a thing about him.

You see, the people who lived in the cabin had nothing to eat but corn-pone, which is a kind of coarse cornbread baked in the ashes; for they had no stove,—nothing but a big stone fireplace to do their cooking in.

There was nothing but corn-pone and fried cabbage there to eat. So when the lady came, the father took his gun (he had just got home fromthe saw-mill) and went out to get some meat for supper.

After a little while he came back with a large gray squirrel; and pretty soon they all had a nice hot supper of corn-pone, fried cabbage, and squirrel-pie.

Now squirrel-pie is really no worse than chicken-pie or veal-pie or mutton-pie; but it sounds worse. And of course nobody knew that the squirrel that went into the pie was a poor little mother bunny with a nestful of young babies.

I should like to tell you how the lady spent the night in the log-cabin, which had only two rooms for its eleven occupants, counting the lady and her guide who were not expected, and not counting the very littlest baby and the next biggest baby and the three-year old baby, who were all tucked away somewhere—under one of the beds, I think—before supper.

The Log Schoolhouse“The schoolhouse stood on the bank of a little river.” (Page17)

The Log Schoolhouse“The schoolhouse stood on the bank of a little river.” (Page17)

The Log Schoolhouse

“The schoolhouse stood on the bank of a little river.” (Page17)

I say I should like to tell you about that strange night; only, of course, you would not listen, with Baby Mitchell waiting up in his tree to be rescued.

But I must say that many rooms do not make kinder hearts or better manners than the lady found in those two crowded little rooms of the log-house.

The lady was not used to living as her new friends had to live, and she could not get used to it in time to go to sleep that night. So when morning came she should have felt very tired after the long walk of the day before and the sleepless night. But, remember, she was in an enchanted forest,—that is, it seemed to have enchanted air, for the moment she got out in the morning and breathed deep of the pure high air she felt as fresh as she ever felt in her life.

And the school-teacher did look so fresh and pretty!

Who was the school-teacher?

Why, she was just the school-teacher. She was young and pretty, and the little children loved her, and went to school every morning with her through the deep woods and over the many rivers.

She lived at their house during term-time, and she had just come, for school was to begin the next Monday. Her own home was in another part of the mountains.

When the lady asked her how she liked living out in this wild and lonely place, and teaching in the wild and lonely schoolhouse, she smiled until her pretty white teeth showed, and said,—

“Oh, I like it splendid.”

So you see the little children had good reason to love her.

