172 WAKE-ROBIN 



were ready to swallow anything that contained the 

 smallest percentage of it. They were mostly year- 

 lings and as sleek as moles. They had a very gamy 

 look. We were afterwards told that, in the spring, 

 the farmers round about turn into these woods their 

 young cattle, which do not come out again till fall. 

 They are then in good condition, — not fat, like 

 grass-fed cattle, but trim and supple, like deer. 

 Once a month the owner hunts them up and salts 

 them. They have their beats, and seldom wander 

 beyond well-defined limits. It was interesting to 

 see them feed. They browsed on the low limbs 

 and bushes, and on the various plants, munching at 

 everything without any apparent discrimination. 



They attempted to follow me, but I escaped them 

 by clambering down some steep rocks. I now 

 found myself gradually edging down the side of the 

 mountain, keeping around it in a spiral manner, 

 and scanning the woods and the shape of the ground 

 for some encouraging hint or sign. Finally the 

 woods became more open, and the descent less rapid. 

 The trees were remarkably straight and uniform in 

 size. Black birches, the first I had seen, were very 

 numerous. I felt encouraged. Listening atten- 

 tively, I caught, from a breeze just lifting the droop- 

 ing leaves, a sound that I willingly believed was 

 made by a bullfrog. On this hint, I tore down 

 through the woods at my highest speed. Then I 

 paused and listened again. This time there was no 

 mistaking it; it was the sound of frogs. Much 

 elated, I rushed on. By and by I could hear them 



