ON THE 'POSSUM'S TRAIL 95 



Sure enough, the snow was brushed from the 

 post, there were signs of feet on the tree trunk, 

 and down between the twin boles was the hole, 

 smooth, clean, and 'possumy. The crafty old fel- 

 low had squeezed hard to get in and had left a 

 hair or two on the rim of his entrance. 



He was tremendously fat and tremendously 

 sound asleep when I pulled him out. But for all 

 his fat and sleepiness, he had been cunning 

 enough to fool us for many a night with his fence- 

 and tree-trunk trail. 



