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that best adapted to transport. The Mino- 

 taur, though also versed in the mechanics of 

 rolling, has no occasion to make these prepa- 

 rations: the Sheep saves him the trouble by 

 modelling fragments which are easily moved. 



At last, satisfied with his harvest, the 

 gleaner goes indoors. What will he do 

 with his treasure? Feed on it, that goes 

 without saying, until the cold and its con- 

 sequent torpor stay the appetite. But eat- 

 ing is not everything. In the winter, certain 

 precautions become essential in a retreat of 

 only middling depth. When December 

 draws nigh, already we find a few mounds 

 as large as those of spring. They corre- 

 spond with burrows running down three feet 

 or more. In these deeply buried crypts 

 there is always a female who, sheltered from 

 the rough weather outside, is frugally nib- 

 bling at her scanty provender. 



Dwellings like these, with an equable 

 temperature, are still rare. The majority, 

 always occupied by a single inhabitant, 

 whether male or female, are barely nine 

 inches deep. As a rule, they are padded 

 with a thick blanket, obtained from dry pel- 

 lets, crumbled and reduced to shreds. We 

 may take it that this fibrous mass, which is 

 78 