IILITTLE MITCHELL IS FOUND, AND TAKES A STRANGE JOURNEYWhenthe little gray bunny mother did not come home, the babies in the crotch of the old chestnut tree got very hungry, and I am sure they cried all night.No doubt they were cold too, for they had no little furry mother to curl herself about them and keep them warm. Poor babies! I suppose they cuddled as close together as they could, and cried and cried, and wondered why mother did not come home and take care of them.At last, when morning came, the strongest one—that was our Little Mitchell, you know—felt so desperatethat, although he was only two or three days old and had not got his eyes open yet, he climbed up to the crotch of the tree to find out what he could.All he felt was the cold keen air of the early morning; and then, being all confused, I suppose, and not knowing how high he was from the ground,—for his eyes were tight shut, remember,—he tried to walk out into space, and down he fell,—not to the ground, oh dear, no! If he had fallen to the ground he would have been killed, and this story would never have been told.When he felt himself falling, he caught at the tree-trunk with his little claws, and managed to get hold of a piece of loosened bark. Here he clung, terribly frightened, and crying like a little baby,—which, indeed, he was.Perhaps it was a good thing for him that his eyes were shut, for how frightened he would have been to look downand see the earth so far below him!—such a cold, unfriendly earth, too, with nothing on it for a baby squirrel to eat.I do not know how long he had been clinging there and crying before the lady came. For now it is time for his lady to come along, and when she once comes Little Mitchell will be in the story every minute until it ends.You see, as soon as breakfast was over and they had all eaten all the hot corn-pone and fried cabbage they wanted, the lady was ready to start up the mountain.The little children and their mother and the school-teacher were sorry to see the lady go, and the father looked anxious,—for Mount Mitchell is a very wild mountain and a very big one, and he was afraid they would get lost. He offered to go and show them; but the guide said no, he knew the way.So the lady and her guide started onup the mountain in the cold morning air, and it became so steep right away that the lady had to keep stopping to get her breath.It was while she was stopping to breathe that the guide said,—“Listen! I hear a boomer, and I would like to get to see it.”“Boomer” is their name for the little red squirrel, of which the mountaineers are very fond, and which is not nearly so common there as the big gray squirrel. The people who live down below call the mountain people “mountain boomers,”—why, I do not know, unless perhaps they think they live in the mountains like squirrels.Well, the guide began to look around to find the boomer, and the lady looked around too, and at last they spied a little squirrel clinging to the bark of a tall chestnut tree, twenty feet from the ground, and crying very hard.They soon found that it was no boomer, but a tiny gray squirrel. The guide threw up small sticks and bits of bark to make him run; but he did not stir, even when a bit of bark hit his tail.Then said the guide, “I’m going up to get him.”So up the tree he went, clinging with arms and knees, for the tree-trunk was so big his arms could not reach half-way around it.It was a very hard climb, but the man got there at last, and, catching the little fellow by the tail, came sliding down, the little squirrel squeaking frantically, for it was both frightened and hurt at being handled in that rough way. Its own little bunny mother never picked it up by the tail, you know.The man put the little fellow in the lady’s hand, and, to her surprise, she saw it was a young gray squirrel with its eyes not yet open.Little Mitchell’s First Meal“The Lady dipped the end of her finger in the milk and put it in Little Mitchell’s mouth.” (Page52)And now you know it was Little Mitchell, who had fallen out of his nest and was lying there in the lady’s hand.Such a funny little fellow as he was!—all head and feet, with almost no body at all, and a queer little stub of a tail that was hardly as long as his queer little body.The lady laughed when she saw him, and then she felt very sorry for the helpless little one.What could she do with him? She could not lay him down on the cold mountain and go away and leave him. And yet he must just as surely die if she took him, she thought, for she had nothing with which to feed him.He nosed around in her hand in such a comical, helpless way, not crying now, but whimpering like a verytired, worn-out little baby,—which, you know, is just what he was.Finally the lady started on with him in her hand; but he squirmed and whimpered so, she soon grew tired of holding him—and then, what do you think she did?She had on a warm flannel waist with a soft loose belt, and into the waist she tucked him. In a moment he had worked his way down under the belt, where he snuggled up, stopped crying, and went fast asleep.You see, he was almost dead from cold and weariness.On went the lady, slowly climbing up the steep mountain; and the wonder is that Little Mitchell was not squeezed to death under her belt. But he slept on.On through the great chestnut forest went the lady and her guide,—on past the handsome tulip trees, thegreat oaks, and all kinds of beautiful forest trees.The sun grew hot on the mountain side, and the air became soft and hazy,—a little too soft and hazy for safety on that wild mountain, where storms ride swiftly up like witches from nowhere.But on and up they went, until they came out of the forest to a wide sloping pasture,—a “bald” they call such open places on the mountains.Here they found the ground covered thick with grass and flowers, and a herd of cattle grazing. These half-wild cattle raised their heads as the lady and her guide came out of the forest into their pasture, and some of them shook their long horns and began to step nearer. But the guide shouted and waved a big stick at them, and they went off.And Baby Mitchell slept on.When they were half-way across the “bald” that sloped gently upward, the lady turned around and looked back over the tree-tops.It was a wonderful view.Below was the valley where stood the log-cabin; but she could not see the cabin, it was so close under the mountain; and the valley itself looked like a slit, it was so deep and narrow.And now you know why the night came on so soon, and why the morning sun was so long in shining down into the cabbage patch. The valley was so deep and narrow that the sun could not look into it until it was high up in the sky.Across the narrow valley, and right in front, was a splendid tree-covered spur of the Blue Ridge mountains; and off a little to the left was the queer-looking Table Mountain, stuck up like a big hat set on the headof a mountain. Beyond were billows upon billows of mountains; and beyond them, far off in the distance, the lowlands looked blue and level like the sea.The lady stood several minutes looking at the grand and beautiful view, with Baby Mitchell fast asleep under her belt. Then she went on, and at last they got to the top of the “bald,” and, with a last look back at the wide world below, the lady followed her guide on into the black fir forest.The black fir forest was very black indeed, and the fir trees towered up and up and up so high you could not see their tops, and so thick you could not see the sky through their branches. Oh, but it was dark under them!—it was like walking under thousands of Christmas trees before the candles and presents have been put on; only these trees were ten times as big asChristmas trees. They were balsam firs, the kind you get the sweet-smelling needles from to put into sofa pillows; only these were ten times as big as the balsam firs that grow in the North. But they smelled just as sweet as those, and all the forest was filled with the perfume of them. The ground was covered ankle deep with soft green moss that the lady’s feet sank into as she walked.And everywhere were the rhododendrons. It was too late for them to be in bloom; so they were not as lovely as they are sometimes. When you get into the rhododendrons, you cannot see up into the tree branches, because the rhododendron branches are tangled about you and above you with their stiff green leaves. They make the woods seem dreadfully black and gloomy; but when they are in bloom it is another matter.The lady and the guide went on and on under the twisted rhododendrons, and Baby Mitchell lay fast asleep under the lady’s belt.Then the guide lost the trail.It was, in fact, a great deal easier to lose it than to keep it. Indeed, it could hardly be called a trail at all, it was so little used, and one had to know the mountain very well indeed to get safely to the top.Such a wild and lovely forest as they found now, you never were in. I do not believe such balsam firs grow anywhere else in the world. Their dark green tops make the mountains look black, excepting when the air is hazy and makes them look faint and blue in the distance. But when the air is clear the mountains look black because of the fir trees that grow all the way up to their tops.And when anybody asks, you can tell them that is why the Black Mountains got their name; and Mount Mitchell, you know, is one of the Black Mountains,—the very highest one of all.Well, they lost the trail, the lady and her guide, and soon they had to creep on their hands and knees under the rhododendrons that twisted great tangly arms about them and tripped them up with roots that lay like giant snakes upon the ground. And then they came to awful precipices, and had to creep back again. And sometimes they had to climb over immense fallen logs, slippery with a deep coat of green moss.The lady remembered Baby Mitchell under her belt, and crept along as carefully as she could; yet it is a wonder he wasn’t squeezed to death. But he was a good tired baby, thatsaid never a word, but slept on, warm and snug under the soft belt.It was hard work for the lady, and the air began to smell damp, and sweeter than ever,—the way it does before a rain.And now and then they would get glimpses through the forest to where was a deep gorge with a tremendous tree-clad spur beyond, and down into this gorge went pouring what looked like a river of white mist.The lady was frightened now, for she knew they were lost on the wild mountain, and that the white river she saw was the fog-clouds rolling in.The fog-clouds sometimes shut down on the mountains so thick and heavy that you cannot see your way at all; and then it is not safe to take so much as a step.Little Mitchell Cries for More“He had squirmed out of the blanket.” (Page62)But the guide struggled on as fast as he could, and would not own that they were lost, though his face was all drawn with fear of the wild cloud-covered mountain.At last they reached a little icy stream coming down the mountain and began to climb up its bed, not minding the cold water that soaked their feet. Then on they went as fast as they could struggle through the terrible forest, and just as they got to a trail that the guide knew would lead them to the top the rain began to fall and a cloud closed swiftly about them. But they were on the right path now, so they did not care for the creeping cloud.It was still a long, long walk to the top,—for one thing that always astonishes strangers who go to these mountains is the way distances stretch out. They tell you it is two miles to a place, and when you have gone two miles it is still two miles farther,—onlysometimes when you have gone the two miles it is four more before you get there.Well, they got to the top at last, but by that time the rain was pouring and the clouds had settled down over everything. It was a terrible storm they were in, and so icy cold.But Little Mitchell slept on,—he was so very, very tired, you see, and then the lady had managed somehow to keep him dry and warm.You can see the whole world from the top of Mount Mitchell,—well, no, not really the whole world, but you know what I mean,—you can see so much it seems as if it must be the whole world; and that is why the lady had wanted to go there. But for all she could see that day, she might as well have stayed at home.It is usually that way on Mount Mitchell. No matter how clear it iswhen you start, there is a watchful cloud that goes sneaking up after you, or else comes sneaking down from its hiding-place back of the sky as soon as you come, and the first thing you know it has folded itself down over the mountain-top and blotted out everything from sight.There is a cave on the top of Mount Mitchell, made by a large overhanging rock. People generally go up from the sensible side of the mountain,—which is not the side the lady went up, because she didn’t know any better, you see.The people who go up from the sensible side take blankets and food on the backs of mules, and stay all night in the cave. That is good fun.But the lady had no blankets and no mule,—only a very tired guide, who was so tired because he got frightened on the mountain thinkinghe had lost the way, and a poor little hungry baby squirrel fast asleep under her belt.The lady looked into the cave, and what do you think she found?A couch of balsam boughs; but that doesn’t count.An old coffee-pot; but that doesn’t count.A little can partly full of condensed milk; and that does count,—for, you see, it saved Baby Mitchell’s life.Somebody had been camping there sometime, and had left the can of milk, and it had not turned sour because it is so cold up there even in midsummer.While the guide was trying to make a fire out of wet sticks, the lady took Little Mitchell out from under her belt,—and a very limp baby he was by this time, for he was nearly starved to death, of course.She dipped the end of her finger in the milk and put it in Little Mitchell’s mouth. Perhaps you think he wouldn’t eat condensed milk. You should have seen him! He licked every bit from the lady’s finger, and then cried for more.She fed him all she dared,—for when you are almost starved it is dangerous to eat too much at a time, you know. When she would give him no more, he cried very hard,—he was such a hungry baby, and the milk tasted so good. But pretty soon he quieted down and went fast asleep again, and was tucked back under the soft belt.The guide could not start a fire,—which shows he was not a “truly” guide, for a “truly” guide can make a fire out of icicles, you know.So, all wet and shivery, they sat in the cave and ate some lunch outof the lady’s bag, which had been carried by the guide.They hardly dared to rest at all, for they had to get to the foot of the mountain before night; so in a few minutes they started down.

