168 WOODLAND IDYLS. 



have I now in my vest pocket and many more 

 I hope to have before the season closes. Not to 

 keep on display are they, but in time to count 

 as trophies of the hunt. For these marmots or 

 ground-hogs are a nuisance in old pastures and 

 neighboring cultivated fields, burrowing here 

 and there and throwing out great heaps of dirt 

 over the surrounding grass; eating low many 

 square rods of clover; destroying corn, both 

 young stalks and in the roasting ear ; in fact, at 

 the farmer's expense, waxing fat at all seasons 

 except the winter when they sleep away in hi- 

 bernation much of that with which they enter 

 the burrow in late autumn. At the old farm the 

 dog and I swore vengeance on them years ago, 

 but, nevertheless, there have they grown in num- 

 bers, for they can see and smell farther and 

 have ears more acute than either of us, so that 

 only by strategy or chance did we get one of 

 them. Only a shot gun had I, good for close 

 distances, to which they became accustomed and 

 stayed in their burrows when I was within 

 range. Now a rifle is mine and perhaps a few 

 of them will once too often poke their heads 

 above the mouths of their dens and leer when 

 I approach. The one whose utmost caudal ver- 

 tebra I have was in the clover field south of my 

 tent and sixty yards away. At the first shot I 

 cut the dust beneath her and caused her to hump 



