220 A WINTER TRAMP WITHOUT RACKETS. 



it was probably a cross or patch fox — and soon, making for a huge 

 rock in the centre of an ahiiost level plain, I had a chance, long 

 shot. The ball sped swiftly along and missed ; but it struck so 

 near as to bewilder the animal, who, for a moment, seemed unde- 

 cided which way to turn, but quickly disappeared over the ridge. 

 I followed him until too tired to run farther, and was obliged finally 

 to give up the chase and returned to my companions quite crest- 

 fallen, yet ready for another trial. 



Sunday, the 2 7th. We are alone, the family having gone to visit a 

 neighbor about eight miles away, and it does seem a rehef to be 

 quiet — to hear no noisy children, and no rough, coarse scoldings 

 or threats of violence to them in case of disobedience. The day 

 was pleasant, and we all enjoyed it ; it seemed more like Sunday 

 than any similar days we had passed, to me at least, while on this 

 part of the coast. The evening came before we really knew it. 



Monday the 28th was a damp, snowy, dismal day ; we all remained 

 in the house and amused ourselves as best we could in reading, 

 and writing, or netting nets and winding twine. Towards evening 

 several of the neighbors, whom we knew well, came in to chat with 

 us, and thus this day passed like many others. 



Wednesday the 30th. To-day I took a»tramp with two or three 

 others, inland over the ponds : but we carried no rackets and 

 found the walking terrible. In many places we sank to our arm- 

 pits, and we were obliged to progress Indian fashion, that is, crawl 

 on the hands and knees, using a long, round stick, with which to press 

 upon the snow while extricating ourselves from the drifts. It was a 

 most tedious and difficult worTc. We would walk on the treacher- 

 ous crust for a few steps, then sink in with one foot up to the knee, 

 recovering our position only to fall in with the other foot and again 

 to sink nearly to the armpits. The stick then kept us from sinking 

 farther — the snow often being fifteen feet deep beneath us, — and 

 we would slowly and with difficulty crawl out and onward. Thus 

 we soon were obliged to turn back, and though having gone scarcely 

 a mile we were completely tired out when we reached home. I 

 shot several species of birds, however, which paid well for all my 

 trouble. 



