he likes fish; but I have never known him to 



223 



catch one unaided save once ; and then he ^ 



leaped into a shallow pool among the rocks, •^Gy****"* 



where the receding waters had left a big ^ V/A7//I 



in/in* 



salmon half stranded, and darted about like 'i^^B 

 a fury in a blinding smother of water till 

 he gripped his slippery prize securely and 

 dragged him away into the shadows. 



Pequam has other names. Black Fox he 

 is called in places where he is but rarely 

 seen, though he bears no relation to the 

 black or silver fox, and Pennant's Marten by 

 the bookish people, and Black Cat by all the 

 Maine trappers, who follow him on the spring 

 snows when he is gorged with food, and 

 who catch him cunningly at last asleep in 

 a hollow log — and that is the only way I 

 have ever tried in which I have really caught 

 a weasel asleep. But whatever his name, 

 Pequam has the same nature wherever I 

 have found or heard of him ; whether on the 

 high mountain ranges, or the bleak Labra- 

 dor barrens, or the silent shadow-filled north- 

 ern woods, — a crafty, restless, bloodthirsty 

 haunter of every trail, even of your own; at 



