came out of her hole, and went a few paces to point out the tree, where
her enemy the red squirrel's store of nuts was; but as soon as she saw
Mister Coon disappear in the hollow of the tree, she bade him good-bye,
and whisked up a tall tree, where she knew the racoon could not reach her;
and having now quite recovered her strength, she was able to leap from
branch to branch, and even from one tree to another, whenever they grew,
close and the boughs touched, as they often do in the grand old woods in
Canada; and so she was soon far, far away from the artful coon, who waited
a long time, hoping to carry off poor Silvy for his dinner.

Silvy contrived to pick up a living by digging for roots, and eating such
fruits as she could find; but one day she came to a grassy cleared spot,
where she saw a strange-looking tent, made with poles stuck into the
ground and meeting at the top, from which came a bluish cloud that spread
among the trees; and as Silvy was very curious, she came nearer, and at
last, hearing no sound, ran up one of the poles, and peeped in, to see
what was within side, thinking it might be one of the fine stores of grain
that people built for the squirrels, as her cousin Blackie had made her
believe. The poles were covered with sheets of birch-bark, and skins of
deer and wolves, and there was a fire of sticks burning in the middle,
round which some large creatures were sitting on a bear's skin, eating
something that smelt very nice. They had long black hair, and black eyes,
and very white teeth. Silvy felt alarmed at first; but thinking they must
be the people who were kind to squirrels, she ventured to slip through a
slit in the bark, and ran down into the wigwam, hoping to get something to
eat; but in a minute the Indians jumped up, and before she had time to
make her escape she was seized by a young squaw, and popped into a birch
box, and the lid shut down upon her: so poor Silvy was caught in a trap;
and all for believing the artful black squirrel's tales.