Tiny never forgot the pleasant half hour that followed his graduation. Although he felt happy, he was sorry to leave dear old Beaver Creek with its many delightful associations. After waving a friendly farewell to Mr. Opossum, Jolly Gopher, and his other chance acquaintances, he turned to bid his classmates goodby. The bird choir was still singing its sweetest airs.

“Your poem was very good for a beginner,” said Miss Hare, with a smile. “I suspect that you spent much time in its preparation.”

“I expect to write a better one in a year from now,” replied Tiny.

“You did not get frightened at all,” said timid Katie Goose, who had been unable to read her composition loud enough for her audience to hear.

“One is never afraid of an audience unless he is afraid of himself,” said Tiny. “I hope your future life will be happy, Katie.”

“Thank you,” replied Katie. “I want to be a lovely character like my aunt, dear old Mother Goose.”

“I want to thank you for your kindness to me, Mr. Owl,” continued the squirrel, running to where the wise trustee of the school sat listening to the merry chorus of voices. “I have done nothing to pay for my board and tuition. In fact, I never knew there was such a thing as money, and that animals should pay for what they get from others, instead of trying to steal it.”

“Do not worry about that,” said the owl, kindly. “Miss Hare’s school is free to pupils that cannot pay. It is kept up by taxes paid by the good citizens of Joy County. In this day of free schools, it is a terrible crime for animals to neglect their education.”

“I shall organize a school in Squirreltown as soon as I return,” said Tiny. “The little ones would be more benefitted if they would exercise their brains as well as their legs.”

“I wish you success,” said the owl prophet, kindly. “Your education has just begun. Even if you should live as many years as a turtle does, you would never learn all there is to know. Most squirrels observe closely, but almost every squirrel does not think as much as he should.”

“I am going now,” said Tiny. “Please also accept my thanks for your kindness to my mother during my absence from home. I hope you will come to Squirreltown and give me a chance to entertain you.”

“Thank you,” replied the owl. “I should be glad to carry you home, but I believe you are old enough to find your own way. There are many other lessons for you to learn, and there are other dreadful battles that you must fight alone. Always be brave and hopeful, no matter what befalls you.”

Tiny bade Miss Hare goodby, and she wished him success. He tried to find Billy Beaver, but the good janitor had already started up creek to his work. One by one the graduates left the school for their various homes, and, when Tiny started forth on his journey, Beaver Creek was quiet and deserted. With a sigh of regret he gazed back at the domes of the buildings, and in his heart wished that he might return.

As he turned into the narrow path that led to the north, he heard the noise of pattering feet. In a few moments Winkie Weasel was beside him, panting heavily.

“I am going with you as far as Deertown,” said he. “What a pleasant visit we shall have on the way! You were always kind to help me with my lessons, and I thank you.”

“I suppose you are anxious to get back home,” said Tiny, as they hurried along.

“Not very,” replied Winkie, seriously. “My home is not pleasant. However, I am going to try to exert a good influence over those with whom I live. Weasels fight most of the time, you know. I shall try to teach them that vegetables are as wholesome as meat, and that weasels would be just as healthy if they did not eat every little animal that crossed their path.”

For a long time they chatted concerning their classmates and the graduating exercises. They praised their teacher’s elegant manners, Mrs. Goose’s excellent morals and grand air, the pretty faces of the Otter sisters, the beautiful bower that Billy Beaver and his friends had made, and the neat schoolroom. Winkie congratulated Tiny again and again upon his splendid victory.

When it grew dark, they stopped to rest. Tiny, with the quill Mother Goose had given him securely tied to his body, carefully climbed a tree. He found a cozy spot sheltered by broad leaves. In the meantime, Winkie found comfortable quarters in a hollow log. Soon they fell asleep.

In the middle of the night an awful storm arose. The lightning flashed and the thunder roared. The trees bent and swayed in the angry winds. It seemed to Tiny that the world was coming to an end; but he was brave and hopeful, for he knew that the sunshine would be bright on the morrow.

When the storm had abated somewhat, he fell asleep again. However, he slept badly. He thought some cruel animal was about to spring upon him and swallow him in one gulp. He was a really brave little creature, but such dreams are prone to disturb even the boldest animal.

He shuddered and opened his eyes with a start. Not six feet away two terrible eyes of fire were fixed upon him. He then knew that his dream was real. In the flash of lightning that followed, he could see a large animal about to spring at him. Its legs were powerful, its feet were heavy, and its claws glistened. Another flash of lightning revealed the pointed ears of the terrible beast.

Tiny tried to escape, but the branch of the tree was slippery with rain. In a twinkling he received a terrific blow from an enormous paw. Then followed a crash of thunder, an angry roar, and the frightened shriek of a poor helpless squirrel.

