302 Trails to Woods and Waters 



When he had done so he turned to me and, 

 putting his finger on his lips as a sign to keep 

 very quiet, he lifted his other hand and wig- 

 gled his forefinger. 



I knew the sign and was overjoyed. Ben 

 had told me that to all tribes of the American 

 Indians and to trappers and hunters, the 

 world over, the wiggling of the index finger 

 meant, " deer near at hand," as it is supposed 

 to imitate the wiggling of the deer's tail when 

 feeding. 



I crept forward to Ben's side and peered in 

 the direction that he indicated. 



Beneath us was a warm, sheltered valley 

 several acres in extent thickly dotted with 

 small birches and here and there a clump of 

 spruce. The rays of the setting sun fell 

 aslant through the birches, causing their 

 trunks to shine like silver, in strong contrast 

 to the dark green of the spruce. The long 

 shadows from the evergreens fell across the 

 valley like somber bars. 



The snow sparkled and glistened and twigs 

 that were snow-laden glittered like diamonds. 



