Waltey

Prevod

Prvo, kar je gospod Rdeči veveriček storil, potem ko je prišel v gozd in srečal Sivega veverička, je bilo, da si je poiskal kaj za pod zob. Letni čas ni bil prav nič prijazen do prišleka, ki ni imel skrite zaloge oreškov in semen, iz katere bi lahko jemal. Jabolka in koruza še niso dozoreli, lanskih semen in želoda pa skoraj ni bilo več. Tisto malo, kar je še tu in tam ostalo, je izgubilo svoj sladki, zdravi okus. Ubogi gospod Rdeči veveriček si je začel želeti, da bi bil zajtrkoval, preden je pobegnil. Šel je celo na rob gozda in se ozrl proti kmečki hiši, kjer je njegova odprta kletka visela na soncu. Vedel je, da so v njej oreški in svež košček sadja, in ob misli nanje so se mu pocedile sline. Toda bil je preudaren mladenič in vedel je, da bi se vratca kletke nemudoma zaprla, če bi se vrnil jest, in nikoli več ne bi mogel svobodno skakljati po čudovitih drevesih.

»Raje umrem od lakote!« si je rekel, in ker je mislil povsem resno, je to izgovoril precej glasno. Komaj so mu besede prišle iz ust, že je — »Pft!« — pred njegove tačke padel debel želod. Zgrabil ga je s sprednjima tačkama, še preden se je ozrl naokrog. Bil je gladek in bleščeč, prav nič takšen, kakor da bi preživel dolgo zimo na hrastovi veji. Krepko je zagrizel vanj, nato pa pogledal navzgor, da bi videl, ali jih je na drevesu nad njim še kaj. Lahko si mislite, kako presenečen je bil, ko je ugotovil, da sedi pod javorjem, kajti v vseh letih, odkar obstaja svet, še noben javor ni rodil želoda.

»Več jih ne bo,« je rekel. »Grizljati moram po malem, da mi bo trajal čim dlje.« Obračal ga je sem in tja ter ga tesno stiskal z dolgimi, ukrivljenimi krempeljci, da se ne bi izgubil niti najmanjši košček. Nazadnje ga je pojedel do konca, niti drobtinica ni ostala, potem pa je — »Pft!« — z drevesa padel oreh. Zadel ga je naravnost v hrbet, toda bil je preveč lačen, da bi se zmenil za to. Pojedel ga je do zadnjega grižljaja in se vmes ustavil le toliko, da je rekel: »Če ta javor rodi takšne plodove, kot sta želod in orehi, bi rad živel v javorjevem gaju.«

Nato je padel lešnik, za njim sivi oreh in nazadnje še debelo zrno rumene koruze. Zdaj je vedel, da se v vejah nad njim skriva nekdo prijazen, zato je spravil koruzno zrno v eno od svojih ličnih vrečk in švignil po javorjevem deblu navzgor, da bi odkril, kdo je to. Zagledal je švigajoč rdečerjav rep in vedel je, da je tam še ena rdeča veverica. Toda kdorkoli je že bila, se ni nameravala pustiti ujeti, in kako jo je moral loviti! Ravno ko je pomislil, da je dohitel svojo neznano prijateljico, je ni bilo več nikjer videti. Skoraj se je že jezil nase, kako nepazljiv je moral biti, da jo je izgubil izpred oči. Tekal je gor in dol po drevesu, na katerem jo je nazadnje videl, in v eni od njegovih velikih vej našel majhno duplino. Pokukal je vanjo in tam je bila, ista ljubka veverička, ki jo je tolikokrat opazoval iz svoje kletke. Videl je, da je zadihana od hitrega tekanja, pa se je vendar pretvarjala, da je presenečena, ker ga vidi. Morda je zdaj mislila, da je bila preveč drzna, ko mu je dajala hrano, in je zato hotela, da bi verjel, da je bil kdo drug.

»Dobro jutro!« je rekel. »Najlepša hvala za tvojo prijaznost.« »Kaj pa misliš s tem?« je vprašala. »Kot da ne bi vedela!« je odvrnil. »Še nikoli nisem slišal za javor, ki bi rodil želod, oreške in koruzo, in to spomladi.«

»No, ja,« je rekla in privzdignila svojo lepo glavico, »živel si v kletki, pa morda ne veš, kaj vse zmorejo naša gozdna drevesa.« To je bilo nekoliko predrzno, toda gospod Rdeči veveriček je poznal njeno dobro srce in vedel, da je to rekla le iz nagajivosti. »Kako pa veš, da sem živel v kletki?« jo je vprašal.

