ANTOINE GARDAPEE. 237 



stood the case, the deer were in "yards/ 5 where they had 

 trampled the snow so that the crust did not cut their legs, 

 and as they could not forage far they were getting poor. 

 And these yards were some distance off, so that a special 

 trip of twenty miles or more would have to be made to 

 get venison. Bears had gone into winter quarters, and 

 would not stir out for a couple of months. Partridges 

 found food scarce, were poor, and were eating bitter 

 buds, which made them unpalatable. 'Coons were laid 

 up, like the bears, and there was a prospect of scant ra- 

 tions. Antoine said that some trappers ate the flesh of 

 the pine marten, or sable, and the related species called 

 pekan, fisher, black cat, etc.; but Antoine wouldn't eat 

 them, and very naturally I refused them. I should think 

 that a man would have to be very hungry to eat any of 

 the tribe to which the mink and weasel belong. We do 

 not care to eat the animals whose diet is exclusively flesh 

 such as the cats and dogs whether we call them tigers 

 or wolves, but the deer and the sheep are vegetarians, 

 while the bear and the hog eat similar food, and we eat 

 them. It looked as though we must live on rabbit and 

 our present store of venison and bear the rest of the win- 

 ter, and rabbits were not plenty. 



While engaged in such thoughts a gray squirrel came 

 in sight, and I watched it run up a tree and jump into 

 another, and then it stopped at a hole in a tall tree and 

 seemed to want to enter it, and then appeared afraid and 

 would draw back and then peer in again. The tree was 

 an oak, and the hole was small, like a woodpecker's. I 

 noted that the bark on it was torn, and as the sun was 

 high I went back home. 



"Hello!" said Antoine, "I'll t'ink you go got los', an' 

 I mus' heat a C'ris'mas din' all 'lone. Jess in tarn, an* 

 glad for see you! Bon jour!" 



