Presently, from a hole
'twixt logs and chimney, there appeared a small, white breasted
mouse.
Its nose and ears shivered a little; its black eyes danced in the
firelight. It climbed up to a higher log, scratched its ribs,
then rising on its hind legs, uttered one or two squeaks like
those they had heard so often, but soon they became louder and
continuous:
"Peg, peo, peo, peo, peo, peo, peo, oo. Tree, tree, tree, tree,
trrrrrrr, Turr, turr, turr, tur, tur, Wee, wee, wee, we "--
The little creature was sitting up high on its hind legs, its
belly muscles were working, its mouth was gaping as it poured out
its music. For fully half a minute this went on, when Skookum
made a dash; but the mouse was quick and it flashed into the
safety of its cranny.
Rolf gazed at Quonab inquiringly.
"That is Mish-a-boh-quas, the singing mouse. He always comes to
tell of war. In a little while there will be fighting."
Chapter 66. A Lesson in Stalking
Did you ever see any fighting, Quonab?"
"Ugh! In Revolution, scouted for General Gates."
"Judging by the talk, we're liable to be called on before a year.
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