LITTLE MITCHELL IS FOUND, AND TAKES A STRANGE JOURNEY

Whenthe little gray bunny mother did not come home, the babies in the crotch of the old chestnut tree got very hungry, and I am sure they cried all night.

No doubt they were cold too, for they had no little furry mother to curl herself about them and keep them warm. Poor babies! I suppose they cuddled as close together as they could, and cried and cried, and wondered why mother did not come home and take care of them.

At last, when morning came, the strongest one—that was our Little Mitchell, you know—felt so desperatethat, although he was only two or three days old and had not got his eyes open yet, he climbed up to the crotch of the tree to find out what he could.

All he felt was the cold keen air of the early morning; and then, being all confused, I suppose, and not knowing how high he was from the ground,—for his eyes were tight shut, remember,—he tried to walk out into space, and down he fell,—not to the ground, oh dear, no! If he had fallen to the ground he would have been killed, and this story would never have been told.

When he felt himself falling, he caught at the tree-trunk with his little claws, and managed to get hold of a piece of loosened bark. Here he clung, terribly frightened, and crying like a little baby,—which, indeed, he was.

Perhaps it was a good thing for him that his eyes were shut, for how frightened he would have been to look downand see the earth so far below him!—such a cold, unfriendly earth, too, with nothing on it for a baby squirrel to eat.

I do not know how long he had been clinging there and crying before the lady came. For now it is time for his lady to come along, and when she once comes Little Mitchell will be in the story every minute until it ends.

You see, as soon as breakfast was over and they had all eaten all the hot corn-pone and fried cabbage they wanted, the lady was ready to start up the mountain.

The little children and their mother and the school-teacher were sorry to see the lady go, and the father looked anxious,—for Mount Mitchell is a very wild mountain and a very big one, and he was afraid they would get lost. He offered to go and show them; but the guide said no, he knew the way.

So the lady and her guide started onup the mountain in the cold morning air, and it became so steep right away that the lady had to keep stopping to get her breath.

It was while she was stopping to breathe that the guide said,—

“Listen! I hear a boomer, and I would like to get to see it.”

“Boomer” is their name for the little red squirrel, of which the mountaineers are very fond, and which is not nearly so common there as the big gray squirrel. The people who live down below call the mountain people “mountain boomers,”—why, I do not know, unless perhaps they think they live in the mountains like squirrels.

Well, the guide began to look around to find the boomer, and the lady looked around too, and at last they spied a little squirrel clinging to the bark of a tall chestnut tree, twenty feet from the ground, and crying very hard.

They soon found that it was no boomer, but a tiny gray squirrel. The guide threw up small sticks and bits of bark to make him run; but he did not stir, even when a bit of bark hit his tail.

Then said the guide, “I’m going up to get him.”

So up the tree he went, clinging with arms and knees, for the tree-trunk was so big his arms could not reach half-way around it.

It was a very hard climb, but the man got there at last, and, catching the little fellow by the tail, came sliding down, the little squirrel squeaking frantically, for it was both frightened and hurt at being handled in that rough way. Its own little bunny mother never picked it up by the tail, you know.

The man put the little fellow in the lady’s hand, and, to her surprise, she saw it was a young gray squirrel with its eyes not yet open.

Little Mitchell’s First Meal“The Lady dipped the end of her finger in the milk and put it in Little Mitchell’s mouth.” (Page52)

Little Mitchell’s First Meal“The Lady dipped the end of her finger in the milk and put it in Little Mitchell’s mouth.” (Page52)

Little Mitchell’s First Meal

“The Lady dipped the end of her finger in the milk and put it in Little Mitchell’s mouth.” (Page52)

And now you know it was Little Mitchell, who had fallen out of his nest and was lying there in the lady’s hand.

Such a funny little fellow as he was!—all head and feet, with almost no body at all, and a queer little stub of a tail that was hardly as long as his queer little body.

The lady laughed when she saw him, and then she felt very sorry for the helpless little one.

What could she do with him? She could not lay him down on the cold mountain and go away and leave him. And yet he must just as surely die if she took him, she thought, for she had nothing with which to feed him.

He nosed around in her hand in such a comical, helpless way, not crying now, but whimpering like a verytired, worn-out little baby,—which, you know, is just what he was.

Finally the lady started on with him in her hand; but he squirmed and whimpered so, she soon grew tired of holding him—and then, what do you think she did?

She had on a warm flannel waist with a soft loose belt, and into the waist she tucked him. In a moment he had worked his way down under the belt, where he snuggled up, stopped crying, and went fast asleep.

You see, he was almost dead from cold and weariness.

On went the lady, slowly climbing up the steep mountain; and the wonder is that Little Mitchell was not squeezed to death under her belt. But he slept on.

On through the great chestnut forest went the lady and her guide,—on past the handsome tulip trees, thegreat oaks, and all kinds of beautiful forest trees.

The sun grew hot on the mountain side, and the air became soft and hazy,—a little too soft and hazy for safety on that wild mountain, where storms ride swiftly up like witches from nowhere.

But on and up they went, until they came out of the forest to a wide sloping pasture,—a “bald” they call such open places on the mountains.

Here they found the ground covered thick with grass and flowers, and a herd of cattle grazing. These half-wild cattle raised their heads as the lady and her guide came out of the forest into their pasture, and some of them shook their long horns and began to step nearer. But the guide shouted and waved a big stick at them, and they went off.

And Baby Mitchell slept on.

When they were half-way across the “bald” that sloped gently upward, the lady turned around and looked back over the tree-tops.

It was a wonderful view.

Below was the valley where stood the log-cabin; but she could not see the cabin, it was so close under the mountain; and the valley itself looked like a slit, it was so deep and narrow.

And now you know why the night came on so soon, and why the morning sun was so long in shining down into the cabbage patch. The valley was so deep and narrow that the sun could not look into it until it was high up in the sky.

