The Record of the Snow 



its linear exactness. Every footprint is di- 

 rectly in front of the preceding, as if Rey- 

 nard walked simply on two legs, set in the 

 middle of his body, behind and before. 

 How he manages to keep four feet so per- 

 petually in line is a mystery. It must be 

 with the same cunning, conscious intent as 

 the Indian, who also makes as narrow and 

 linear and inconspicuous trail as possible 

 through the winter woods, and if he has oc- 

 casion to come back that way, returns in his 

 own footsteps, and so simply reverses the 

 record. 



In strong contrast with the cramped and 

 timorous track of the quail is the bold, free, 

 snow-scattering stride of a solitary old 

 ruffed grouse cock, who, confident in his 

 years of survival, has been abroad this very 

 morning, and has lout recently crossed the 

 clearing, at right angles to the quail, as the 

 freshness of his track shows. He does not 

 proceed long in a straight line, but zigzags 

 from bush to bush, and tuft to tuft, either 

 for variety and amusement, or in search of 

 food. He moves with freedom and bold- 

 ness, but travels slowly and with many lei- 

 surely pauses. If we should follow his devi- 

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