

CHAPTER III. 



THE NATURALIST DEVELOPING. 



WHEN the crust had melted, then came tracking hares on 

 the snow, and here Pompey and I were better than Milo's 

 nose for we could see the beautiful little triangles Molly left 

 behind with her feet at each bound, laid as plain along the 

 snow as three ink-marks on white paper. 



Out from the cabbage-patch or the nursery we would follow 

 it, winding round and round, through the fences and by the 

 briar-patch across the fields and away towards the wood we 

 would trail, bending down to look as we went, and keeping 

 Milo back behind us. Now the edge of the wood is reached, 

 and here the track gets all mixed up with others, and twisted 



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