“Oh, save me from the lynx—the lynx!” he cried.

Both he and the bloodthirsty creature had fallen to the ground. Tiny knew that in another moment he might meet with a tragic fate. Another flash of lightning showed the lynx, with his fur standing straight and his back curled, ready to pounce upon him.

Darkness came again. Tiny was so badly stunned for a while that he could hardly move. He stood dumbly awaiting the final blow. Then a loud roar of pain resounded through the forest. It was evident to Tiny that some creature was attacking the lynx. The little squirrel unloosened the pen that had been given him. When the lightning flashed again, he dashed forward and thrust it into the delicate nostril of the lynx. There was another cry, more of surprise than of pain, and the ferocious animal disappeared in the blackness of night.

“We are safe now,” said Winkie Weasel’s welcome voice. “It is fortunate that I came with you. Just as the lynx was about to destroy you, I rushed out of the stump and gave his tail a bite that he will not soon forget. I think, judging by the way he yelled, he must have thought he was struck by lightning.”

Tiny was too weak to reply. He stood shivering in the rain, yet he was grateful that he had learned the value of friendship. Winkie, who enjoyed dreadful encounters, pushed him back into the stump that he might protect him through the night. There they remained until daybreak.

“Now, forget about the lynx and don’t be so cast down,” were the first words that Winkie said on the following morning. “Don’t hold any ill-will towards him. He was only thinking what a fine meal you would make. All animals are looking out for themselves.”

A turn in the long path brought them into Deertown. A number of red deer were lying together upon the grassy turf. They had slept well, for the branches of the trees had formed a thick canopy over their heads. A stag with a reddish-brown coat and big branching antlers was guarding them. Several pretty fawns with brown eyes and white coats were playing hide-and-seek in the bushes. Although deer are quick to hear the footsteps of larger animals, they paid no heed to the little newcomers.

“Isn’t the stag noble-looking!” cried Tiny. “What a big creature he is!”

“He is very proud,” said Winkie, less admiringly. “He is also selfish, for he becomes angry if any other stag comes inside his family circle.”

“Isn’t it fortunate that we don’t have to wear antlers?” laughed Tiny. “How funny you would look, Winkie, with horns or antlers!”

“It is said that one can tell the age of a stag by looking at his antlers,” replied Winkie, with the sprightliness that Tiny enjoyed. “Perhaps Mother Goose is thankful, too, that she doesn’t have them.”

Not far beyond Deertown, the two associates separated. Tiny was to go directly north, while Winkie was to pass through several winding paths to Weasel Bog.

“Goodby, Tiny. Carry your prize safely home, and tell your mother that you well deserved it,” said Winkie. “Some day I will bring my family to see you.”

“I am afraid you wouldn’t be very welcome in Squirreltown,” said Tiny. “However, I will meet you alone at any time you suggest. I will fetch you something good to eat.”

“Squirrels are all right in their bad opinions of weasels,” said Winkie, regretfully. “I never thought how scandalous my family would act, if I took them to Squirreltown. I do not wish to visit your village, but I will meet you at any place you may suggest. I want to see you only. Let me hear from you often.”

“All right,” replied Tiny, cheerily.

With another farewell he turned north and ran as fast as he could. Two or three times he stopped to eat some delicious acorns and other food he found by the wayside, for Nature has bountifully provided for the squirrel race.

He might have reached home without any more dreadful encounters, had it not been for his curiosity. While resting on the lower branch of a beech tree, he saw an animal with soft, silky fur, fast asleep on the bough above his head. He did not know that the pretty, innocent-looking creature was a wild cat, one of the most terrible beasts of the wood. The thoughtless squirrel stole noiselessly to the side of the sleeping animal and made a shrill, screeching noise.

The wild cat awoke. Instantly it changed to a ferocious monster, with ruffled fur and eyes that seemed to shoot forth flames. With a snarl of rage, it dashed at its disturber. Tiny, whose heart beat wildly, dashed down the tree. Instead of seeking refuge in some knothole, he ran with all his might along the path. He expected to be killed at any moment. Horror made him run all the faster, for he knew that the wild cat was the most dreadful animal he could possibly arouse.

Over fallen twigs and branches the frightened squirrel leapt, little thinking of other dangers that might befall him. At last his strength began to fail. He knew that he could hold out but a few minutes longer. Torn by brush and briers, he ascended an oak tree. A little door stood ajar. He rushed through the tiny opening and fell prostrate.

When he regained his senses, a little gray animal with liquid dark eyes was bending over him.

“Bushy Graysquirrel!” he cried in delight.

“I am very glad to receive you in my new home,” was Bushy’s welcome greeting.