»Jaz — jaz sem mislila, da si podoben veveričku pri kmečki hiši,« je rekla; potem pa je pozabila na previdnost in dodala: »Tako presenečen si bil videti, ko te je zadel tisti oreh.«

»Kje pa si bila takrat?« je hitro vprašal. »Oh! Na veji nad teboj,« je odgovorila, saj je videla, da zdaj že vse ve. »Tako lačen si bil videti, jaz pa sem imela spravljene veliko hrane. Lahko je dobiš, kadarkoli želiš. V tisti kletki je moralo biti strašno.«

Gospod Rdeči veveriček je imel svojo malo prijateljico rad že od trenutka, ko jo je prvič zagledal na ograji iz lesenih prečk, toda nikoli ni pomislil, da bi ji lahko bilo mar zanj — za utrujenega, malodušnega veverička, ki je preživel tako žalostno življenje v ujetništvu. Ko pa je slišal njene sočutne besede in zagledal sijaj v njenih nežnih očeh, se je vprašal, ali bi jo lahko pridobil za ženo.

»Nikoli ne bom mogel ničesar storiti zate,« je rekel. »Mlada si in lepa in poznaš življenje v gozdu. Jaz pa sem tujec in moje težko življenje me je užalostilo. Ko bi ti le lahko pomagal.«

»Modri šoji! Modri šoji!« je zavpila in skočila pokonci. »Našli sta moj skriti želod in ga jesta.« In res, dva izmed teh lepih roparjev sta iz bližnje drevesne dupline vlekla želod za želodom in ga jedla, kolikor hitro sta mogla. Takrat bi morali videti gospoda Rdečega veverička! Skakal je z veje na vejo, dokler ni prišel do modrih šoj; nato je obstal ob duplini, kjer je bil spravljen želod, in ju ozmerjal. »Čikari-čikari-kvilč-kvilč-čikari-čikari!« je rekel; in to je v jeziku rdečih veveric zelo hudo oštevanje. Poskakoval je naokrog s sklonjeno glavo in trzajočim repom, oči pa so mu žarele kakor oglje v ognju. Modri šoji sta zagnali velik hrup, mu vpili »Šoj! Šoj!« in se norčevali iz njega, ker je bil prišlek, a nazadnje sta vendarle odleteli in gospod Rdeči veveriček se je obrnil k svoji prijateljici.

»Kaj bi storila brez tvoje pomoči?« je rekla. »Tako zelo sem se prestrašila. Ali ne vidiš, kako se mi tačke še vedno tresejo?« In pokazala mu je najlepše drobne tačke, kar si jih je mogoče zamisliti.

Tedaj je srce gospoda Rdečega veverička začelo zelo hitro in močno razbijati pod belim kožuščkom na prsih in tiho je vzdihnil. »Želim si, da bi ti smel vedno pomagati in te varovati,« je rekel, »vendar so gotovo boljši fantje od mene, ki si želijo isto.« In spet je vzdihnil.

»Da, morda si res želijo,« je rekla, se ozrla proč od njega in se delala, kot da vidi prihajati še eno modro šojo. »Saj ne bi hotela biti moja ženica, kajne?« je vprašal in se ji približal.

»No — jaz — morda pa bi!« je odgovorila, navihano zamahnila z repom in zbežala, kolikor hitro je mogla. Ali mislite, da se je gospod Rdeči veveriček tedaj ustavil, da bi pojedel svoje debelo zrno rumene koruze? Ali pa mislite, da je počakal, da bi videl, ali sta modri šoji še kje v bližini? Kje pa! Sledil ji je, kolikor hitro so ga nesle noge, z drevesa na drevo, z veje na vejo, in svojo malo izvoljenko je dohitel šele na vrhu visoke bukve. Še vedno sta bila tam, ko je popoldne mimo prišel Sivi veveriček.