Across the narrow valley, and right in front, was a splendid tree-covered spur of the Blue Ridge mountains; and off a little to the left was the queer-looking Table Mountain, stuck up like a big hat set on the headof a mountain. Beyond were billows upon billows of mountains; and beyond them, far off in the distance, the lowlands looked blue and level like the sea.

The lady stood several minutes looking at the grand and beautiful view, with Baby Mitchell fast asleep under her belt. Then she went on, and at last they got to the top of the “bald,” and, with a last look back at the wide world below, the lady followed her guide on into the black fir forest.

The black fir forest was very black indeed, and the fir trees towered up and up and up so high you could not see their tops, and so thick you could not see the sky through their branches. Oh, but it was dark under them!—it was like walking under thousands of Christmas trees before the candles and presents have been put on; only these trees were ten times as big asChristmas trees. They were balsam firs, the kind you get the sweet-smelling needles from to put into sofa pillows; only these were ten times as big as the balsam firs that grow in the North. But they smelled just as sweet as those, and all the forest was filled with the perfume of them. The ground was covered ankle deep with soft green moss that the lady’s feet sank into as she walked.

And everywhere were the rhododendrons. It was too late for them to be in bloom; so they were not as lovely as they are sometimes. When you get into the rhododendrons, you cannot see up into the tree branches, because the rhododendron branches are tangled about you and above you with their stiff green leaves. They make the woods seem dreadfully black and gloomy; but when they are in bloom it is another matter.

The lady and the guide went on and on under the twisted rhododendrons, and Baby Mitchell lay fast asleep under the lady’s belt.

Then the guide lost the trail.

It was, in fact, a great deal easier to lose it than to keep it. Indeed, it could hardly be called a trail at all, it was so little used, and one had to know the mountain very well indeed to get safely to the top.

Such a wild and lovely forest as they found now, you never were in. I do not believe such balsam firs grow anywhere else in the world. Their dark green tops make the mountains look black, excepting when the air is hazy and makes them look faint and blue in the distance. But when the air is clear the mountains look black because of the fir trees that grow all the way up to their tops.

And when anybody asks, you can tell them that is why the Black Mountains got their name; and Mount Mitchell, you know, is one of the Black Mountains,—the very highest one of all.

Well, they lost the trail, the lady and her guide, and soon they had to creep on their hands and knees under the rhododendrons that twisted great tangly arms about them and tripped them up with roots that lay like giant snakes upon the ground. And then they came to awful precipices, and had to creep back again. And sometimes they had to climb over immense fallen logs, slippery with a deep coat of green moss.

The lady remembered Baby Mitchell under her belt, and crept along as carefully as she could; yet it is a wonder he wasn’t squeezed to death. But he was a good tired baby, thatsaid never a word, but slept on, warm and snug under the soft belt.

It was hard work for the lady, and the air began to smell damp, and sweeter than ever,—the way it does before a rain.

And now and then they would get glimpses through the forest to where was a deep gorge with a tremendous tree-clad spur beyond, and down into this gorge went pouring what looked like a river of white mist.

The lady was frightened now, for she knew they were lost on the wild mountain, and that the white river she saw was the fog-clouds rolling in.

The fog-clouds sometimes shut down on the mountains so thick and heavy that you cannot see your way at all; and then it is not safe to take so much as a step.

Little Mitchell Cries for More“He had squirmed out of the blanket.” (Page62)

Little Mitchell Cries for More“He had squirmed out of the blanket.” (Page62)

Little Mitchell Cries for More

“He had squirmed out of the blanket.” (Page62)

But the guide struggled on as fast as he could, and would not own that they were lost, though his face was all drawn with fear of the wild cloud-covered mountain.

At last they reached a little icy stream coming down the mountain and began to climb up its bed, not minding the cold water that soaked their feet. Then on they went as fast as they could struggle through the terrible forest, and just as they got to a trail that the guide knew would lead them to the top the rain began to fall and a cloud closed swiftly about them. But they were on the right path now, so they did not care for the creeping cloud.

It was still a long, long walk to the top,—for one thing that always astonishes strangers who go to these mountains is the way distances stretch out. They tell you it is two miles to a place, and when you have gone two miles it is still two miles farther,—onlysometimes when you have gone the two miles it is four more before you get there.

Well, they got to the top at last, but by that time the rain was pouring and the clouds had settled down over everything. It was a terrible storm they were in, and so icy cold.

But Little Mitchell slept on,—he was so very, very tired, you see, and then the lady had managed somehow to keep him dry and warm.

You can see the whole world from the top of Mount Mitchell,—well, no, not really the whole world, but you know what I mean,—you can see so much it seems as if it must be the whole world; and that is why the lady had wanted to go there. But for all she could see that day, she might as well have stayed at home.

It is usually that way on Mount Mitchell. No matter how clear it iswhen you start, there is a watchful cloud that goes sneaking up after you, or else comes sneaking down from its hiding-place back of the sky as soon as you come, and the first thing you know it has folded itself down over the mountain-top and blotted out everything from sight.

There is a cave on the top of Mount Mitchell, made by a large overhanging rock. People generally go up from the sensible side of the mountain,—which is not the side the lady went up, because she didn’t know any better, you see.

The people who go up from the sensible side take blankets and food on the backs of mules, and stay all night in the cave. That is good fun.

But the lady had no blankets and no mule,—only a very tired guide, who was so tired because he got frightened on the mountain thinkinghe had lost the way, and a poor little hungry baby squirrel fast asleep under her belt.

The lady looked into the cave, and what do you think she found?

A couch of balsam boughs; but that doesn’t count.

An old coffee-pot; but that doesn’t count.

A little can partly full of condensed milk; and that does count,—for, you see, it saved Baby Mitchell’s life.

Somebody had been camping there sometime, and had left the can of milk, and it had not turned sour because it is so cold up there even in midsummer.

While the guide was trying to make a fire out of wet sticks, the lady took Little Mitchell out from under her belt,—and a very limp baby he was by this time, for he was nearly starved to death, of course.

She dipped the end of her finger in the milk and put it in Little Mitchell’s mouth. Perhaps you think he wouldn’t eat condensed milk. You should have seen him! He licked every bit from the lady’s finger, and then cried for more.

She fed him all she dared,—for when you are almost starved it is dangerous to eat too much at a time, you know. When she would give him no more, he cried very hard,—he was such a hungry baby, and the milk tasted so good. But pretty soon he quieted down and went fast asleep again, and was tucked back under the soft belt.

The guide could not start a fire,—which shows he was not a “truly” guide, for a “truly” guide can make a fire out of icicles, you know.

So, all wet and shivery, they sat in the cave and ate some lunch outof the lady’s bag, which had been carried by the guide.

They hardly dared to rest at all, for they had to get to the foot of the mountain before night; so in a few minutes they started down.

