HIS FIRST WINTER 121 



himself, a porcupine looked down coolly, trusting 

 to his serrated-edged quills for protection against 

 reprisals. His winter top-coat of long hair just 

 about covered his rapiers ; another month would 

 see him in fine apparel. 



The migratory birds had long since departed, but 

 the ubiquitous grey-plumaged " camp-robber," thief 

 of the woods, did his best to fill the gap ; the 

 ravens, too, who make nothing of a temperature 

 of 50° below zero. A sprightly finch, disdaining 

 winter coloration, flitted through the coldest 

 snaps, a black dot on the landscape. Berries of 

 all kinds were scarce now, insects dead, but the 

 tiny bird eked out a living somehow on the spruce- 

 tops. 



With the sudden cold and an atmosphere keen 

 enough to freeze the mercury in a thermometer, 

 came those weird lamentations in the sky which 

 have turned the blood of many a tenderfoot to ice. 

 They started so low and wearily, wailing like 

 muted strings, then gathered in volume, and sank, 

 and rose, and trembled, and dwelt, until they died 

 utterly in a wild sobbing laughter, horrible to hear. 

 What the extraordinary effect betokens the oldest 

 trapper of them all could not explain. Only the 



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