Winter-green 83 



were silent. I had a vivid impression for 

 the moment that it was really winter and in- 

 tensely cold. If I had suffered it would 

 have been my own fault wholly, for he who 

 truly loves an outing can keep all ugliness in 

 the background. It requires no magician's 

 wand. I looked again for winter-green and 

 found it, and there, too, was the bush-nest 

 of white-footed mice. I startled them from 

 their snug retreat and gave chase, and, after 

 a brisk dash through the underbrush, came 

 off captor. Now, it is well at times to be as. 

 savage as ever was palaeolithic man, who lived 

 ages ago on this very spot, but stop this side 

 of murder. Follow the game as closely, as 

 persistently, as the hound follows the fox, 

 but, at the final moment, offer the hand of 

 fellowship rather than the fangs of destruc- 

 tion. The former merely ends the chapter, 

 with sweeter ones to follow ; the latter ends 

 a tragedy of but one aft, and leaves the sur- 

 vivor unworthy of himself. I carried the 

 captive mouse back to his home, but held 

 him awhile before setting him down at his 

 own door. What a gain it would have been 

 could I have translated the glitter of his 

 black eyes ! Was it fear or rage ? I judge 