IIILITTLE MITCHELL’S FIRST RIDE, AND HOW HE AND HIS LADY GET HOMEOh, no, indeed! They didn’t try to go back the way they came up. They went down the sensible side of the mountain. The distance was more than twice as great, but there was a plain path all the way.But first they stopped a minute to look at the Mitchell monument. I must tell you about this. It is made of metal, and is fastened with four strong wire cables, to keep it from blowing down,—for there are terrible winds on the top of Mount Mitchell. The monument is placed over the grave of Dr. Mitchell, for whom the big mountain is named, because heloved it so, and went up to the top of it a great many times, and measured it to find out how high it is; but one day the clouds came down, and he stayed so long that he got lost on his beautiful mountain, and died there.So the mountain was named after Dr. Mitchell; and Baby Mitchell, as you have guessed long before this, was named after the mountain, because the lady found him on the side of it.Well, they started down in the rain, and the path was plain enough, for mules sometimes came up it as I have told you. But it was a hard path to walk in, for the roots of the big trees that grew so close together had come up out of the ground, as tree roots do, and had twisted about everywhere. Sometimes it was like going down a flight of break-neck stairs, the path was so steep, and the twistedroots made the steps. Besides, there were deep holes full of water that your feet kept sinking down into.But in spite of all this, it was a beautiful forest. And soon the lady forgot how cold and tired she had been, and went along as happy as could be. You see, the forest was so lovely, all dripping wet, and the air was so fine, she had to feel happy. The dampness made the moss like king’s velvet, so soft and deep and green.And the great fir trees towered high up toward the sky, and stood so close together there was scarcely room to pass between them; and it was all dim and half dark, because of the trees overhead, and the cloud over the trees.After a while they got out of the firs into the briar patch; and here the sun was trying to break throughthe clouds. And after the briar patch, where it was not so steep, they came into another kind of forest.They had got below the fir trees, and now went along under the broad-leaved oaks, and chestnuts, and lindens, and many other mountain trees.The path got smoother, excepting where they had to cross the beds of rocky streams, full and roaring from the rain. It wound back and forth on the mountain-side, and was not so steep, and the lady kept on feeling very happy, the forest was so lovely.At last they got down the mountain and came to a river that was hard to cross. It went rushing along, and they had to jump from rock to rock to get over. But they managed it, and then went on through more lovely woods, till they got to Mr. Dolph Wilson’s house.This house had several rooms, and the Wilsons were used to having strangers come and stay with them on their way to or from the mountain. They had a mule named Belle, that had been up,—oh, I don’t know how many times,—and she could walk in the holes between the tree roots on the steep part, and over the rocky beds of the streams, without tumbling down.As soon as the lady got into the house, she asked for some milk, which she warmed over the kitchen stove, not to drink herself,—oh dear, no,—but for the poor little baby squirrel that was lying all snuggled up asleep under her belt.At first he would not drink from the spoon; it was hard and cold, and he did not know how to drink in that way. But presently he happened to get the edge of it in his mouth, and tasted the good warm milk. How he did drink it then! He held the spoon between his lips, and drank just as you drink from a tumbler; and I don’t suppose anything in the world ever tasted better to any one than that milk did to Baby Mitchell.Little Mitchell in His Lady’s Cap“All curled up in a little round ball in his lady’s cap.” (Page73)Then the lady took a piece of soft cloth for a blanket, and wrapped him up in it, and took him to her bedroom, where she put him to bed, and left him while she got warm and dry and had her supper.Do you want to know about his bed?Well, you see, the mountain people use feather-beds, and they have two or three beds in one room. That is the way they like to live,—a great many people together in one room.But the lady did not like this way, so she had a room to herself, with two big beds in it, and there was a thick feather-bed on each of them. Shepunched her fists down into one of the feather-beds until she had made quite a deep hole, and in this she buried Little Mitchell in his blanket.You see, young squirrels, like other babies, need to be kept warm.So Baby Mitchell had a whole feather-bed to himself that night, and he slept without a sound until the lady unrolled him the next morning.She hardly expected to find him alive, he was such a tender little thing to undergo such hardships. Starving, and sleeping under ladies’ belts, and being carried in that way up a rough mountain and then down again, and fed on condensed milk and cow’s milk, and put to sleep at last in a feather-bed, one would think would be enough to wear out any squirrel so young it couldn’t open its eyes.But it didn’t wear out Baby Mitchell.When the lady unrolled him, there he was, as alive as could be and as warm as a kitten. She laughed when she saw him, he was so little and the bed so big!As soon as she unrolled him, he lifted up his head, and then he opened his mouth and screamed for his breakfast. He was used to being cared for earlier in the morning, in his home in the tree, and he was starving hungry.The lady hurried to give him some warm milk, and when he had drunk it he went fast asleep right away, and she wrapped him up and put him in the feather-bed again, and went off.When she came back he had squirmed out of the blanket and was standing up as straight as he could on his funny little legs, and holding up his funny head, with his eyes still tight shut. And he was screaming at the top of his voice, “Oh, come andtake me! come and take me!” At least that is what the lady said he meant, for the minute she put her hand on him he stopped crying.So of course she cuddled him up against her cheek for a minute, and talked to him, and comforted him, and then gave him another drink of warm milk.You see, she had left him until he got hungry, and then he had squirmed out to look for his lady; and when he could not find her he screamed and cried. He always did make a great fuss when he was hungry.Little Mitchell and his lady were comfortable enough at the home of Mr. Dolph Wilson, who, you must not forget, lives at the foot of the sensible side of the great Mount Mitchell; and if you ever decide to go to the top of that mountain, that is the very best way to go. Only itwill take you a long time to get to the Wilsons’ from anywhere,—almost as long as it would take to go to the moon if there were a rapid-transit trolley up there.But you will see a very lovely valley if you do go,—not to the moon, to Mr. Adolph Wilson’s, I mean,—and a beautiful cold river with a great many large smooth rocks in its bottom, and as handsome a forest as exists this side of the moon, or the other side either, as far as I know.Besides, there are the young Wilsons, who will be glad to see you, and who will show you over the mountains round about; and, finally, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson will take you up Mount Mitchell on Belle, the mule, if you want to go that way.Mr. Dolph Wilson is the son of “Big Tom,” the most famous bear-hunter in these parts. It was hewho found the body of Dr. Mitchell when every one else had given up the search. He loves to tell the story of that search, and it would make you cry, it is so sad,—for “Big Tom” loved Dr. Mitchell. But if you want to hear him tell the story, which is well worth going a long distance for, you will need to go soon, for “Big Tom” is a very old man now, so old that he cannot have a great many more years to