THE HAYMAKER OF THE HEIGHTS 29 



three stacks? They were separated by only a 

 few inches and had been cut from one near-by 

 square rod of meadow. But it is likely that 

 each cony worked independently. 



Far up the mountainside I found and saw 

 an account of a cony adventure written in the 

 snow. In crossing a barren snow-covered slide 

 I came upon cony tracks coming down. I 

 back-tracked to see where they came from. 



A quarter of a mile back and to one side a 

 snowslide mingled with gigantic rock fragments 

 had swept down and demolished a part of a 

 moraine and ruined a cony home. This must 

 have been a week or more before. The snow 

 along the edge of the disturbed area was tracked 

 and re-tracked a confusion of cony foot- 

 prints. 



But the cony making the tracks which I 

 followed had left the place and proceeded as 

 though he knew just where he was going. He 

 had not hesitated, stopped, nor turned to look 

 back. Where was he bound for? I left the 

 wreckage to follow his tracks. 



Up over a ridge the tracks led, then down a 

 slope to the place where I had discovered them, 

 then to the left along a terrace a quarter of a 

 mile farther. Here they disappeared beneath 

 huge rocks. 



In searching for the tracks beyond I came in 



