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 



