and brighter than here. But home is where 

 mother is, — that, fortunately, is also true of 

 the little Wood Folk, who understand it in 

 their own savage way for a season, — and in 

 their wonder at their new surroundings the 

 memory of the old home gradually faded 

 away. They never knew with what endless 

 care the new den had been chosen ; how the 

 mother, in the days when she knew she was 

 watched, had searched it out and watched 

 over it and put her nose to every ridge and 

 ravine and brook-side, day after day, till she 

 was sure that no foot save that of the wild 

 things had touched the soil within miles of 

 the place. They felt only a greater wildness, a 

 deeper solitude ; and they never forgot, though 

 they were unmolested, the strange feeling that 

 was born in them on that first terrifying night 

 journey in their mothers jaws. 



Soon the food that was brought home at 

 dawn — the rabbit or grouse, or the bunch of 

 rats hanging by their tails, with which the 

 mother supplemented their midday drink of 

 milk — became altogether too scant to satisfy 