live.Well, the lady had to get back home; so the day after she got to his house Mr. Dolph Wilson drove her and the guide and Baby Mitchell, in his carriage, with the two little, lazy, long-eared mules, for ten miles. They stopped at “Big Tom’s” log-cabin to see him and hear him tell his story, and then they went on.Their way was over a rough mountain road, where they had to ford agreat many stony streams and a shining river two or three times.But Baby Mitchell did not care anything about this, for he was asleep in the guide’s hand. You see, at that time of his life he did almost nothing but sleep and eat, and he never cried at all excepting when he was hungry.The big, kind-hearted guide looked very funny holding Baby Mitchell so carefully in one hand, and the little can of condensed milk in the other, while the carriage bumped and jerked over the rough road. For of course they had to take along the can of milk for fear they might not be able to get anything else for Baby Mitchell’s dinner.Mr. Dolph Wilson could take them only ten miles on their way, because he had to go back home and attend to some men who had come from everso far to go fishing for trout in the river by his house.But ten miles was enough, for the lady could easily walk to her next stopping-place, which she did, along a lovely valley with the high mountains on all sides of her; and she carried Little Mitchell now, while the guide took her bag and the can of milk.At noon she sat down under a tree by the roadside. So few people live along here that it was as quiet and lonely where the lady stopped to rest as though it had been in the midst of the forest.She unrolled Baby Mitchell and let him lie and stretch his limbs in the warm sun, which he did in a very comical manner,—for all the world like a nice, comfortable human baby. Then she gave him some condensed milk, and he had no sooner eaten itthan he fell fast asleep again, and she rolled him up in his blanket and laid him on a stone while she ate her lunch.When she was rested, they went on until they reached the place where the lady was to spend the night. The guide went home, and he wanted very much to take Baby Mitchell for his children to play with. But of course the lady could not allow that. The little fellow was altogether too young and tender to be handled by careless children who might not know how to avoid hurting him. So she kept him with her; and again he had good warm milk for his supper, and was put to sleep in a whole feather-bed.The next morning Baby Mitchell and the lady took another long drive. This time they had to go in a lumber wagon, over a road that was, oh, so rough! Even Baby Mitchell kept waking up, the wagon jolted so. They forded deep rivers, and they went down mountains and up mountains; but by noon they got back to the place where the lady started from when she went ever so far to the foot of Mount Mitchell.Little Mitchell Warming Himself“He would flatten himself out and warm the under side of his body before the fire.” (Page77)This place was a log-house, but it was not like the log-houses of the mountain people. It was a beautiful house, and belonged to dear friends of the lady. They had built it that they might come deep into the mountains to live every summer.There were no feather-beds here, and there were a number of cats. But you will want to know more about them, for they were very remarkable cats.The gentleman at this house where Baby Mitchell’s lady was visiting gave him a nice little wooden box, with a great many holes bored in it to let inthe air; and the gentleman’s wife gave him some soft cotton for a bed. Then Baby Mitchell’s lady, and the gentleman, and the gentleman’s wife, all looked at Baby Mitchell. His lady had scarcely taken time for that before, she was so occupied in getting him safe through.Such a funny Baby Mitchell! All head and feet, you know, with the queerest little fuzzy tail! And those eyes tight shut! The gentleman said he never would have any eyes; but he only said that to tease the lady, and the gentleman’s wife said, “Oh, shame!” for she had quite fallen in love with the ridiculous-looking little furry baby.Then the lady took Baby Mitchell up to her own pretty room and laid him on the bed, rolled up in his blanket, while she went to eat her supper. When she came back witha cup of warm milk for him, she took up the little roll of blanket, and what do you think!It was empty. No Baby Mitchell there!The lady thought of the cats; but the door was tight shut, and there were screens in the windows. She looked on the bed and on the floor, but saw no Baby Mitchell. Then she began, as well as she could, to make the little noise that Baby Mitchell made when he was hungry; and presently, if you will believe it, she heard something answer her. So she kept calling, and Baby Mitchell kept answering, until at last she found him; and where do you think he was?He had managed to crawl out of his blanket, and no doubt he felt very lonely and tired and hungry, so he started out to find his lady. He hadscrambled down to the floor, and gone across the room, and climbed upon a low couch under the window; and on the pillow of the couch was lying his lady’s cap, where she had left it a few minutes before. And here she found him, all curled up into a little round ball on the top of her cap. He must have smelled it, and gone there.So the lady said, “It is time now for you to have a room of your own, where you cannot get lost.”Then she took the cotton that her friend, the gentleman’s wife, had given her, and put it into the box that her friend the gentleman had bored full of holes, and made a soft bed for Baby Mitchell. Then she gave him a good supper of warm milk, and put him to bed in his box, and he went fast asleep and slept soundly until the next morning.After breakfast next day the ladyput Baby Mitchell on the couch while she fixed his box, and when she went to take him,—what do you think? He had one round black eye wide open! He didn’t seem to know he had an open eye, though, and went nosing about just as he did when he had no eye at all.Next day open came the other round black eye, and then all at once Baby Mitchell seemed to be able to see. And if you will believe it, he was now afraid of his lady! He probably had not expected to open his eyes on a lady instead of on a furry little bunny mother; and so he was as badly frightened as though he had never licked condensed milk from her finger, nor been taken care of by her through more than half of his short life.Little Mitchell’s First Chestnut“He took it in his baby hands, and sat up, and looked around, very wise indeed.” (Page113)No, not quite so badly frightened, either; for when his lady caught himand covered up his bright eyes, he smelled her hands and was not afraid, and very soon he got to know her by sight.She used to give him warm milk out of a spoon three or four times a day, and every day he took a little more, and every day he grew a little larger. After he had eaten he would climb all over his lady, and sit on her shoulder or on her knee for a few minutes; but he would soon get sleepy and be glad to creep into his warm nest, when his lady would shut the box cover down tight over him—so that if a cat should happen to get into the room and find his box, and should try ever so hard to get him out, she could not do it.Sometimes Baby Mitchell would climb up on the wire screen that stood before the fireplace; and in the early morning, when the air was cooland there was a fire blazing in the fireplace, he used to like to flatten out on the screen and warm the little white underside of his body. But soon it would get too hot for him; and then do you think he would climb down again? Not at all. He would look at his lady out of his big black eyes, and nod his head at her as much as to say, “Come and take me down,”—which she always did.So, you see, he was very much petted and spoiled. Everybody in the house petted and spoiled him—excepting the cats, and they longed to pet him, and I am perfectly sure that if they had done so they would have completely spoiled him.

