Upweekis the Shadow. 115 



pretty spot whither they bring food from a distance, 

 evidently for the purpose of eating it where they feel 

 most at home. This one had gathered a half dozen 

 big fresh-water clams onto his dining table, and sat 

 down in the midst to enjoy the feast. He would take 

 a clam in his fore paws, whack it a few times on the 

 rock till the shell cracked, then open it with his teeth 

 and devour the morsel inside. He ate leisurely, tasting 

 each clam critically before swallowing, and sitting up 

 often to wash his whiskers or to look out over the 

 lake. A hermit thrush sang marvelously sweet above 

 him ; the twilight colors glowed deep and deeper in the 

 water below, where his shadow was clearly eating clams 

 also, in the midst of heaven's splendor. Altogether a 

 pretty scene, and a moment of peace that I still love 

 to remember. I quite forgot that Musquash is a 

 villain. But the tragedy was near, as it always is in 

 the wilderness. Suddenly a movement caught my eye 

 on the bank above. Something was waving nervously 

 under the bushes. Before I could make out what it 

 was, there was a fearful rush, a gleam of wild yellow 

 eyes, a squeak from the muskrat. Then Upweekis, 

 looking gaunt and dark and strange in his summer 

 coat, was crouched on the rock with Musquash 

 between his great paws, growling fiercely as he 

 cracked the bones. He bit his game all over, to make 