»Aha!« je rekel in priprl oči, da bi bolje videl gospoda Rdečega veverička, saj je slabo videl. »Torej že sklepaš poznanstva? Prijetna družba je tukaj. Veveričja družba je zelo izbrana. Spoznati moraš nekaj naših mladih. Domnevam, da si boš te dni uredil svoj dom?«

»Sem si ga že, gospod,« je odgovoril gospod Rdeči veveriček, čeprav ga je žena dregala z eno tačko in mu kazala, naj bo tiho. »Z gospo Rdečo veveričko si bova zgradila okrogel dom v najvišjem razcepu tega drevesa. Vesela bova, če naju obiščete, ko se vseliva.«

»Ali res?« je vzkliknil Sivi veveriček. »Nisem vedel, da si poročen. Mislil sem, da si prišel v gozd sam.« »To je moja žena, gospod,« je rekel gospod Rdeči veveriček, Sivi veveriček pa se je kar najlepše priklonil in jo pogledal tako pozorno, kot so mu dopuščale njegove slabe oči.

»Mislim, da sem te že nekje videl,« je rekel. »Tvoj obraz mi je zelo znan.« In z enim krempeljcem se je popraskal po svoji ubogi stari, zmedeni glavi. »Saj vendar, bratranec Sivi veveriček, ali ne prepoznaš Košatorepke?« je vzkliknila. »Vso zimo si živel na drevesu poleg mojega.«

»Seveda!« je vzkliknil. »Toda ali ni vajina poroka nekoliko nenadna?« »Ne,« je rekla in zardela pod kožuščkom. »Od nekdaj sva si bila všeč, čeprav sva prvič spregovorila šele danes zjutraj. Pogosto sem tekala po ograji iz lesenih prečk, da bi videla gospoda Rdečega veverička v njegovi kletki.«

»Ali si res prihajala zato?« jo je vprašal mož, potem ko je obiskovalec odšel. »Prav zares,« je odgovorila, »vendar nisem nikoli pričakovala, da bo kdo to izvedel. Ubožec moj! Tako zelo si se mi smilil. Dala bi vse oreške, kar sem jih imela, samo da bi te osvobodila.«

Bila sta zelo srečen par in naslednjo jesen je Sivi veveriček opazoval njiju in njune otroke, kako so nabirali oreške za zimske zaloge. Gospod Rdeči veveriček je kot glava družine načrtoval delo, vendar je vsak opravil svoj delež. Oreški še niso bili zreli, zato so pregriznili peclje, nato pa se spustili na tla, napolnili lične vrečke s padlimi oreški in jih odhiteli skrivat na najrazličnejša mesta. Spravljali so jih v drevesne dupline, pod šumeče listje, ki je prekrivalo tla, v razpoke starih debel, pod kupe vejevja in v luknje v zemlji.

»Nikar se ne ustavljajte in ne premišljujte, koliko jih potrebujete,« je mala mama rekla svojim otrokom. »Naberite vsak orešek, ki ga lahko. Zima bo morda zelo dolga.« »In če jih ne pojeste vseh,« je s svetlikanjem v očeh rekel njihov marljivi oče, »boste morda želeli kakšnega spustiti kakemu ubožcu, ki nima nobenega. Tako je storila vaša mama.«

»Kdaj je tako storila? Zakaj se smejiš, ko to praviš? Mama, kaj misli s tem?« so mladi rdeči veverički vzkliknili vsi v en glas. »Nekoč sem dala nekaj oreškov lačnemu veveričku,« je rekla, »in bil mi je tako hvaležen, da je pregnal modri šoji, ko sta me hoteli okrasti.« Toda ko je govorila, je bila videti tako srečna, da so otroci vedeli, da se za tem skriva še kaj. Niso si je drznili nadlegovati, naj jim pove, zato so si šepetali med seboj in se spraševali, kaj je mislil njihov oče.