LITTLE MITCHELL’S FIRST RIDE, AND HOW HE AND HIS LADY GET HOME

Oh, no, indeed! They didn’t try to go back the way they came up. They went down the sensible side of the mountain. The distance was more than twice as great, but there was a plain path all the way.

But first they stopped a minute to look at the Mitchell monument. I must tell you about this. It is made of metal, and is fastened with four strong wire cables, to keep it from blowing down,—for there are terrible winds on the top of Mount Mitchell. The monument is placed over the grave of Dr. Mitchell, for whom the big mountain is named, because heloved it so, and went up to the top of it a great many times, and measured it to find out how high it is; but one day the clouds came down, and he stayed so long that he got lost on his beautiful mountain, and died there.

So the mountain was named after Dr. Mitchell; and Baby Mitchell, as you have guessed long before this, was named after the mountain, because the lady found him on the side of it.

Well, they started down in the rain, and the path was plain enough, for mules sometimes came up it as I have told you. But it was a hard path to walk in, for the roots of the big trees that grew so close together had come up out of the ground, as tree roots do, and had twisted about everywhere. Sometimes it was like going down a flight of break-neck stairs, the path was so steep, and the twistedroots made the steps. Besides, there were deep holes full of water that your feet kept sinking down into.

But in spite of all this, it was a beautiful forest. And soon the lady forgot how cold and tired she had been, and went along as happy as could be. You see, the forest was so lovely, all dripping wet, and the air was so fine, she had to feel happy. The dampness made the moss like king’s velvet, so soft and deep and green.

And the great fir trees towered high up toward the sky, and stood so close together there was scarcely room to pass between them; and it was all dim and half dark, because of the trees overhead, and the cloud over the trees.

After a while they got out of the firs into the briar patch; and here the sun was trying to break throughthe clouds. And after the briar patch, where it was not so steep, they came into another kind of forest.

They had got below the fir trees, and now went along under the broad-leaved oaks, and chestnuts, and lindens, and many other mountain trees.

The path got smoother, excepting where they had to cross the beds of rocky streams, full and roaring from the rain. It wound back and forth on the mountain-side, and was not so steep, and the lady kept on feeling very happy, the forest was so lovely.

At last they got down the mountain and came to a river that was hard to cross. It went rushing along, and they had to jump from rock to rock to get over. But they managed it, and then went on through more lovely woods, till they got to Mr. Dolph Wilson’s house.

This house had several rooms, and the Wilsons were used to having strangers come and stay with them on their way to or from the mountain. They had a mule named Belle, that had been up,—oh, I don’t know how many times,—and she could walk in the holes between the tree roots on the steep part, and over the rocky beds of the streams, without tumbling down.

As soon as the lady got into the house, she asked for some milk, which she warmed over the kitchen stove, not to drink herself,—oh dear, no,—but for the poor little baby squirrel that was lying all snuggled up asleep under her belt.

At first he would not drink from the spoon; it was hard and cold, and he did not know how to drink in that way. But presently he happened to get the edge of it in his mouth, and tasted the good warm milk. How he did drink it then! He held the spoon between his lips, and drank just as you drink from a tumbler; and I don’t suppose anything in the world ever tasted better to any one than that milk did to Baby Mitchell.

Little Mitchell in His Lady’s Cap“All curled up in a little round ball in his lady’s cap.” (Page73)

Little Mitchell in His Lady’s Cap“All curled up in a little round ball in his lady’s cap.” (Page73)

Little Mitchell in His Lady’s Cap

“All curled up in a little round ball in his lady’s cap.” (Page73)

Then the lady took a piece of soft cloth for a blanket, and wrapped him up in it, and took him to her bedroom, where she put him to bed, and left him while she got warm and dry and had her supper.

Do you want to know about his bed?

Well, you see, the mountain people use feather-beds, and they have two or three beds in one room. That is the way they like to live,—a great many people together in one room.

But the lady did not like this way, so she had a room to herself, with two big beds in it, and there was a thick feather-bed on each of them. Shepunched her fists down into one of the feather-beds until she had made quite a deep hole, and in this she buried Little Mitchell in his blanket.

You see, young squirrels, like other babies, need to be kept warm.

So Baby Mitchell had a whole feather-bed to himself that night, and he slept without a sound until the lady unrolled him the next morning.

She hardly expected to find him alive, he was such a tender little thing to undergo such hardships. Starving, and sleeping under ladies’ belts, and being carried in that way up a rough mountain and then down again, and fed on condensed milk and cow’s milk, and put to sleep at last in a feather-bed, one would think would be enough to wear out any squirrel so young it couldn’t open its eyes.

But it didn’t wear out Baby Mitchell.

When the lady unrolled him, there he was, as alive as could be and as warm as a kitten. She laughed when she saw him, he was so little and the bed so big!

As soon as she unrolled him, he lifted up his head, and then he opened his mouth and screamed for his breakfast. He was used to being cared for earlier in the morning, in his home in the tree, and he was starving hungry.

The lady hurried to give him some warm milk, and when he had drunk it he went fast asleep right away, and she wrapped him up and put him in the feather-bed again, and went off.

When she came back he had squirmed out of the blanket and was standing up as straight as he could on his funny little legs, and holding up his funny head, with his eyes still tight shut. And he was screaming at the top of his voice, “Oh, come andtake me! come and take me!” At least that is what the lady said he meant, for the minute she put her hand on him he stopped crying.

So of course she cuddled him up against her cheek for a minute, and talked to him, and comforted him, and then gave him another drink of warm milk.

You see, she had left him until he got hungry, and then he had squirmed out to look for his lady; and when he could not find her he screamed and cried. He always did make a great fuss when he was hungry.

Little Mitchell and his lady were comfortable enough at the home of Mr. Dolph Wilson, who, you must not forget, lives at the foot of the sensible side of the great Mount Mitchell; and if you ever decide to go to the top of that mountain, that is the very best way to go. Only itwill take you a long time to get to the Wilsons’ from anywhere,—almost as long as it would take to go to the moon if there were a rapid-transit trolley up there.

But you will see a very lovely valley if you do go,—not to the moon, to Mr. Adolph Wilson’s, I mean,—and a beautiful cold river with a great many large smooth rocks in its bottom, and as handsome a forest as exists this side of the moon, or the other side either, as far as I know.

Besides, there are the young Wilsons, who will be glad to see you, and who will show you over the mountains round about; and, finally, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson will take you up Mount Mitchell on Belle, the mule, if you want to go that way.

Mr. Dolph Wilson is the son of “Big Tom,” the most famous bear-hunter in these parts. It was hewho found the body of Dr. Mitchell when every one else had given up the search. He loves to tell the story of that search, and it would make you cry, it is so sad,—for “Big Tom” loved Dr. Mitchell. But if you want to hear him tell the story, which is well worth going a long distance for, you will need to go soon, for “Big Tom” is a very old man now, so old that he cannot have a great many more years to live.

Well, the lady had to get back home; so the day after she got to his house Mr. Dolph Wilson drove her and the guide and Baby Mitchell, in his carriage, with the two little, lazy, long-eared mules, for ten miles. They stopped at “Big Tom’s” log-cabin to see him and hear him tell his story, and then they went on.

