THE SEVEN SLEEPERS 193 



erring barrage, which however seemed to cause them 

 no especial inconvenience. Before long every hunter, 

 except myself, had one or more skunks tucked 

 away in his pockets. 



It was a long, strong night. Before it was over I 

 was in some doubt as to whether I had been attend- 

 ing a possum hunt or had taken part in a skunk 

 chase. My family had no doubt whatever on the sub- 

 ject when I reached home the next morning. I was 

 earnestly invited to tarry in the wilderness until 

 such time as I could obtain a complete change of 

 raiment. Thereafter I tried to give my hunting 

 clothes away to the worthy poor. Said poor, however, 

 would have none of them, and they repose in a lonely 

 grave in a Philadelphia back-yard even unto this 

 day. 



I saw him last fall sitting up like a little post in 

 the Half-Moon Lot where the blind blue gentian 

 grows. Every once in a while he would drop down 

 and begin to nibble again, only to stop and sit up 

 stiff and straight on sentry duty. For the gray, 

 grizzled woodchuck is as wary as he is fat. Watch- 

 fulness is the price of his life. 



Once I spied him far out in a clover-patch, nibbling 

 away at the pink sweet blossoms as I passed along 

 the road. At the bar- way a chipmunk leaped into the 

 wall with a sharp squeak. Without even stopping to 

 raise his head, Mr. Woodchuck scuttled through 

 the clover, and dived into his burrow. It was a bit 

 of animal team-work such as takes place when a 