Ko so nabirali oreške v bližini Sivega veverička, jim je pomignil, naj pridejo bliže. »Pššt!« je rekel. »Ne povejte, da ste slišali od mene, toda mislim, da je bil tisti ubogi lačni veveriček vaš oče, in za vas je bila velika sreča, da je imela dovolj, da je lahko kaj razdala.«

»Ali mislite, da je bilo res tako?« so si mladi rdeči veverički šepetali med seboj. »Ali res mislite?«

Izvirnik

The first thing that Mr. Red Squirrel did after coming to the forest and meeting the Gray Squirrel was to look for something to eat. It was not a good season for a stranger who had no hidden store of nuts and seeds to draw upon. The apples and corn were not ripe, and last year's seeds and acorns were nearly gone. What few remained here and there had lost their sweet and wholesome taste. Poor Mr. Red Squirrel began to wish that he had eaten breakfast before he ran away. He even went to the edge of the forest and looked over toward the farmhouse, where his open cage hung in the sunshine. He knew that there were nuts and a fresh bit of fruit inside of it, and his mouth watered at the thought of them, but he was a sensible young fellow, and he knew that if he went back to eat, the cage door would be snapped shut, and he would never again be free to scamper in the beautiful trees.

"I will starve first!" he said to himself, and he was so much in earnest that he spoke quite loudly.

The words were hardly out of his mouth when "Pft!" a fat acorn came down at his feet. He caught it up with his forepaws before looking around. It was smooth and glossy, not at all as though it had passed a long winter on an oak branch. He took a good nibble at it and then looked up to see if there were more on the tree above him. You can think how surprised he was to find himself sitting beneath a maple, for in all the years since the world began no maple has ever borne acorns.

"There are no more to come," he said. "I must take small bites and make it last as long as I can." And he turned it around and around, clutching it tightly with his long, crooked claws, so that not the tiniest bit could be lost. At last it was all eaten, not a crumb was left, and then "Pft!" down came a walnut. This hit him squarely on the back, but he was too hungry to mind, and he ate it all, just stopping long enough to say: "If this maple bears such fruit as acorns and walnuts, I should like to live in a maple grove."

Next came a hazelnut, then a butternut, and last of all a fat kernel of yellow corn. He knew now that some friend was hidden in the branches above, so he tucked the corn in one of his cheek-pockets, and scampered up the maple trunk to find out who it was. He saw a whisking reddish-brown tail, and knew that some other Red Squirrel was there. But whoever it was did not mean to be caught, and such a chase as he had! Just as he thought he had overtaken his unknown friend, he could see nothing more of her, and he was almost vexed to think how careless he must have been to miss her. He ran up and down the tree on which he last saw her, and found a little hollow in one of its large branches. He looked in, and there she was, the same dainty creature whom he had so often watched from his cage. He could see that she was breathless from running so fast, yet she pretended to be surprised at seeing him. Perhaps she now thought that she had been too bold in giving him food, and so wanted him to think that it had been somebody else.

"Good morning!" said he. "Thank you very much for your kindness."

"What do you mean?" said she.

"As though you didn't know!" he answered. "I never heard of a maple tree that bore acorns, nuts, and corn, and that in the springtime."

"Oh, well," said she, tossing her pretty head, "you have lived in a cage and may not know what our forest trees can do."

That was a rather saucy thing to say, but Mr. Red Squirrel knew her kind heart and that she said it only in mischief. "How do you know I have lived in a cage?" he asked.

"I--I thought you looked like the Squirrel at the farmhouse," she said; and then forgetting herself, she added, "You did look so surprised when that walnut hit you."

"Where were you then?" he asked quickly.

"Oh! I was on a branch above you," she answered, seeing that he now knew all about it. "You looked so hungry, and I had plenty of food stored away. You may have some whenever you wish. It must have been dreadful in that cage."

Now Mr. Red Squirrel had loved his little friend ever since the first time he saw her on the rail fence, but he had never thought she would care for him--a tired, discouraged fellow, who had passed such a sorrowful life in prison. Yet when he heard her pitying words, and saw the light in her tender eyes, he wondered if he could win her for his wife.

"I shall never be able to do anything for you," said he. "You are young and beautiful and know the forest ways. I am a stranger and saddened by my hard life. I wish I could help you."

"The Blue Jays! The Blue Jays!" she cried, starting up. "They have found my hidden acorns and are eating them."

And sure enough, a pair of those handsome robbers were pulling acorn after acorn out of a tree-hollow near by, and eating them as fast as they could. You should have seen Mr. Red Squirrel then! He leaped from branch to branch until he reached the Blue Jays; then he stood by the hole where the acorns were stored, and scolded them. "Chickaree-chickaree-quilch-quilch-chickaree-chickaree!" he said; and that in the Red Squirrel language is a very severe scolding. He jumped about with his head down and his tail jerking, while his eyes gleamed like coals of fire. The Blue Jays made a great fuss and called "Jay! Jay!" at him, and made fun of him for being a stranger, but they left at last, and Mr. Red Squirrel turned to his friend.

