I had the good fortune one morning to see Meeko, the patriarch,
make a new path for himself that none of the others ever followed
so long as I was in the dormitory. He had a home den over a
hallway, and a hiding place for acorns in a hollow linden.
Between the two was a driveway; but though the branches arched
over it from either side, the jump was too great for him to take.
A hundred times I saw him run out on the farthest oak twig and
look across longingly at the maple that swayed on the other side.
It was perhaps three feet away, with no branches beneath to seize
and break his fall in case he missed his spring, altogether too
much for a red squirrel to attempt. He would rush out as if
determined to try it, time after time, but always his courage
failed him; he had to go down the oak trunk and cross the
driveway on the ground, where numberless straying dogs were
always ready to chase him.

One morning I saw him run twice in succession at the jump, only
to turn back. But the air was keen and bracing, and he felt its
inspiration. He drew farther back, then came rushing along the
oak branch and, before he had time to be afraid, hurled himself
across the chasm. He landed fairly on the maple twig, with
several inches to spare, and hung there with claws and teeth,
swaying up and down gloriously. Then, chattering his delight at
himself, he ran down the maple, back across the driveway, and
tried the jump three times in succession to be sure he could do
it.

After that he sprang across frequently. But I noticed that
whenever the branches were wet with rain or sleet he never