A DEAD-WATER VIGIL 177 



eyes of a cat would have helped me to pierce the 

 darkness I know not, but my own were certainly of 

 little use for that purpose. 



When the sun dropped behind the ridges and this 

 duskiness began to creep over the face of Nature, it 

 seemed as if the thoughtful dame had given all her 

 creatures — except her noctivagant rakes — quick notice 

 to finish whatever task they had on hand and get to 

 bed. Black ducks and cranes and birds of every 

 feather, save the owFs, all were in a skurry, and each 

 in a full- tilt-race to be the first to reach his roost. 

 The red squirrel heard the notice, stopped his chatter, 

 and was soon cuddled up with his head pillowed on 

 his bushy tail. 



To the hunter these red squirrels are something of 

 a nuisance. They abound in this section, as they do 

 in every northern forest, and keep up a constant chat- 

 tering, mingled at times with a sort of vent riloquis tic 

 laughter which is very amusing to the hunter — if he 

 is not on the lookout for big game. But when he is 

 stealthily creeping along, picking out a soft spot to 

 place his foot where it will make the least noise, and 

 halting and listening at every step for some sound 

 which may tell him that the animal he is looking for 

 is not far away, then the laughter of the bushy-tailed 

 rascal is not so amusing. It is just then, however, 

 that the little fellow delights to get in his mischievous 

 work and he does it most effectively. He will make 



