SAKWASEW THE MINK 



But the circling hawk is as silent as the very per 

 sonification of death. Apparently he can t make up 

 his mind for the death-drop on some rat or frog down 

 there in the swamp. The trapper notices that the 

 hawk keeps circling directly above the place where the 

 waters of the swamp tumble from the ravine in a small 

 cataract to join a lower river. He knows, too, from 

 the rich orange of the plumage that the hawk is young. 

 An older fellow would not be advertising his inten 

 tions in this fashion. Besides, an older hawk would 

 have russet-gray feathering. Is the rascally young 

 hawk meditating a clutch of talons round some of 

 the unsuspecting trout that usually frequent the 

 quiet pools below a waterfall. Or does he aim at 

 bigger game ? A young hawk is bold with the courage 

 that has not yet learned the wisdom of caution. That 

 is why there are so many more of the brilliant young 

 red hawks in our museums than old grizzled gray vet 

 erans whose craft circumvents the specimen hunter s 

 cunning. Now the trapper comes to have as keen a 

 sense of feel for all the creatures of the wilds as the 

 creatures of the wilds have for man; so he shifts 

 his position that he may find what is attracting the 

 hawk. 



Down on the pebbled beach below the waterfalls lies 

 an auburn bundle of fur, about the size of a very long, 

 slim, short-legged cat, still as a stone some member 

 of the weasel family gorged torpid with fish, stretched 

 out full length to sleep in the sun. To sleep, ah, yes, 

 and as the Danish prince said, &quot;perchance to dream&quot;; 

 for all the little fellows of river and prairie take good 

 care never to sleep where they are exposed to their 

 countless enemies. This sleep of the weasel arouses the 

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