The Record of the Snow 



Some day, however, when he is dozing in 

 his form, under the genial warmth of the 

 midday sun, a prowling skunk, driven forth 

 in the daylight by hunger, will creep up and 

 get him by the tender throat. And then, 

 alas! there will no longer be a last hare in 

 the woods. 



203 



