68 THE FALL OF THE YEAR 



j ^'-?adee, dear thing has done nothing at all. Not so-;' 

 S much as a bug or a single beetle's egg has he stored I J 



nip for the winter. But he knows where there is a 

 * : c big piece of suet 

 for him on a 



certain 

 ' lilac 

 ) bush. 

 ' f And he 

 knows 



where there is a 

 > \ v ' ' snug little hole in 



*&t/-^a certain elm tree limb. The north wind may blow, 

 jblow, blow! It cannot get through Chickadee's 

 feathers, nor daunt for one moment his brave little sjti 

 heart. 



"^;' The north wind sweeping the bare stubble fields . 



and winding its shivering horn through the leafless \ ; ^ 

 .j trees does sometimes pierce my warm coat and strike ? 

 a chill into my heart. Then how empty and cold seems . 

 ; the outdoor world ! How deadly the touch of the win- 

 ^ ter ! How fearful the prospect of the coming cold ! 



Does Muskrat think so ? Does Whitefoot ? Does 

 Chickadee ? Not at all, for they are ready. 

 \-' ,S The preparations for hard weather may be seen 

 Agoing on all through the autumn, beginning as far T 

 / back as the flocking of the swallows late in July. Up }.( , 

 to that time no one had thought of a coming winter, , 

 <, v^.it would seemj but, one day, there upon the tele- 



253^ -L<if.-$C 



