As you follow the trout stream, from which 

 the charcoal man daily fills his kettle, you 

 may find Pekompf stretched on a fallen log 

 under the alders, glaring intently into the 

 trout pool, waiting, waiting for what ? 



It will take many seasons of watching to 

 answer this natural question, w^hich every 

 one W 7 ho is a follower of the wild things has 

 asked himself a score of times. All the cats 

 have but one form of patience, the patience 

 of quiet waiting. Except when hunger-driven, 

 their way of hunting is to watch beside the 

 game paths or crouch upon a big limb above 

 the place where their game comes down to 

 drink. Sometimes they vary their programme 

 by prowling blindly through the woods, singly 

 or in pairs, trusting to luck to blunder upon 

 their game; for they are wretched hunters. 

 They rarely follow a 

 trail, not simply because 



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