CHAPTER X. 



WITH THE WINTER BIRDS. 



"QEE them there?" remarked Miles Overfield, as 



O he pointed eastward and skyward, while we 

 were standing by the sole remaining traces of the 

 original forest, three enormous beeches. 



" See what?" I asked. 



"Them dark streaks, lookin' as if somebody had 

 scratched the sky with a sharp stick." 



"Yes, I see them. What of it?" I asked. 



" You said you were goin' on a tramp to-morrow. 

 If you do, you'll wade through a snow-storm." 



And so it proved. Occasionally we do find a 

 man who is weather-wise. The night long, fine 

 feathery flakes fell silently about the house and filled 

 the garden-path. Over the fence the lesser land- 

 marks were blotted out, but the runways of the 

 meadow-mice were ridged and prominent, and an 

 old birds' -nest, now tenanted by the vesper mouse, 

 was as Arctic in appearance as an Eskimo's home. 

 Tufted grasses that had yielded but their greenness 

 to the frost were builded yet a little higher with 

 L q 21 241 