Their way was over a rough mountain road, where they had to ford agreat many stony streams and a shining river two or three times.

But Baby Mitchell did not care anything about this, for he was asleep in the guide’s hand. You see, at that time of his life he did almost nothing but sleep and eat, and he never cried at all excepting when he was hungry.

The big, kind-hearted guide looked very funny holding Baby Mitchell so carefully in one hand, and the little can of condensed milk in the other, while the carriage bumped and jerked over the rough road. For of course they had to take along the can of milk for fear they might not be able to get anything else for Baby Mitchell’s dinner.

Mr. Dolph Wilson could take them only ten miles on their way, because he had to go back home and attend to some men who had come from everso far to go fishing for trout in the river by his house.

But ten miles was enough, for the lady could easily walk to her next stopping-place, which she did, along a lovely valley with the high mountains on all sides of her; and she carried Little Mitchell now, while the guide took her bag and the can of milk.

At noon she sat down under a tree by the roadside. So few people live along here that it was as quiet and lonely where the lady stopped to rest as though it had been in the midst of the forest.

She unrolled Baby Mitchell and let him lie and stretch his limbs in the warm sun, which he did in a very comical manner,—for all the world like a nice, comfortable human baby. Then she gave him some condensed milk, and he had no sooner eaten itthan he fell fast asleep again, and she rolled him up in his blanket and laid him on a stone while she ate her lunch.

When she was rested, they went on until they reached the place where the lady was to spend the night. The guide went home, and he wanted very much to take Baby Mitchell for his children to play with. But of course the lady could not allow that. The little fellow was altogether too young and tender to be handled by careless children who might not know how to avoid hurting him. So she kept him with her; and again he had good warm milk for his supper, and was put to sleep in a whole feather-bed.

The next morning Baby Mitchell and the lady took another long drive. This time they had to go in a lumber wagon, over a road that was, oh, so rough! Even Baby Mitchell kept waking up, the wagon jolted so. They forded deep rivers, and they went down mountains and up mountains; but by noon they got back to the place where the lady started from when she went ever so far to the foot of Mount Mitchell.

Little Mitchell Warming Himself“He would flatten himself out and warm the under side of his body before the fire.” (Page77)

Little Mitchell Warming Himself“He would flatten himself out and warm the under side of his body before the fire.” (Page77)

Little Mitchell Warming Himself

“He would flatten himself out and warm the under side of his body before the fire.” (Page77)

This place was a log-house, but it was not like the log-houses of the mountain people. It was a beautiful house, and belonged to dear friends of the lady. They had built it that they might come deep into the mountains to live every summer.

There were no feather-beds here, and there were a number of cats. But you will want to know more about them, for they were very remarkable cats.

The gentleman at this house where Baby Mitchell’s lady was visiting gave him a nice little wooden box, with a great many holes bored in it to let inthe air; and the gentleman’s wife gave him some soft cotton for a bed. Then Baby Mitchell’s lady, and the gentleman, and the gentleman’s wife, all looked at Baby Mitchell. His lady had scarcely taken time for that before, she was so occupied in getting him safe through.

Such a funny Baby Mitchell! All head and feet, you know, with the queerest little fuzzy tail! And those eyes tight shut! The gentleman said he never would have any eyes; but he only said that to tease the lady, and the gentleman’s wife said, “Oh, shame!” for she had quite fallen in love with the ridiculous-looking little furry baby.

Then the lady took Baby Mitchell up to her own pretty room and laid him on the bed, rolled up in his blanket, while she went to eat her supper. When she came back witha cup of warm milk for him, she took up the little roll of blanket, and what do you think!

It was empty. No Baby Mitchell there!

The lady thought of the cats; but the door was tight shut, and there were screens in the windows. She looked on the bed and on the floor, but saw no Baby Mitchell. Then she began, as well as she could, to make the little noise that Baby Mitchell made when he was hungry; and presently, if you will believe it, she heard something answer her. So she kept calling, and Baby Mitchell kept answering, until at last she found him; and where do you think he was?

He had managed to crawl out of his blanket, and no doubt he felt very lonely and tired and hungry, so he started out to find his lady. He hadscrambled down to the floor, and gone across the room, and climbed upon a low couch under the window; and on the pillow of the couch was lying his lady’s cap, where she had left it a few minutes before. And here she found him, all curled up into a little round ball on the top of her cap. He must have smelled it, and gone there.

So the lady said, “It is time now for you to have a room of your own, where you cannot get lost.”

Then she took the cotton that her friend, the gentleman’s wife, had given her, and put it into the box that her friend the gentleman had bored full of holes, and made a soft bed for Baby Mitchell. Then she gave him a good supper of warm milk, and put him to bed in his box, and he went fast asleep and slept soundly until the next morning.

After breakfast next day the ladyput Baby Mitchell on the couch while she fixed his box, and when she went to take him,—what do you think? He had one round black eye wide open! He didn’t seem to know he had an open eye, though, and went nosing about just as he did when he had no eye at all.

Next day open came the other round black eye, and then all at once Baby Mitchell seemed to be able to see. And if you will believe it, he was now afraid of his lady! He probably had not expected to open his eyes on a lady instead of on a furry little bunny mother; and so he was as badly frightened as though he had never licked condensed milk from her finger, nor been taken care of by her through more than half of his short life.

Little Mitchell’s First Chestnut“He took it in his baby hands, and sat up, and looked around, very wise indeed.” (Page113)

Little Mitchell’s First Chestnut“He took it in his baby hands, and sat up, and looked around, very wise indeed.” (Page113)

Little Mitchell’s First Chestnut

“He took it in his baby hands, and sat up, and looked around, very wise indeed.” (Page113)

No, not quite so badly frightened, either; for when his lady caught himand covered up his bright eyes, he smelled her hands and was not afraid, and very soon he got to know her by sight.

She used to give him warm milk out of a spoon three or four times a day, and every day he took a little more, and every day he grew a little larger. After he had eaten he would climb all over his lady, and sit on her shoulder or on her knee for a few minutes; but he would soon get sleepy and be glad to creep into his warm nest, when his lady would shut the box cover down tight over him—so that if a cat should happen to get into the room and find his box, and should try ever so hard to get him out, she could not do it.

Sometimes Baby Mitchell would climb up on the wire screen that stood before the fireplace; and in the early morning, when the air was cooland there was a fire blazing in the fireplace, he used to like to flatten out on the screen and warm the little white underside of his body. But soon it would get too hot for him; and then do you think he would climb down again? Not at all. He would look at his lady out of his big black eyes, and nod his head at her as much as to say, “Come and take me down,”—which she always did.

So, you see, he was very much petted and spoiled. Everybody in the house petted and spoiled him—excepting the cats, and they longed to pet him, and I am perfectly sure that if they had done so they would have completely spoiled him.

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