* 
48 THE STORE-KEEPER’S MANSION. 
contents are pressed out by a kneading kind of 
movement. 
Where a more striking evidence of Divine 
wisdom and forethought! But for these leather 
bags, it would be utterly impossible for this little 
animal to carry in a store of provisions sufficient 
for his winter supply. He does not sleep, like the 
‘Rock Whistler,’ and live on his own fat, but 
only partially hybernates; and hence needs a 
stock of food, with which he provides himself 
during the sunny summer days. 
His mansion is usually under a fallen tree, or 
amidst the tangled roots of the giant pines. A 
small burrow neatly dug, and round as an augur- 
hole, leads in a slanting direction to an open ca- 
vity, neatly lined with dry leaves, blades of grass, 
and moss—a bed soft as eider-down, wherein 
the ‘store-keeper’ sleeps. In an adjoining open- 
ing, on a kind of earthen shelf, is his store, neatly 
piled away, to be carefully hoarded, until the biting 
blasts of winter, sweeping through the forests, 
stripping land and tree alike of their verdure, warn 
the provident workman to retire into his snug 
quarters, not to shiver, cold and hungry, until the 
spring-time comes, and bids the flowers ope their 
blossoms, and the buds burst into leaf. Not a bit 
of it: his industry has provided not only a snug 
residence, but food in abundance, to supply his 
