THE STORE-KEEPER’S HAUNTS. 49 
daily necessities—a garrison in which he can defy 
wind, rain, frost, and snow, and bide his time 
until the Ice-king yields his sceptre to the genial 
ruler of the summer. 
This squirrel seems to live everywhere. Wan- 
der round the margin of the emerald-green 
prairie, and there, amidst the hazel, mohonia, 
vine-maple, and various shrubs that love the 
sunshine, the ‘Store-keeper’ is sure to be seen, 
skipping along on a dead stick, or scudding 
through the bushes; stopping continually to 
have a peep at the intruder; sitting bolt up- 
right, with its tail erected, defiantly chattering 
angrily, in a kind of half-laugh, half-bark; then 
uttering a shrill chirp, a danger-signal to others, 
then makes for its hole and disappears. Paddle 
in a canoe down the surging stream, past the 
piles of driftwood, heaped mountains of dead 
trees; and as the frail bark shoots by, you are 
certain to see the ‘Store-keeper’ scampering 
from log to log, his scolding and whistling lost in 
the noisy rush of the torrent. Dive into the dark 
shadow of the pine-forest, where mouldy life 
holds high festival—where huge fungoid growths 
and giant agarics spring in flabby clusters from 
the oozy logs—where the pools, thick and slimy, 
are covered with the green fleshy leaves of the 
VOL. II. E 