"What would I have done without your help?" she said. "I was so dreadfully frightened. Don't you see how my paws are shaking still?" And she held out the prettiest little paws imaginable for him to see.

Then Mr. Red Squirrel's heart began to thump very fast and hard beneath the white fur of his chest, and he sighed softly. "I wish I might always help you and protect you," he said; "but I suppose there are better fellows than I who want to do that." And he sighed again.

"Yes, they might want to," she said, looking away from him and acting as though she saw another Blue Jay coming.

"You wouldn't be my little wife, would you?" he asked, coming nearer to her.

"Why--I--might!" she answered, with a saucy flirt of her tail, and she scampered away as fast as she could. Do you think Mr. Red Squirrel stopped then to eat his fat kernel of yellow corn? Or do you think he waited to see whether the Blue Jays were around? No, indeed! He followed as fast as his legs could carry him from tree to tree, from branch to branch, and it was not until he had reached the top of a tall beech that he overtook his little sweetheart. They were still there when the Gray Squirrel happened along in the afternoon.

"Ah!" said he, squinting at Mr. Red Squirrel, for his eyes were poor. "You are getting acquainted, are you? Pleasant society here. The Squirrel set is very select. You must meet some of our young people. Suppose you will begin housekeeping one of these days?"

"I have done so already, sir," answered Mr. Red Squirrel, although his wife was nudging him with one paw and motioning him to keep quiet. "Mrs. Red Squirrel and I will build our round home in the top fork of this tree. We shall be pleased to have you call when we are settled."

"Is that so?" exclaimed the Gray Squirrel. "I did not know that you were married. I thought you came alone to the forest."

"This is my wife, sir," said Mr. Red Squirrel, and the Gray Squirrel made his very best bow and looked at her as sharply as his poor eyes would let him.

"I think I must have seen you somewhere," he said; "your face is very familiar." And he scratched his poor old puzzled head with one claw.

"Why, Cousin Gray Squirrel, don't you know Bushy-tail?" she cried. "You lived the next tree to mine all winter."

"To be sure!" he exclaimed. "But isn't your marriage rather sudden?"

"No," she said, blushing under her fur. "We have always liked each other, although we never spoke until this morning. I used to scamper along the rail fence to see Mr. Red Squirrel in his cage."

"Did you truly come for that?" asked her husband, after their caller had gone.

"I truly did," she answered, "but I never expected anybody to know it. You poor fellow! I felt so sorry for you. I would have given every nut I had to set you free."

They were a very happy couple, and the next fall the Gray Squirrel watched them and their children gathering nuts for their winter stores. Mr. Red Squirrel, as the head of the family, planned the work, yet each did his share. The nuts were not yet ripe, and they gnawed off the stems, then came to the ground, filled their cheek-pockets with the fallen nuts, and scampered off to hide them in many places. They were stored in tree-hollows, under the rustling leaves which strewed the ground, in the cracks of old logs, beneath brush-heaps, and in holes in the ground.

"Don't stop to think how many you need," said the little mother to her children. "Get every nut you can. It may be a very long winter."

"And if you don't eat them all," said their hard-working father with a twinkle in his eyes, "you may want to drop a few down to some poor fellow who has none. That was your mother's way."

"When was it her way? What makes you smile when you say it? Mother, what does he mean?" cried the young Red Squirrels all in a breath.

"I gave some nuts to a hungry Squirrel once," she said, "and he was so grateful that he drove the Blue Jays away when they tried to rob me." But she looked so happy as she spoke that the children knew there was more to the story. They dared not tease her to tell, so they whispered among themselves and wondered what their father meant.

As they gathered nuts near the Gray Squirrel, he motioned them to come close. "S-sh!" said he. "Don't tell it from me, but I think the poor hungry fellow was your father, and it was a lucky thing for you that she had enough to give away."

"Do you suppose that was it?" the young Red Squirrels whispered to each other. "Do you really suppose so?"

Nalagam bralnik