There was something about the dam across Swift River that Frisky
Squirrel simply couldn't keep away from--after he had forgotten,
somewhat, his fright at the gristmill. Only a few days passed after
Frisky had run home from the mill in a panic, before he was back
again. He liked to run across the top of the dam and look down at his
reflection in the water on one side. Here and there a narrow stream
spilled over the top of the dam. Frisky felt very brave as he leaped
over those little rivulets. And he loved to watch them as they fell in
thin, silvery cascades upon the rocks far below. It was great sport.

One day when Frisky reached the dam he heard a dog bark not far away.
It was the miller's dog. He had seen Frisky as he crossed the road.
And he at once hurried toward him.

Frisky Squirrel was annoyed. He had just been thinking what a good
time he was going to have. But when that dog started to bark Frisky
knew that his fun was spoiled. He wasn't frightened. Oh, no! But he
was sure that the dog would not go away until _he_ did.

"Well, I'll just take one run across the dam," Frisky said to himself.
"I'll stay on the other side of the river until he grows tired of
waiting. And then I'll come back."

He hurried on to the bank of the river; and in a few moments he was
skipping along the dam. The dog was still barking. And Frisky looked
around at him. To his great surprise, there was the dog following him,
right along the top of the dam. But even then Frisky was not
frightened. He simply hurried a little faster. He had not dreamed that
the miller's dog would chase him across Swift River. But there he was.
And he was running fast, too.