TRACKS IN THE SAND 61 



On one occasion, I am inclined to think, I saved 

 a pheasant from death by a fox. I was walking on 

 snowshoes just below the brow of Castle Hill 

 when I heard a sharp croak — it was almost a 

 shriek and expressive of great fear — and a hen 

 pheasant flew out of a low, bushy thicket di- 

 rectly towards me. Immediately afterwards a fox 

 ran out of the other side and disappeared over 

 the hill. My explanation of the episode is this : 

 the pheasant was feeding or dozing in the thicket, 

 unmindful of a fox who was creeping to spring at 

 her. The noise of my snowshoes aroused her and, 

 looking up, she caught sight of the fox almost 

 upon her. With a shriek she made off away 

 from the fox, disregarding any other danger. 

 Thus it happened that the pheasant flew towards 

 me, and the fox, debarred of his prize, departed 

 in the other direction. I imagined he looked 

 very disgruntled and that he had the air of one 

 swearing inwardly. 



Muskrat tracks, easily distinguished by the 

 central groove made by the tail and by the webbed 

 footprints, may occasionally be seen in the dry 

 sand, when the wanderlust seizes these amphibi- 



