Cofonp in 



of the forest, moveless as statues and each a 

 pointed cone of snow. Around the small snowy 

 plain of the pond, the drooping snow-entangled 

 willows held their heads together in contented 

 and thoughtful silence. Everything was serene. 



A clean fox track led from the woods in a 

 straight line across the snowy surface of the 

 pond to the house, which stood near the centre 

 of this smooth white opening. The tracks en- 

 circled the house and ascended to the top of it, 

 where the record imprinted in the snow told that 

 here he watchfully rested. Descending, he had 

 sniffed at the bushy tips of the winter food-pile 

 that thrust up through the ice, then crossed the 

 dam to plunge into the snowy tangle of willows. 



Water was still pouring and gurgling down a 

 steep beaver slide. This was ice-and-sno w-covered 

 except at two points where the swift splashing 

 water dashed intermittently from a deep icy vent. 

 While I was examining the beauty of the up- 

 building icy buttresses by one of the vents, a water- 

 ouzel came forth and alighted almost within reach. 

 I stood still. After giving a few of his nodding 

 bows, he reentered the vent. Presently he emerged 



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