HUNTING THE SNOW 



,HE hunt began at the hen-yard gate, 

 where we saw tracks in the thin, 

 new snow that led us up the ridge, 

 and along its narrow back, to a hol- 

 low stump. Here the hunt began in 

 earnest, for not until that trail of close, double, 

 nail-pointed prints went under the stump were 

 the three small boys convinced that we were 

 tracking a skunk and not a cat. 



This creature had moved leisurely. That you 

 could tell by the closeness of the prints. Wide- 

 apart tracks in the snow mean hurry. Now a cat, 

 going as slowly as this creature went, would have 

 put down her dainty feet almost in single line, 

 and would have left round, cushion-marked holes 

 in the snow, not triangular, nail-pointed prints 

 like these. Cats do not venture into holes under 

 stumps, either. 



We had bagged our first quarry ! No, no ! 

 We had not pulled that wood pussy out of his 

 hole and put him into our game-bag. We did 



