He did not stand stolidly baring his furry belly to the missile, and die with an upward glance at the sympathetic heavens.

On the contrary, he had fled as fast as his legs could carry him; and he was but an ordinary squirrel, too--doubtless no philosopher of his race.

The youth wended, feeling that Nature was of his mind.

She re-enforced his argument with proofs that lived where the sun shone.
Once he found himself almost into a swamp.

He was obliged to walk upon bog tufts and watch his feet to keep from the oily mire.