52 EVERYDAY ADVENTURES 



and propounded several ingenious theories to account 

 for the presence of this strange species. This dis- 

 course continued until we reached the historic white 

 oak near the end of the valley, where the Botanist 

 once found a flock of bay-breasted warblers in the 

 middle of a rainstorm; and again I heard the story 

 of that day. 



Through the valley flowed a little stream, and the 

 snow along its banks told of the goings and comings 

 of the wild-folk. Gray squirrels, red squirrels, musk- 

 rats, rabbits, mice, foxes, weasels, all had passed 

 and repassed along these banks. 



To me the most interesting trail was that of a 

 blarina shrew. His track in the snow is a strange 

 one. It is a round, tunnel-like trail, like that of 

 some large caterpillar, with the trough made by the 

 wallowing little body filled with tiny alternate tracks 

 — one of the strangest of all the winter trails. 



I could obtain very little enthusiasm from the Bot- 

 anist over blarinas. He still babbled of laurel-leafed 

 oaks and similar frivolities. Even the crowning event 

 of the walk left him cold. It came on the home- 

 stretch. We were passing through the last pasture 

 before reaching the humdrum turnpike which led 

 to the tame-folk. Suddenly in the snow I saw a 

 strange trail. It was evidently made by a jumper, 

 but not one whose track I knew. I followed it, until 

 among the leaves in a bank something moved. 

 Before my astonished eyes hopped falteringly, but 

 bravely, a speckled toad. 



The winter sun shone palely on his brown back 



